Elsie's Cuba diary - week 2

Moon rising over a Cuban village

Friday 6^th March

Today was designated a rest day. After all our activity over the past week I needed time to catch on the mundane things of life – wash my hair, clean the toilet, sweep the floor, get the laundry done – all the things that make living on a yacht the same as living in a house. We were still on the dock, making it easy to get ashore and hand in laundry to Rosa and have an hour of internet in the hotel. We met Mark and Lisa from Wild Iris. They had arrived on Wednesday from Puerto Rico and were off to the big city to have a look around and catch some Jazz at The Iris Club. We will catch up with them tomorrow.

Jose Marti

Before lunch we went back out to anchor and were welcomed by the blast of loud music from the café ashore. Great. In the afternoon we pottered around doing little jobs but mostly reading and listening to radio. Sundowners were inside as the mossies were out in force and dinner was left over bacon, pasta and a jar of tomato sauce with some chopped onion – we really must do some shopping. Tomorrow maybe.

Saturday 7^th March

Because we had been so lazy yesterday, we hadn’t even bothered to collect our clean laundry from Rosa, so first thing Lionel went to get it and to ask Pedro if he could get us a dozen eggs. He took our own boxes as the egg trays can be covered in ants and such like. Hopefully we will have at least eggs to eat on the next part of our next cruise.

ship entering the channel

We went over to Wild Iris to say hello and were offered a cup of tea. It was a good catch up. The idea was to catch the midday ferry into Santiago and have a look around the Agro markets, these are the fresh fruit and vegetable markets with small stalls and good prices. Mark and Lisa joined us on the ferry and as they had more or less the same idea we stuck together. When we found the first Agro market it looked good – lettuce, cucumber, tomato, melon, pineapple, potatoes, beans and all sorts of exotic things which I don’t know the names of were for sale. The stall holders seemed to be saying the market was open till midnight. Good. I didn’t fancy carrying a fortnight supply of fruit and veg around the town, so the idea was we would come back once we were ready to go back to the boat and buy then. The second one we went to was closed but would reopen at 6pm

Cemetary

That done, the next thing on the list was to visit the cemetery where Fidel and his band of brothers are buried. On the way we passed a local outdoor café and decided a quick bite to eat was in order. It was busy so when two guys asked us to join them, we sat down. In the middle of the table was a large stand with a 3-litre beaker of beer on it. We were given plastic cups and told to drink up. Lionel and Mark got stuck in. I had half a cup and decided it tasted ok so filled it up again. Lisa declined. She found the local beer rough but they didn’t seem to sell anything else. We also ordered fried chicken but after an hour, Lionel had bought another 3 litres of beer to keep us all going, it hadn’t appeared. We queried it with the waitress and I think there had been a misunderstanding and our lunch appeared ten minutes later. It was OK but not as good as last Saturdays from the street vendor. After we settled up and I went to the toilet, deciding I wasn’t that desperate we continued our walk to the cemetery, a little slower than before but we got there eventually.

The official name is Cementerio Santa Ifigenia and it was created in 1868 to accommodate the victims of the War of Independence along with the people who died of an outbreak of yellow fever around about the same time. There are many famous people buried here but the grave I most wanted to see was Fidel’s. His was a simple boulder with his name on it. Very simple which is what he asked for. After he died his ashes did a cross country procession that recreated his victory march of 1959.

Fidel's grave

He was interred here on December 4^th 2016 alongside his own hero Jose Marti, the hero of the Spanish/American war. Marti’s monument is far more imposing with a huge mausoleum guarded by three soldiers and a hexagonal coffin draped with the Cuban flag.

Marti's grave

The Guard gets changed every half hour. During the ceremony everyone else is shepherded into a little compound where we solemnly watched the precise marching and eloquent ballet of the troops.

Precise marching

 On our way out of the cemetery Lisa remarked it had made her think of John Cleese’s ministry of silly walks. I was glad she hadn’t said that during the ceremony, I think I would have been thrown out for giggling. There were many other graves depicting the last resting places of the great and good of Cuba.

Bacardi grave

The Bacardi family were very prominent and a huge wall was detected to all the men and women who had been killed in the Revolution.

Wall of Rememberance

An eternal flame burnt to commemorate all the Cuban lives lost during those two conflicts. It was rather strange being directed along the “official” pathways by security but Fidel and Marti are treated like Gods in this country so it shouldn’t surprise me.

Eternal flame

It had started to rain by now so a taxi was sought and found very easily to take us into the centre of town. A bank was needed so we got out at Parque Cespedes. It was too late now to visit the Cathedral and the Rum Museum so we all headed up Plaza de Marte where the food stalls and party is on a Saturday evening.

Local Oyster Drink

The Moncada Barracks are also up this way. This is where a young law student Fidel Alejandro Castro Ruz and his 116 handpicked followers stormed this large military barracks and started The Modern Revolution in 1953. He picked July 26^th, the day after Santiago’s annual carnival when both the police and soldiers would be tired and hung over. It didn’t go well and the attack lasted all of ten minutes, with five rebels shot dead with the rest escaping into the mountains where Fidel was captured a few days later. He was spared execution due to the public revulsion over other brutal executions and lived to fight another day. I bet Batista rued that day the rest of his life.

barracks with bullet holes

The rain had put out most of the barbeques so cooked pig and chicken were in short supply. We managed to buy a scrawny half cooked chicken for 3CUC, two meals worth we reckoned. Lionel spotted a shop with a carneceria (butcher) sign above the door. He went in to investigate but was told the produce was only for citizens with ration tickets so came away empty handed which was a disappointment.

Moncada barracks

The rain started and we decided it wasn’t an evening for listening to music and dancing so we headed back down the hill to one of the Agro markets which we spotted earlier. It was open and milling with people buying their weeks supply of vegetables. These markets are not self-service and there seemed to be a lot of haggling going on about quality and price. I stood in a queue for about ten minutes. Now a queue in Cuba may just look like a rabble of people to me and you but there is structure in it. When approaching the rabble, the question you ask or shout is “Quien Es el Ultimo?” or “who is last?”. The last person in the queue raises their hand and you stand behind them. Phew you’re in the system now but you must listen carefully for a person asking the same question and you indicate you are last then you can relax. It may look like people are leaving the queue or pushing in front but they wander off and look at something else or go and have a chat with their friends but they will return when it is their turn to be served. Complicated but it works. I realised there was only one or two things that I wanted and the wait was not going to be worth it. Lionel went around the corner to the other market but it was closed even though we understood it was open to midnight – must brush up on Spanish. The decision was made to return back to the boat and we got a non-descript car back. I reflected on the way home that the lack of fresh fruit and vegetables was not a huge problem. This is why we had stocked up on so many tins and dried goods and we were very unlikely to starve in the next two weeks. There was also a pack of vitamin pills in the head cupboard which was still full after almost five years travelling.

We made a detour to Pedro’s to collect eggs which he hadn’t got yet. On impulse we gave him a list of fruit and vegetables to buy for us as well along with some money, the Cubans do like