Cuba as it is

Havana

After 11 hours in the plane from Brussels, we landed in Varadero. It took another half hour in the queue to get stamps in the passport and find our backpacks. And here we were in Cuba. Looking around for toilet, we came in the view point of the police. Helen was in the loo, when a jovial customs officer came to me and ask me who I am, where I come from and if I wouldn't mind him checking my bag. Well, not sure how he would response if I would DO mind, but I didn't feel like taking the chance to play around with the customs. Helen came out of the toilet and we needed to follow him to little back room. Another lady around 40’s joined us. Helen has a Dutch passport, and that pulled them even harder towards drugs research. At least 22 times we were asked if we have weed with us, do we even smoke and when was the last time we actually did.

The room was with decorated white tiles, two aluminium tables and I could only think about surgeries room. The guy took my back pack on one of the tables, the woman was busy with Helen. Literally they took everything inside out. Helen had some vitamins with her, and for some reason were in plastic bag, instead in a jar. They were in my backpack, when they guy pull them out, keeping the plastic back in the upper corner. Needles and pins ran through my body. I wasn’t nervous about what it is. I freak out, that I may spent some time in the police station, until they figure out what it is exactly. It took them some time, before they believe that it is a vitamins pills. And better. My pockets were checked, I needed to pull off my shoes too...Luckily the customs didn’t want to check in the place where the sun has never shined. It took probably an hour, before the police was convinced, that we are not bringing any drugs with us. Well...the woman wasn’t. She probably still believes we have hidden somewhere weed or ecstasy pills.

The first impression after we walked out of the airport building were the cars. Old Russian cars, well known to the people who grew up on the east side of the iron curtain. And older american dodges, buicks, chryslers and etc made before the time of the “revolution” The american cars were looking better. Maybe because were new to me. All of them were tuned. Spoilers on old Volga looks kind of silly. But after senior Castro took the new cars away, he couldn’t take the neon lights. Tuning was the only think they could do to the cars. Besides repair. Every self respecting Lada or Moskvitch had alloy wheels, emblem on the front hood and pitch black foil on the windows. So dark, that the driver need to cut off a piece in the down front corner, so they can actually see in the mirrors. All the cut offs had the shape of apple...from the I products. Stickers, spoilers, flags...everywhere on the cars.

Few of the taxi drivers stuck to us immediately, offering us drive for 30 Peso Converibles (or 30 US dollars sharp). Which to me seemed a lot for less than 20 min drive. I offered one of them 25, but he didn’t want to bring us for this money. But I kept asking around and I found one, who agreed to drive us for 20 cuc to Boca de Camarioca, where we had reservation for 3 nights. Boca is small fisherman village, near to Varadero (which is big touristic resort on the north side of the island). We stayed in the house of engineer married to russian teacher. He went to study in Moscow, where he met his wife. Both of them were retired. Their daughter lives in Sankt Peterburg, together with her husband, but they were here as well. Two months runaway from freezing cold Lenningrad.

We were super tired, but the enthusiasm gave us extra energy. After a little chat with the hosts we went out to see the village. There were few stalls on the main square - guy selling ice cream out of huge yellow soda can and another hulled dirty booth, with windows, covered with dust and fat, half rusty half molted roof, which maybe was white many years back.Woman behind the window was selling donuts. Or something like donuts.

Behind her we could see pinkish building, with coat half felt off. The wooden door was rotten and molted, it was open and hanging on rusty hinges. Sort of veranda infront of the door, and above I could see a sign, saying something about the revolution, but can’t say what, because the time and the weather obliterated it. When we came closer, I could see inside. A bar, covered with white tiles, which were fallen off. Actually looked like a chess board. Few very aged bar chairs in front of the bar, and above it, on the wall I could see two bottles and two beer cans. It was darkish but I could see sign: “associacion de pescaderos”. Simply, it was the local pub. We kept walking. Many houses from wooden planks, fewer made out of bricks. Every third wall was looking like barricade from the WW2. Everywhere the paint and the rendering was falling off. The wooden houses had so big wholes, that pigeon could get in and out easily. No glass windows. A hole and wooden hood. The streets were broken as well. Like a moonscape. Some areas with asphalt, some with gravel or patches. Mostly just mud. The cars were old and not so many. Horse carriages, bicycles, dirty, half naked kids. Lovely!

In a bit we found two more stalls. We asked for fried potatoes and rice with veggies at the first. The beer we needed to order on the second hut.

On the next day, still enthusiastic from the fact that we are in Cuba we went to Varadero. This is huge resort, about 150 km east from Havana. It is located alongside sand bank long 15-20 km. It was 20 min with the local bus from Boca de Camarioca and the cost was 1 Peso Nacional per person.

In Cuba a tourist may encounter two valutas. CUC - peso convertible, which is 1 US dollar exactly and it is meant for tourists or more luxury goods. It replaced the US dollar back in the 90s' It equals 24 CUP - peso nacional - with this, you can pay small amounts, buses, post stamps, coffee and etc. In the bank you can't get the CUP, you need to search for CADECA (casa de cambio) where you can exchange money for peso nacional. Normaly long queues on the CADECAs. It is handy to have some CUP, otherwise you may be overcharged.

The beaches in Varadero are from white, fine sand and palm trees along the coast. Many guest houses around the main street. Also many hotels, leftovers with urge need of new paint on the outside. Stalls were selling souvenirs, t-shirts, hats and everything that you can put the image of Che on it.

We walked in a shop to buy water. It turned out, that there is more rum in the shop, than drinking water. The cubans love it. It turned out, that there is not much choice for other goodies. No chocolate bars, no cheese….it is easier to mention what you can buy. Cans with champignons (imported), olives (imported), waffles (from Dominican republic), sort of corn chips with garlic (cuban), 2 types of cuban beer, Heineken and Bavaria beer, I saw somewhere also Dominican beer. Natural juices (imported) cuban cola, cuban orange soda. Probably I miss couple of things, but in general that was all.

From one end of the main street, to the other end were rolling cars from my grandpas age and every time when they pass by pedestrian they were horning. Like invitation to get in. This may drive someone crazy. There is horning every 7 seconds. But nevertheless, the streets here were clean and organized.

taxi in Varadero

Matanzas is another village, close to Boca, where we went on the third day. Another place, where is not much to do or to see. We went with the local bus again. I have to mention, that most of the tourists here, are using taxi or some other special transport service. The bus was overcrowded, people were hanging on the bars like monkeys and patiently waiting for their bus stop. We arrived around 10 am. The streets were dirty, covered with well used pavement. The poorness was screaming into our eyes. The overaged buses were spewing suffocated gases, leaving at least 20 meters CO2 clouds behind. If it happened that some bigger diesel monster passes by us (like big bus or old russian ZIL) I felt like throwing up. The parrots in the cages on the windows above the street must be passing out few times a day.

We entered small cafe. Helen doesn’t drink coffee, just tee. But there is not tee in Cuba. I asked for coffee with milk.

-There is no milk - said the lady behind the counter. She was wearing white shirt, jacket and indigo colored skirt - all the ho-re-ca workers in Cuba wear similar clothes. I can’t be sure if we made her angry for making her day difficult, asking tee and milk in the coffee, or she was just angry by nature. Maybe was the little mustache under her nose was annoying her...She offered me just coffee and finally I agreed on espresso.

I got my espresso, we sit on one of the tables and we had a look around. Then I figured out why she got angry. It wasn’t the order. Because of us she missed few minutes from the movie which was on the TV screen in one of the corners. What she was looking exactly, I don’t know. It was hard to see anything with all the screen noise.

There were two more clients, sitting in front of empty tables. I guess they were just hiding from the rising heat outside and watching TV too.

In the opposite corner of us was the air conditioner, from which the water wasn’t just dripping. Water was running onto the table underneath, from there was going over one of the chairs, sprinkling to the other two chairs and like a little waterfall was leaking down to the floor creating puddle with the size of Caribbean sea. The water was disappearing in underground cave, somewhere between the wall from rotten plasterboard and the floor. The name of the cafe is Atenas and later I noticed it in the tourist guide from lonely planet. Backpackers guide to the Galaxy!

the railway in Matanzas

house doors in Matanzas

I drank my coffee without milk and we shoot off towards the San Severino castle. Place where till few hundreds years ago, slaves were collected and stored, before sending them to the sugar cane fields. On the way we saw one and the only sign with directions. After one hour wandering under the hot sun and asking around, we heard answers like: just there, over there, straight forward, down there. A guy who was sitting in a chair, on the door of some kind of warehouse, told us that he doesn’t know. We found the castle on the next street of the warehouse...Well, we were not impressed at all. We had a quick look and we started to walk back towards the center of Matanzas. The main street was more vivid in the afternoon. It was Sunday, small stalls were selling lollipops, hamburgers and popcorn on each corner. People were walking everywhere. We were super tired, we treated ourselves with beer in one of the bars and we took off towards Boca de Camarioca. This time we took a truck, which had seats installed in the back. Compared to other transports on the island, that was luxury truck. But for this later.

After 3 nights in Boca we decided to head to Santiago de Cuba. It is located in the southeast part of the island and it is 750 km (or 16 hours) by bus. We spend those 16 hours in rattletrap chinese bus, driving over 750 km rattle trapped roads. It is a miracle that I didn’t lose a kidney on this road. But there was nice part too...There was an air conditioner. I can’t and I don’t want to imagine what would be 16 hours without ice cold wind blowing in my neck. But don’t panic.I am well trained and ready for natural disasters. I had my jumper and jacket to put on. While 30 degrees outside. Helen had small blanket. Don’t ask me why person would bring blanket in the Caribbeans. But was used well.

The bus stopped in the bigger cities to drop off or pick up passengers, for petrol, to use toilet. The one in the bus didn’t work of course. Every time we were asked 1 peso - cup to use the toilets.That might be confusng. Lots of people were paying one CUC. But the price was in CUP...of course, the collector would just take and say nothing. In Varadero, wile we were waiting for the bus too Santiago I needed to pee. They asked me 1 peso, but I ran out of the CUP.

- I have no more CUP - i told the lady.

- Then 1 peso convertible - she said (1 cuc is 25 cup)

- But you gonna return me change, at least 20 peso nacional - I said. She looked at me very angry and said - 50 centavos entonces…

I couldn’t get them, they couldn’t get me. Somehow those cuban people believe, that if one lands in Cuba, he has collected money from the trees, before he arrives. I didn’t pay a penny to that bitch. I walked away, found a bush outside and fertilized the grass.

And the toilets on the bus stations, in general public toilets are coming from fairy tale. But fairy tail written by Stephen King. I am thinking of the “worst toilet in Scotland” - if you have seen the movie Trainspotting, you must remember it...well that kind of toilets they have in Cuba.

Santiago de Cuba...this is horror, this is hell...hahaha. From the moment we went off the bus we were attacked with hustlers - hey amigo, do you want taxi, do you want a room? And they would ask you 10 times, eventually you may fed up and buy it. NO, YOU BLOODY WANKER!!! How can a normal person rent a room from a guy, who pssssssst me as we psssssssst to a cat (by the way, that’s how you call a waiter in Cuba, apparently). He didn’t shave for 2 weeks or more, didn’t shower for a lot longer, didn’t wash his trousers for half year, ripped off t-shirt and black nails - under them are the left overs from everything he touched from Eastern till today...would you rent accommodation with such a person? Or take a taxi ride? Well, they were a lot!

We didn’t have reservation or anything like that, but we had few addresses, not far from the central station. Luckily we found free room in the first place we asked for. The street was dirty and ugly, but the room was looking not bad. After 16 hours in this bus, everything would look great. And it was very close to the center of the city.

In the city of the horror and darkness, you will be offered on every corner to have taxi and to visit the grave of Fidel Castro (it happened we arrived shortly after his decease) or trip to the castle El Morro, located on the entrance of the bay. The idea, to be between another 520 tourists, pointing cameras towards the tomb of the legend wasn’t very attractive to us. We skipped Eugenia cemetery, as well the castle.

The streets in the center of Santiago didn’t look bad. But all the rest we walked were dirty, and the houses were just about to collapse. Maybe does’n look bad if you would be coming from Cambodia. Or Haiti.

backstreets church in Santiago

We sat on a terrace and we ordered two beers. Black guy, looking in his 70s approached to us. Maybe was younger, but the lifestyle didn’t forgive him and made him look older. He asked for a cigarette. I didn’t want him to touch my tobacco as I was unsure with the diseases he may have. I rolled one for him and passed it to him, so he can lick it himself. He grabbed it and started to spit, to lick and slobber on it. The filter felt off…

- No pega (it doesn’t glue) - he said.

I made complete cigarette and I gave it to him, as well I passed him light. He asked me if I have another lighter for him. I had this one only and I sent him away. And I didn’t want to deal with at least 6 more hobos, which were following with envy eyes, every step of this little intervention. I believe he had some more to say, but in the name of the happiness of everybody it was best if he leave now. I explained that nicely to the old bum. Heavy thoughts deluged my mind. Simple lighter was in importance for this guy. Even now, putting all this in paper makes me think. How spoiled we must be, in the “western” world.

the post office in Santiago under the church in park de Cesped

The culture shock was just starting. Internet in Cuba is like water in Africa. The story with the internet is just introduction to another story. Every city has 1-2 wifi spots (usually the post office) and it is very easy to find. You will notice the people hanging around with phone under their noses. The only way to go out of Cuba. Just for a moment. Even virtually. But the wifi is not for free. You need code for access. You can buy it in the post office, but it is a looooooooooong queue. So we needed internet and we lined up. It wasn’t going fast. We saw a blond girl with white skin looking at her phone - obviously another tourist, who already had the code. Helen went to ask her how long she waited for. She told her, that in the hotel on the corner are selling those cards with access code, but only for their own clients. If we pretend that we are from the hotel, they will sell it to us, and we don’t have to wait that long. 1 hour access was 2 CUC. We decided to give a try. Helen entered the hotel, I was waiting outside. An ancient came to me and started to talk from a distance. I didn’t get him in the beginning as he was talking soft. I looked at him, and he came closer, still talking and gesturing.

- Do you have a pen? Pen. Tienes un boligrafo? - he was writing with gesture to his wrist t show what he need.

I opened my back pack and pull out one of those automatic pencils, with eraser on the top. We were carrying bunch of them, with the name of Helen’s mother yoga studio. I gave it to the guy and he tried to write to his hand immediately.

- This is not a pen, it is a pencil. You can write only on paper - I told him. The guy thanked me and he dropped the pencil in his bag. By bag I mean one of those sacks to collect rice, corn and etc..Woman, which apparently was looking what is going on, came to me and also asked me for a pen. She didn’t look so much in need as the elder man. I had one only on me, and even if I had more, I wouldn’t give her...didn’t like the way she took the chance. She left disappointed. A pen is something granted to us. Isn’t it? And most of the people. But not in Cuba...what a revolution brought senior Fidel Castro to those people. They must be the only people who know that.

Helen came out of the hotel very disappointed, because they didn’t want to sell her card for internet.

We decided not to think too much about that and to go on. Some other place we will get the card.

We agreed to skip Guantanamo, also Baracoa (where Colombo landed, thinking that he arrived in India)

The next day we took off to Siboney, half hour south of Santiago. We made research in https://www.lonelyplanet.com/ where and how to. We found the bus station, but it turned out, that the bus to Siboney doesn’t stop here. We had rough idea, that we can catch another bus from Feroy square, or maybe Ferril square...we mixed the name. We didn’t know where is this place, we already had leg pain from walking to this bus station. We decided to go with bici taxi. This is kind of riksha, bicycle with 3 wheels. One is riding it and two persons sit behind him. Dirty cuban with dirty shirt, baseball hat, faded from the sun and boots, which were with open soles took us. We agreed price of 4 peso. The bike had 3 gears, which he was changing with metal stick, behind his seat, ending with empty tube from shampoo. According the steepness of the road, he was approaching his hand to change gears. It took about 15 minutes to arrive to huge roundabout. That was Ferril square. I gave him bill of 20 peso with the expectation to have some change. It turned out he want 4 cuc...i truly believe that was a scam. Peso is Peso nacional, the Cuc is called cuc or libra or divisia or convertible...whatever. I gave him 3 cuc, cursed at him and left him behind. He didn’t complain of the 3 cuc...Karma will chase him, sure. Helen was buzzing, and I was trying to forget the story. Since this moment on, i started to double check what for money we are talking about, when was about to pay.

the transportation in Cuba

Not too late after that we were in another overcrowded back of american Ford truck, same age as my father. Or older. The back was covered with 1cm thick metal sheet and it was about 1.80 m high. If you are taller, you need to bend your neck or back. On the right side somebody made a door. As well on the back, but passengers were using the side one. Inside, on both sides was welded long iron plate, wide around 20 cm. That was the seat. Between the ceiling and the “cabin” itself was room, open space high around 30 cm - windows. The first thing you would think of is that this car is for slaves or prisoners. It was full with people. Literally ass touching ass, you barely can turn around. In Siboney we were tipped out on dusty street, with chickens running through it. The beach was just 150 meters away i was made of sand, and some rocks. The beach chairs and umbrellas were meant for tourists. Locals couldn’t pay for it. Black guy was selling coconuts out of cooling box.

Behind the sand was little meadow, with couple of coco palm trees. We set here, under the shade of the palm trees. I jumped in the water immediately. It was warm as soup. At least 25 degrees. The bottom was just rocks and shallow. Lots of sea urchins and colorful fishes. Empty bottles and car tires as well…

the beach in Siboney

When I came back to the beach I looked around to see what is happening. Under the shade of some kind of bushy tree was a group of dozen youngsters, drinking beer and shouting to each other. Guitar was laying around. Another group of youngsters came too. They didn’t have guitar, but were carrying wireless speaker on batteries. Reggea ton was coming louder of the speaker. They settled on the sand, one of the girls started to dance, shaking her ass. All of them were drinking beer. Another group showed up. 3 guys and bottle of rum. They came closer to us and started to shout to each other. Initially I thought that they will start a fight. It was just the way they talk.

We spent couple of hours on the beach and we left. On the bus station we encountered group of 13-14 years old students, all in uniforms. Khaki trousers for boys khaki skirt for girls. All in white shirts. A car came and guy shouted to us - if we like to take a ride to Santiago for 1 cuc each.

- Take it! - shouted out one of the boys next to us.

We have decided to wait for the bus and we didn’t take the car. In some time arrive 15 meters long smoking monster, all covered with rust, holes in the chassisс and dirty windows. Huge clouds of black smoke were coming out of his nostrils. The people inside were already enough to fill up a small stadium. In front of the door was already half of another stadium, trying to get in. Now I realized why the boy shouted to us to take the car. More space for them. It was looking physically impossible all those people to get in the bus. I remember, when I was 7-8 years old. When I go with my granny and my grandpa to their summer house in the weekends. We gonna wait for the bus half hour (at least) and when the bus arrives, they would send me to go between the people and get a chair. As smaller was easier for me to sneak in first. Those Ikaruses...there was not impossible amount of people to get in.

Helen was pushing herself in between and I was a behind her, when I saw the truck which brought is here. I waved at him to stop and I pulled back Helen. On the floor in the truck was laying bunch of metal for constructions. Sticks 6 meters long, folded in two - to fit them inside. To move to the front, person need to balance on the metal sticks. We were just us and one more passenger. Till Santiago we were not more than 10-15 people. People were waiting for the bus, which probably was cheaper. The truck was 5 peso nacional per person.
On the next bus stop jumped in the 3 guys from the beach, with their bottle of rum. It was still half full.

the back of the truck

On the next cross-point our truck started to horn as hell. Another transport truck started to horn too. I didn’t understand what was going on, but both of the trucks stopped, one of the guys with the rum jumped down and started to shout to the driver of the other truck. After they made agreement who is cabron and who is hijo de puta and who is maricon, we continued, to arrive in one piece to square Ferril in Santiago. We were crossing the roundabout when two guys started up a fight on the street. Tall, black guy, with white hair and old backpack flew running next to us, when another guy caught him up right in front of us. The second one started to pet him gently with fists in the head. The pedestrians stopped so they can watch. The cars stopped to have a look, the Earth stopped spinning, even the time stopped so it can see the spectacle. The tall one fell on the ground, the other changed the fists with kicks. I just pushed Helen away from this beautiful madness.

Santiago is the second largest city after Havana. It is just 200 km away from Haiti and 200 km from Jamaica. You can notice the domination of black people, coming from those islands around. I can’t imagine what life those people would have back in Jamaica to move to Cuba.

One late afternoon we were sitting in the park Cesped. At least 10 guys were trying to sell us something. Taxi, cigars, restaurant and don’t know what more. A guy was coming to us, when I directly send him away:

- no necesitamos nada, tenemos todo, que tenga un buen dia.. - I said but I insulted him apparently. He started to moo and bellow... Mucaya, mucaya...Helen got nervous, that the guy can doom us with some black voodoo or santeria. I am more skeptic for this kind of science.

Then came a marriachi with big mustache, cowboy hat and guitar. I was already desperate. This park was not to relax. The marriachi asked us where we are coming from. They all start with this - where you come from. I said Bulgaria. He gave me the story, that he toured in Europe, Russia and Bulgaria as well. 33 years ago. But he wasn’t so lucky and nowadays he was walking with his guitar, giving serenades to tourists, trying to make few pesos.

Two nights in this devil place was enough. Next bus to Sancti Spiritus. That was little relaxed town, little river was going through it. Everybody here was busy with his own life, no one bothered us. There was not so much to do. We arrived early in the morning, we saw the center, the river, the main square and we decided that we can spend some time here on the internet card queue. 15 people were waiting already. We asked who is last - there is not actual queue. Everybody waits in half circle next to the door. Everybody tries to take over everybody. Security guy was letting two people in a time to get in. I took us exactly one hour and 15 minutes to get to the kiosk. Passport was required in order to buy access code. We bought 3 cards for 1 hour each, so we don’t have to wait 3 times. Walked out and we tried to check the mailbox of www.windsurfyoga.eu. Of course, the connection was as fast as the queue in front of the post office.

For cubans is still forbidden to have internet at home. Foreigners, who live in Cuba have the right to get broadband. I will leave that without comment.

Sancti Spiritus, bridge over the river

Next day was early morning. The alarm went off at 4 am to catch the only bus to Cienfuegos. The intercity line is called Viazul - used mostly from tourists and I have to say it is relatively expensive for the service they provide. But there is no other option. Well, taxi. Or rent a car. Which we checked out too...90 us dollars a day. For car...WTF!!!! In Cuba…

We had connection in Trinidad. The bus entered in the center in Trinidad via small paved street, where two cars barely can pass in a time. The driver turned somewhere in left and here he needed 15 minutes to maneuver the bus in the terminal. It took that long, because somebody needed to find the owner of the horse car parked on the way. In 30 meters we had the same procedure to enter the bus terminal. Bus drivers coming to Trinidad must have special training to drive here.

the bus terminal in Trinidad

The bus station here was organised chaos. We spent one hour here, till the next bus. Homeless dog was hanging in the waiting room. It was checking the tourists with food in their hands - maybe some mercy will brighten up his day. Two more dogs came from somewhere. One of those was missing half of his upper lip, the teeth were outside permanently. All three of them started to sniff each other asses. Somewhere there, between the idyllic moments of happiness and calmness, the two bigger dogs broke up the peace contract. They started to roll on the ground, to bite and scrub on the parking area. The people ran away, women started to scream, kids begin to cry, mothers grabbed them and ran away, few young maidens passed out unconsciousness.Hard times came on. One of the curators came and send the smaller dog in the air with well measured kick. The dog was the size of cocker spainol and landed on top of some back pack, which was laying on the side walk.

- Two male and one female! - screamed proudly the curator.

In few minutes I saw a girl spraying against parasites the backpack.

We arrived in Cienfuegos around 10am and almost immediately we found accommodation near to the center. Clean and tightly colonial house with very welcoming hosts. The ceiling was at least 4 meters high and the windows were overlooking to internal backyard, covered with tiles, table and rock chairs.Clara ad Pastor - the german shepherds of the owner loved to hang over here.

the Malecon in Cienfuego. On the back is Punta Gorda

We throw the bags and rushed into the town. We walked down the center, then the malecon and we saw in the sky the lights of baseball stadium. This is the national sport in Cuba, Helen loves it. She wanted to see a first league game, but unfortunately we were here out of the season. Noise was coming from inside the stadium, so we wanted to check it out. Polite guy with long oily hair, huge belly and orange t-shirt told us that some teams of the youngsters are playing. The Elephants (the team from Cienfuego) wont play before new year. He saw me with the camera and invite us to go watch for 1 peso national each. If we don’t have money, or we don’t want to pay for some reason, we still can go in. I still can take photos. Helen was not fancy on youngsters game, but I figure out, that probably that would be the only chance to get close to cuban baseball, I paid the guy and pushed her inside.

On the benches near the entrance were sitting two dozens of people. One teenager, dressed in green (the colour of the Elephants) saw us coming in and started to pssssst and whoop to us. We looked at him after we sat and he started:

- Gorro, gorro, quieres gorro. O camiseta? - trying to sell us his shit. We ignored him

In a bit he arrived on the chairs behind us, pulled the attention againn and showed us his baseball cap - green, with blue C in front. Then he offered us baseball bat, t-shirt, glove…

- I don’t need anything man!

- But what do you want?

- That’s what I am telling you - nothing. I just want to watch the game.

He was selling us his own clothes. We ignored him and finally he left us alone.

Between the innings, somebody from the field throw bottle with some light brown liquid to the first row of the public. A creolean guy grabbed it. A friend from the field gave it to him. I guess. He saw that I am looking at him and with gesture he offered me from the drink. I refused and smiled.

- Poisonous, poisonous - started to scream and laugh...I showed him my water bottle, trying to say that I have my own drink…

The game was 22 - 5 in the 7th inning and I started to understand what is happening down on the field (First time watching baseball for me) We decided that this is enough and left. They send us away with comments. One of the coaches down the field raised his hand to send us away. I couldn’t hear his word, but I will keep it positive. Apparently not many white people are coming to watch baseball in Cienfuego.

youngsters playing baseball in Cienfuegos

This town is not very big, it is cute and shiny, located in the bay of Cienfuego - huge lagoon with entrance to the Caribbean sea, on the south side of Cuba.

The malecon finishes with Punta Gorda - little park, where locals are coming to drink beer, chill swim, or just hang around in Sundays. There is no beach here, but few little platforms to get to the water. Punta Gorda is also the nicest neighborhood, with beautiful houses and big gardens. Little marina was located also here. Few hobie cats and canoes, also windsurf. But judging from the state they were, I doubt they have seen salty water last 5 years.

It wasn’t very easy to eat, not only in Cienfuego, but whole Cuba. Cubans eat pizza, spaghetti,

tortilla, rice. Everything with meat. But Helen doesn’t eat meat. For cubans the vegetarian is something only handful have been heard about it. If you are vegetarian you may die from hunger, and if you are vegan, you may be burned on the stake. I can’t remember all the places we asked for food without meat, but the people were very surprised from the question. Mostly answer was no, lo siento. Only few of the places came with solution

- no seniora, we don’t have that, but we can make you something… mostly they were too lazy or stupid to go out of the box and make a fast dish without meat.

In Cuba in the government restaurants, often the menu is not longer than one page. And they have ingredients to prepare just half of it. The prices are affordable. In the private restaurants (since senior Raul Castro has the power, he is letting people to start small businesses) you can find a bit more to choose. But still often we had answers - sorry but we don't’ have paprika today. Or we ran out of champignons..

The hygiene in both was doubtful. Black ceilings and walls covered with mold. The tables are cleaned for Christmas and Easter.

We were also eating outside - on the streets. Sort of fast food, very cheap - in Cienfuego i ate breath with sausage for 3 pesos nacional. That’s 15 euro cents...The hygiene here wasn’t doubtful. It didn’t exist. Not recommended for people with sensitive bowels.

Food often was too salty for our tastes.

Cuban men above 25 years already look pregnant. How else they can look after diet of pizza, burgers and fries.. In very rare occasions they would add veggies to their meal. If it happen to be added fresh salad to the dish, the amount was very limited. It is sad, because they have the best conditions to grow those things on their island. Well they did, but nobody byes the tomato on the market.

We went in a bakery for breakfast. At 10 in the morning they offered hamburgers. And cakes...The food everywhere was the same, it doesn’t matter if you pay 15 cuc in the restaurant or 5 cup on the street. Same ingredients, same taste, same rubbish.

street of Cienfuego

To get out of Cienfuego were two options. Morning bus or afternoon bus - both with Viazul, of course. We went to the terminal to reserve tickets for the afternoon. Yes, you can’t just go and buy a tickets. You need to go day ahead to reserve the seats. We stood few meters from the door of the office, where another tourist was already waiting. Inside the office guy with dirty look in his 50s, bald, glasses and thin lips. On old wooden desk was laying old laptop and matrix printer. The guy was blowing his belly seating behind the desk. The door of the “office” did not have handle, no key-lock, just a hole, through which was stuck a whole bunch of copper wires hanging to the floor. They used them to tire the door to stay open when needed. IN one moment the guy screamed.

- Close the door! - I wasn’t sure to whom. In the waiting room were two kiosk, where tickets for the local buses were sold. Nice looking woman came from one of those. She was covered with golden jewelry, black skirt, black pantyhose with few holes in it. Those pantyhose were fashionable in Cuba, probably 90% of the women wore the same model. No matter age or size.

The distance between the guy and the door was 2 meters. The distance between the lady and the door 15 meters. I looked to Helen and i told her.

- That has to be very difficult person.

In about 10 minutes the lady showed up again. She must be sexual harassed at his work. With this tight ass and those boobs almost outside. Especially in this country. She opened the door and walked back. The guy started to work. He was screaming the name of each destination, without moving his fat ass away from the chair. When he came to Playa Larga we walked in. I could see, that there is door for elevator in the “office” Probably it worked in the beginning of its existence. We reserved the seats and walked away. You can’t buy the ticket neither. You have to come one hour before your bus, so you can buy it then.

At 16.30 we came back to wait for the bus which leaves at 17.40. I needed to pee but it turned out that there is no public toilet in the bus terminal. The train station was on the back, so I went there to search for the loo. Old lady was asking money for the toilet. I gave her peso nacional.

- Don’t you have from the other? - she meant the cuc.

- You want 1 cuc to use this toilet? No, I don’t have - and I walked in, leaving her without further comments. I put attention on THIS TOILET. I wanted her to understand somehow that she provide service. And when you ask money for something, you has to deliver something too. I doubt she could get that part anyways. This toilet, like any other public toilet, has never been cleaned. The doors doesn’t close, and etc...I already mention it before.

kids on the street of Cienfuego. They were bulling one hobo

At 8 pm the Viazul bus dropped us next to the road at Playa Larga. The hosts in Cienfuegos reserved us house and the new host was waiting for us with tricycle. We attached the back packs to it and jumped in. In about 10 minutes we were in the house. Maybe here I can explain how the housing in Cuba works. There are plenty of home stays, called Casa Particular, usually blue anchor (kind of anchor, upside down) is the symbol for it. You stay with some family and you get a room with private toilet. Which is very convenient, especially for smaller villages where hotels or other sort of tourist accommodations don’t exist. Normally you don’t need to make reservation, to call or whatever. You arrive in the town, walk towards the direction you want to be accommodated and you will see plenty of blue anchor signs, or just Casa Particular on the door. Just walk in and ask. With so much choice you will find available easy. Not guarantee what is inside, but those houses are controlled by the government, the cubans are very respectful to the power of the government. Mostly they will deliver you the service on the right way. Many houses would offer you breakfast or dinner, but we took it once or twice only. I rather eat outside or cook myself.

The room we have got was small for the double bed, but they still managed to put in there little refrigerator, fan and air conditioner. The fridge was full with beer, the price of which was exaggerated. We took all the beer out and put inside water and everything else we want to cool. We choose to buy beer outside, where was 3 to 4 times cheaper.

Playa larga is little village on the beach in the Bay of the pigs...CIA and Kennedy administration tried to invade Cuba in the 60s (again). They painted the fighters in the Cuban flag colors, even they hired cuban pilots, deserted from Cuba after the revolution in 59. They launch the attack in the bay of the pigs, and somehow they managed to miss the targets. The whole thing became huge fiasco.

Coconut palm trees are growing right on the beach and our house was just 30 mtrs away. Next morning we shoot this way immediately after the coffee. The beach near the house was full with seaweed, but a bit further we could find white sand with crystal blue water.

the bay of the pigs

In playa larga 9 of each 10 houses was renting a room. This village is going to be eaten from sharks!

The host told us about some american guy, who came here and wanted to rent directly quarter of all the houses. He wanted to rent them to tourists, probably giving peanuts to the owners. Capitalism is not just knocking on the door. It is already in, looking around, which piece to grab first.

Before Castro, Cuba was governed by Batista, which was supported from the american government. Cuba used to be piece of paradise for rich Americans. They liked to come here, to gamble and drink, to fuck prostitute for pennies. The cubans were not happy at all, but Batista didn’t care much. He got the power and the people were afraid of him. And if somebody raised voice, Batista would send him some visitors, to make friendship. On the hard way!

Fidel Castro and Ernesto Gevara found each other, disappointed from capitalism on his own way. They didn’t want to accept it anymore and raised fists in the air. It wasn’t difficult to pull the villagers on their side, and after some guerrilla movements, partisan rebels and etc. they turned Batista down. Fidel took the power and Che Gevara went to liberate other countries from the imperialists. Cubans were happy not to be under Batista anymore, and not to be amused from americans. All good. But the revolution, 60 years later, didn’t bring them so far. That’s what I saw. After Fidel Castro got sick he gave the power to his brother Raul Castro. The last one seems to be more pragmatic and reasonable. He gave to the cubans a bit more freedom, let them run little businesses. The country is changing drastically. From communism, through socialism, and smoothly towards capitalism. Soon they will end up exactly where senor Fidel Castro and Ernesto Gevara pull them out in the end of the 50s. .

Noel and Berdica (the hosts in Playa Larga) were very interested about the fact that I am Bulgarian. First from all, not many people from Bulgaria are coming around and secondary I am coming from ex-communist country. Noel especially was asking me all the time what it was, what do I remember, what is now. What I told Noel seemed to make him a bit disturbed and stressed out. If I go further I may slip towards politics and the purpose of this article is completely different.

- I only hope, that whatever happen will happen on peaceful way - he told me philosophically.

Somewhere, between those conversations, Noel told me, that he is thankful of Venezuella helping to Cuba with petrol. Poor bastard. I felt sorry for those people.

In Venezuela the petrol cost dimes. In Cuba petrol 94 unleaded was 1.20 cuc (in Europe in the same time the price was in euro - 1 in Bulgaria, 1.10 in Spain, 1.20 in the Nederlands) I also saved to Noel what is happening in Venezuela right now. For sure some disinformation was around Cuba too.

Who I am to judge...They may thank Venezuela as much as they want. I have my own problems.

On the second day in Playa Larga we hired two bicycles. Noel had only one, without brakes. But the neighbors had better ones. We agreed the night before, 5 cuc per bike for the day. On the morning Noel brought the bikes. Two rusty pieces of metal, the gear and brake cables were hanging loose, the seats were ripped off. One was city cruiser with 3 gears, the other was old mountain bike with 3 by 6 gear wheels. How many of those were working is other story. Couple of times we needed to stop next to the road to attach the fallen chain on both of the bikes. The cable of the front gear wheel was so tight, that the button to change gears was coming back every time we tried to change. If you want to change gears, you have to keep it with your thumb to the front. On the way back I had this bike and I blocked it with some wooden stick I found next to the road. The wheels of the cruiser were big enough to ride in the sand. I thought that it will be super difficult to ride this one. I was wrong. Never judge from the outlook. It was twice easier to ride this monster.

We exit the village, the road was horrible, as any other road in Cuba. But was cruising along the sea and it was flat. The area is not very inhabited, there was not trafic luckily. We were riding on road, surrounded by forests on one side and the sea and palmtrees on the other. We passed next to few vacantional villages used only from cubans. In one moment we turned right and in 20 meters we ended up on little fairy lonely beach. We sat on the sand, had some water and enjoy the view towards the Bay of the pigs. After the brake it took us another 1 hour and something to the Cueva de peces. While locking the bikes came a guy and asked 1 cuc each.

- For what? - I asked him

- For parking.

He wanted us to pay him, so we can leave our bikes in the forest, attached to one of the trees. Helen interfere here. She is blond, nice looking girl and can handle such a situation better than me. She told him that we took only money for food with us. Which wasn’t far away from the truth. Well, I had money to pay, but that parking fee was just shot in the dark from the guy.

- No hay problema, tu tranquillo - said the gentleman and left us alone.

Cueva de pesces is underwater cave connected to the sea. On the beach side was full with people snorkeling or scuba diving. I count at least 5 huts offering diving services. The cave itself is 70 meters deep, with diameter between 20 and 5 meters. It is around 200 meters from the beach. In the water were swimming 20 people already. Buses with organized excursions were arriving and leaving. We throw the clothes, put on the snorkels we were carrying with us and we jumped in the water. After the bike trip, the water felt refreshing. But the visibility under the water was horrible. It was dusty till 1.5-2 mtrs deep, from the movement of all those people. If you would dive deeper, you may find better views. I dove till 4-5 mtrs and the temperature changed radically. It was maybe 30 degress down there. I could see much better, but looking down was pitch black. All kind of fishes in all the colours were swimming around. Kind of corals were living on the stones. I bumped few times in the people around. We sat a bit on the edge and decided to go on. Too many people for our standards. And I would enjoy more if I had better apnea. For free divers that place must be a gem.

We head to the cafeteria for juice and something to eat. Portion of rice was 6 cuc. No, thank you. I got bread with some kind of sausage and ketchup for 2.50. They called it hot dog. If I would be sitting in a chair, on a table, if someone comes to serve it with servillete, fork and plate, stick some pickle inside, if there was some music on the background, I could explain myself the price. 2.50 dollars is normal price for hot dog in many countries. Even cheap in other. But in Cuba, where the monthly salary is 50 dollars...is called rip-off. Helen as vegetarian couldn’t eat here anything else than pure rice for 6 cuc. She gave a pass to it.

The next destination was Punta Perdiz, 6 km further south. Another half hour with the bike. In our guide was written about sunken ship near the coast. We arrived, few carss and bus were parked behind wooden fence. We locked the bikes and started to walk towards the water, when guy with black trousers and white shirt came to us.

- Hey amigo, espera! - he came closer and asked 15 cuc each from us.

- Why do you want moeny from us. We just park the bikes and we go to swim in the sea.

- entrance. Includes drincs and food. - I look around, while thinking.

- well I dont want your drinks and food. We just want to go in the water.

- not possible

I didn’t know what else to say. We both got confused. We asked him how we can get to the sea and the sunken ship. 1 km back is a beach, where we can hire a boat. I was angry with the situation. Helen was stoic. Nicely he told him to go and jerk himself off. And to roll the 15 cuc and put them somewhere. One of the chains fell off and while pushing the bikes back and cursing Cuba, we passed the fence and we saw little path between the trees. Little sandy beach was on the end of the path. We locked the bikes and I digged the telephone I was carrying with us, under the some rocks. Family with two kids were also on the beach. Swedish or Norwegian. They also spat over the 15 cuc. We could see few hundred meters further Punta Perdiz and bunch of people swimming. We put the snorkels and the mask again and went in the water. The bottom was white fine sand, soft as cashmere. The sea was getting deeper very slow. Here and there we could see some rock or coral and colourful fisehs were swimming around all of them. The water was warm and incredibly transparent. We were floating in the soft water, with eyes staring to the bottom. More deep we go, less sand and morer corals we could see. The corals were taking shape of trumpets upside down, trees or mushrooms. I saw a type of coral, which had the shape of dried tree leaf. We were able to see at least 20 meters away. Thousands of fishes, sephias, blue fish with yellow fins, pinkish/yellow/orange fish, red/white and black, with dots, with stripes, small and big one. A fish around half meter with yellow fin passed underneath me. Sea urchins with 30 cm spikes were warning me to stay away. I was in extase, diving towards the bottom, so i can pass as close as possible to the marine life. Never seen such a vivid underwater world. I was keeping an eye on Helen too. We came close to Punta Perdiz, people were swiming closer to us. We asked spanish cople if they knew where is the sunken ship. They were told to swim straight out of some tree, which wa already lost in between the others on the beach. We left them and kept swimming. It was already 7-8 meters deep, maybe even 10 and around 300-400 mtrs away from the beach, when we saw a boat with the keel up. The sunken ship was actually sunken fishing boat, not longer than 5-6 meters. We were diving down, next to it and getting back up for air. Well, it wasn’t much more to see and we started to swim slowly back studying the underwater liife. Once I wanted to study marine biology. Somebody asked me why I would bother with that. This day exactly I really wanted to know more about Costo’s world.

We swam to the beach had a rest on the hot sand and slowly started to bike back to Playa Larga. We made 40 km on bike and swam at least 1 km this day. I was exosted.

Next day we went to crocodile farm. They breed them, to protect the species. Also to supply the restaurants around with crocodile meat. I didn’t try it, I felt pity for the animals after I saw how they are living.

guy with his little friend in the crocodile farm

Last day in Playa Larga we spent on the beach. Here we had a chat with cuban guy, who used to live in France 15 years. He had hostal with 8 rooms and restaurant. Didn’t stop to invite us in the restaurant. He really wanted us to try crocodile meat, which apparently was forbidden to sell (according to him) but he knew the right people. Of course. I guess he made some money in France and he invested them back home now. Probably he was often on the beach, fishing out clients.

Helen wanted to drink coco milk out of the nut. We decided to search ourselves. Coconut palms were everywhere. Noel gave me machete, but i refused to walk with that outside. Back home the police will arrest me if they see me walking with machete on the street. I told him that we walk back to open the nut. If we find one. They were widely to sell, but I am survivor and I like to do things on the hard way. On the beach we found some not so high trees, I got long stick left from somebody and started to shake the coconuts. After long fight, completely covered with sweat and sand, two nuts fell next to me on the sand.

me, hunting coconuts

Walking back to the house, stout guy in his middle age, with greek nose and big smile saw us from his garden and shouted to us.

- This is good one, come with me. - well he was talking loud, didn’t really shouted. We were not sure where this is going - come, come, I am coconut specialist. And pina colada expert. I will open it for you.

The backyard was the entrance to his restaurant. He was the owner and he really knew about coconuts. He pulled out machete, put the nut on one stump and started to chop it off. He made it evenly flat on the underpart, then he sharpened the upper part till he reach the nut itself and made little hole in it, to reach the milk. Till we were busy with the guy, young guy started to climb one of the palm trees on the other side of the road. I saw him, when he was already up there. He had rope around his waist. The rope wasn’t there for safety. And the tree was not like the one on the beach. It was at least 20 meters high. Once up on the tree, he pulled the rope, on the other end was attached machete. He started to cut off clusters with nuts, tie them to the rope and slowly to drop them down. He was collecting nuts for the restaurant. The guy with the loud voice was explaining us how to recognize the green from the good ones. He made mojitos and pina coladas all his life. His were the best. In 1 minute he already had his phone in the hand, showing us photos of his kid, which was 3 years. He didn’t stop talking. Once we got home and showered we went to eat and after that decided to give a try to his pina coladas. He was so happy when we showed up.

- Heee, i knew you will come back guys!!!

I never learned the name of the restaurant. Neither the name of the guy(only remember it was starting with K) . But if you ever go to Playa Larga, you should check out this little place on the south west end of the village. Walk on the beach, then after the last houses turn right and you will see it in about 20 meters.

He opened two nuts for us, poured the milk in juicer, threw in ananas juice, rum, don’t know what else, he filled the nuts with this, threw in spoon of canela and serve it to us. It was the best think we drank after two weeks in Cuba. He kept pouring rum, I needed to ask him to be careful on that. And I am person who is suckled with beer and vodka! He brought somee pie too.

- Try this and tell me what it is. - it was something covered with caramel. Good one. We paid,said goodbye and walked away. The Pina Colada, this guy, his pie, his smile and loud voice and his coconuts...this was probably the best thing that happened to us in this fucked up country.

a guy climbing the palm tree to collect the coconuts

Wherever we were looking information about Cuba, Vinales was mentioned as Must see place. It is in the north west part of the island and we left it as last, before going to Havana. Berdica found us some taxi, which can bring us here from Playa Larga,with change somewhere near Havana. The price was 35 cuc, which was almost the same as the bus. It was supposed to be shared with more people, but we were alone in the car. And the driver, of course. We drove mostly on highways and we saw mostly the trees next to the road. It took 5 hours in total. I started a chat wth the driver, about the cars in Cuba. Even if you have the money, you can’t buy brand new car. Unless you are company. Private people can buy only used ones. That sounded strange to me. We were in Pegeout 405 from 1990. The price of this car was around 35000 cuc. For less money you can buy the new Peugeout.The russian Ladas were sold around 15-20 000 cuc, depending on the conditions. The amrerican racks were average 10 000. Depending on model and age of course. Only one tire was 185 cuc. 185 dollars for tire...man, I change 4 of them on such a car, for the same money. I couldn't explain it with anything less, than the fact, that there is no choice. It is demand on cars, but no cars. There are not scrapyards in Cuba. No auto dealers. Parts which are to sell are limited. The cubans are fixing almost everything I believe. And what is not fixable and has to be replaced, has to be brought from outside the country from relatives going on holiday. Eventually. I remember bulgarian movie “moves on the 5th floor” where one guy was going on a business trip to Japan. His colleague was asking him to bring car axe for his Toyota.

This little chat somehow explained the insane taxi prices in Cuba.

We spoke a lot with Helen about what we see. Revolution was needed for those people. More than ever. But it was too hot to do anything like that.

petrol station in Cuba

We arrived in Vinales to find Babylon. Tourists from all around the world. Everywhere. Every single house was Casa Particular. On every street corner was a restaurant or bar. Verybody was living out of tourism. Youo have horses - you sell horse riding. You have tobacco - you sell cigars to the tourists. You have spare room - casa particular. I was shocked. Didn’t expect this at all and I was ready to head back to the quietness of Playa Larga. And of course, you can make a lot more money in tourism than working for the country. Salary in Cuba is 50 dolars. For everybody. You study 10 years to became doctor - 50 dollars. You are dumb, lazy ass, who barely can write and you will clean the streets - salary 50 dollars a month. But if you have room and you rent it - 25 cuc a night. You have a car and drive taxi - 25 cuc to havana! And 25 back. If you do it twice in one day you can party tonight. Why would you spend 8 hours working! The last taxi we had, from Havana to the airport - the driver was psychologist - teacher in the university. He told me:

- I teach in the university and I spend there 6-8 hours a day and I get 51 dollars a month. I drive taxi and some days I can make 50 dollars a day.

The driver who brought us here offered us the house of his sister, who had rooms for 35 cuc. We were used to pay 25 all the time and refused. He dropped us in the center, so we started to look around for accomodation. We ended up in front of the door of some green house. Lady in her 50s opened the door, she had a room, which was looking ok and we decided to take it. While registering I went to the toilet and I didn’t see a lid and seat. I asked the lady if she is going to put one. She said no. Well, no deal then. Helen was not willing to go, but I already had my back pack and walked out. Plenty of houses around. I saw toilet seats on sell in one shop. Didn’t see the price, maybe wasn’t cheap, but if the lady rents the room she should be able to afford a seat and lid on the toilet. Well with all those people around, someone else will rent it for sure.

We asked a bit more up the street. They didn’t have, but the cousin of the husband of the ant of the whatever it was had room for us. It was on the next street. We took it, left the backs and went for a walk. The town was literally overfilled with tourists. We checked the menus in some restaurants. The prices were insane too. Beer was 3 cuc, coffee with milk 3.50, mojito for 5. We found one restaurant run by the government, where we could eat for 4-5 cuc a decent dinner. As well there was vegetarian restaurant in Vinales, which was good surprise for Helen.

Mural Prehistorico in Vinales

In the valle of Vinales was growing a lot of Tobacco. Most of the cuban cigars were coming from here. In the farms where they grow and dry it, you can also try it. We made a big tour on the next day. We started with the Murral Prehistorico, which was a rock in the mountain, painted by some enthusiasts. I saw it and my first taught was that there are much better ways to spend your time. Instead of painting the rocks. But that was local monument, which I maybe have to give a bit more respect. We go on towards some cave. We ended on black road and I saw woman in her garden. I asked for directions. Instead of answer she offered us bananas.

- how much you want for this bananas?

- Whatever you feel to pay. If you don’t pay is still alright - she said. That was the second cuban who didn't try to rip us off.

We went on towards Palmerito cave. Which turned in to very pleasant walk through the valley of Vinales. Cowboys or tourists on horses were passing by all the time. We had a look in one of the places where they dry tobacco. A guy showed up and offered us cigars. I was trying to quit smoking, so decided not to buy. But honestly, If I would smoke, I definitely would buy from one of those farms.

The valley itself is between some little mountains, which are nearly vertical in places. It is national park Vinales, part of Sierra de Organos. Up there in the mountain lives tribe, which call themselves Aquarius. In the old days, conventional medicine wasn’t very reachable around here, so Aquarius learned to treat everything with water. Till nowadays, they keep this healing method for themselves. Of course you could buy healing water up there. And coffee. Probably also healing. Whatever.

We were wandering around walking the campesinos paths. Asking here and there for directions. The most common answer was:

- para alla (that way) - they were very difficult if they have to explain a bit more.

We finally found the cave. I needed to pay two cuc to a guy who brought me and few more tourists to the bottom. Helen didn’t want to go in. The cave was long 200 meters, and ended up with muddy pool. One girl jumped in the water. Don’t know why. I think she wanted to get the most out of her 2 cuc she paid to enter. And nevertheless all the effort to be here. I never been thinking how long would be nanosecond, but that must be the time she spend in the water. I guess was cold.

The views around were amazing. Long fields with tobacco, surrounded from the green hill around. The cowboys riding their horses, the drying wooden barns, nicely aged on the sun were making everything to look authentic. It is definitely must see area! But too overcrowded.

We arrived exhausted back in the town. Excursion well worth.

tobacco

and even more tobacco in Vinales

We spend the next day up and down the dirty roads, which doesn’t worth much words. In the afternoon I wanted to take sunset photo from the local baseball stadium. It was looking higher, than actually it was. We went there and we took with us bottle of rum with two cans of lemon juice. There was still plenty of light and the kids were playing baseball on the field. They had a coach and in one moment the coach left the field and passed next to us. Helen asked him if he knows when we can see game in Havana? Industriales Havana were out of the championship and they will not play anymore this season. They talk a bit and Helen ended up on the field throwing ball with the coach. I kept sitting, drinking rum and waiting for the sunset. Which wasn’t as colorful as I wish. If I wouldn’t bring my camera, it would be beautiful, for sure. The coach asked me if I would like to go down and throw the ball. No, I wouldn’t like. I have rum! I think he got me right, because soon he called one youngster 15-16 years old to entertain Helen. Then he got plastic cup from somewhere and joined me. We had interesting chat. He had a kid in Miami. He used to be married, but he divorced and the mother went in America, together with the kid. He couldn’t go. He never been outside Cuba. As most of the cubans. The government was paying him shitty salary to train kids. As baseball coach he have been to Santiago, to Trinidad and more. The baseball players were also taking 50 dollars salary as everybody else. The dream of the cuban baseball player - to run to America and to play in the professional league. So hard life are having the cubans. None of them had the choice over his own destiny.

It got dark outside and none of us saw nice sunset. But the rum was good. It was getting late and it was time to go. The trainer (I have never been good with names) had still rum in his glass, but he hurried to pour more, before I am gone with the rest of the bottle. Which was nearly empty. He told me, that it is not easy for him to buy bottle of Havana club. Before we go a friend of the coach (who joined later) asked us how much we pay for accommodation. I told him 25 cuc. Both of them started to calculate how much is 25 times 30 nights...I didn’t mention that many houses have more than one room. But they were very impressed with the profits of Casas Particulares.

On the next day, the taxi to Havana was waiting for us in front of the door at 8.30 sharp. The host arranged it for us. We were paying 3 cuc more than what we would pay to Viazul. But it will deliver us on the place we want. In Havana, the bus terminal was outside the city. Just to make it easier. The taxi also picked up a couple from Czech republic going also to Havana. The driver was young guy, who work with his father. The highway had 3 lanes, but everybody was driving wherever he likes. Maybe was a rule, to take over on the left side, but nobody was very fanatic about it. No one used indicators, but they were horning like crazy.
Everywhere were people along the road, waving with hand wind banknotes in it. Showing that they will pay for the ride. Sometimes they were waving from the middle of the road. Or they drink too much rum or thy have super strong nerves. The shared transport is well accepted and stimulated in Cuba. i remember in France the transport companies were striking against Uber few years ago. Such a thing can’t happen in Cuba. Not yet.

horse car on the highway

We were already one hour on the road, when the car pulled a bit and started to lose power. I was on the seat next to the driver. I had a look on the dash board and all the lights were on. The car was off. We stopped and opened the hood. Everything was super clean around the engine. The distribution belt was broken. The driver said, that the car came back from the garage two weeks ago. It had distribution belt replaced. Our driver started to call here and there. His father will come to pull him in the garage, and another car will come for us. All the time were stopping cars - to see if they can help. And everybody wanted to look under the hood. To make sure, that the belt is the reason of that misfortune. The belt couldn't be more broken than that. This was pegueot 405. The 35000 cuc car...normally you have to change the head of the engine after broken belt. I thought it will not be cheap,but the driver seemed to be very relaxed about it.

I was taking some photos next to the road, when green russian Lada arrived for us. We replaced the luggage in the Lada and continued to Havana. The young driver was left behind, to wait for his father.

When we enter Havana, the Lada driver asked for the address. He didn’t know the street and I put on the GPS on my phone, to avoid wandering around. We arrived in small street with dodgy houses. My enthusiasm was sinking down. In the house they looked a bit surprise from our arrival. The room wasn’t ready, but it didn’t take long before we can have it. Our room was overlooking to the internal patio. The house itself was not far from the center of Havana and the Malecon.

We had few days to see around. After our Cuba experience by far, I was very skeptic and didn't want to expect much.

We walked down to the Malecon first. It has 6 car lanes and ends with wall. In wavy days the water is coming on the road. The length is around 8 km and connect the Old Havana with the new center. Every evening hundreds of cubans are coming to hang out here. From all ages. To have a chat, to dance if someone brings guitar, to drink cervesa and rum. People selling popcorns, lighters, lollipops and etc are passing by all the time. We are standing out as tourists (white guys, blond girl...well I can easy go for cuban, but Helen is standing out). All the mariachi stopped by us trying to make some CUCs by giving us serenada. 200 km behind the wall, on the other side of the sea is Miami. This is dream place for many of the cubans.

the malecon in Havana

On the road were driving mostly old american cars - normally with tourists - it was about the ride in such a rack, not about the destination. The old houses, the cars...it was surreal view, bringing us back 60 years ago. But it was real. Once in awhile was passing some new car, to bring us back to reality. I saw once brand new Mercedes. Probably the car from some politician or some foreign consulaat.

the beggining of the malecon near Old Havana

Old Havana is the cash machine of the capital. Luxury bars and restaurants, discotheques and hotels with impossible prices to us. Some of them were hiding stories for gangster wars or movie stars. The streets were crowded, many tourists (recently Cuba opened doors for americans too). Marriachi with guitars, paintors, salsa and merenge sounds everywhere. Old black women dressed in all the colours of the rainbow and cigar between the fingers are asing money for photo with them. Another old black woman, dressed in pink dress, probably fashionable in the 60s is pushing baby buggy with dakel in it. THis one didn’t ask money. I think she had voices in her head. The streets were paved, clean and well maintained. A loto of police presence.

Wealth and poverty are living on the same street. Just follow one street, until you are out of the central area. Here are living the working class heroes. Poverty, dressed up with houses falling apart, potholed streets, slops leaking everywhere, food thrown out of the windows rotting on the street. The stench of all this and urine and dog shit can make you puke. Next to the pavement are often flowing grey waters with car oil and every possible leftover you can imagine. You will not see this in any tourist gid. There is no photoshop here. You can’t change that in the light room. The misery will be still there. But thats real Cuba, out of the tourist paths. Of course, you can’t sell very easy a tourist guide with half naked hungry kid on the cover page.

building on the back streets of Old Havana

Big cruiser ships were entering the harbour of Havana. Big cruiser was anchored on the pier. Thousands of tourists are dropped here, just for a day. Before they go on to Kingstown or Puerto Rico.

Many parks and green area are in the center. Most of the benches were taken from hobos with bottle of rum in the hand. They may come and ask if you have some coin for them. Then they will turn around and pee on the tree across the street. There are no public toilets, the smell of urine stays until it is washed with the next rain.

We walked to Stadion Latinoamericano - just in case, to check for any baseball games. But there was nothing going on soon. But next to Plaza de Revolucion we found little play ground where guys in uniforms were playing baseball. Los Ceros versus somebody else. It was game between different districts. We and another 15 people watched the game. The ball flew out of the field 4 times in less than hour. Helen was very impressed with the level they were playing.

Plaza de Revolucion itself was in preparation. There were few towers with TV cameras on them, plastic chairs, little stagee, big speakers and lots of police. On 2nd of January there was a parade here and they were getting ready. Near by was the ministry of the economy and in the yard was parked Granma - the boat with which Fidel arrived from Mexico in 56. The boat was put on wheels and it was about to take part of the parade.

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the boat Granma

Cuba is extremely safe country. A lot of police, a lot of control. Crime against tourists was treated as more serious than crime between locals. It is very rare if someone tries to rob you. No one has a gun here, only the police and the army. Our next destination was Mexico and we were going further south in countries with highest rate of crime, where crime is way of life for many people. I didn’t want to think about it.

Cubans seems to be friendly, but in between were many crunky people too. Sometimes I think that the friendliness was fake...tourists with money, they won't leave a lot of CUC if I am sulky. In the other hand we met many people who were not gold diggers are were very nice to us. Like the baseball coach in Vinales, or the coconut master in Playa Larga. Helen tripped and fell on the floor on arrival in Santiago. Immediately 5 people from all the sides came to help her standing. Well, blond, young girl. Maybe they wouldn’t run to help me. I didn't’ fall to check it out. But I prefer to assume that they will. They don’t own much. But maybe they still have their dignity and high moral values. This is something you don’t buy in the shop. There are some good things which came out of this revolution.

On many places we saw signs Fidel forever, Victory, Socialism or death, Cuba is ours and etc. They can write many things on the walls, but this country is going in completely different direction. Capitalism is walking slowly in. I wonder how long will take before the dignity is replaced with greediness.

view from the Malecon towards old Havana backstreets

There was time, when cubans were happy to be saved from the clutches of the American eagle. Nowadays, most of them wouldn’t mind some westernety. I believe this country will go back towards the state it was in the 50s, before Fidel Castro and Che kicked out Batista.Politically I mean. But the time will show the best.

For us was time to go. Old Buick brought us to the airport. I spent my last cucs on Havana club. What else to do with them. Three weeks in Cuba. WHat I was expecting, didn’t come even close to reality. But I didn’t go disappointed. No! This is very vivid and colourful country. Very controversial as well. ANd it is not cheap destination at all. THere are few places which we planned to visit, but we couldn’t. Mainly because of transportation. If I ever come back here, I definitely would do my best to get a car. But now. Is time to focus on Mexico. Adios Cuba, hasta la proxima! Or should I say, hasta siempre.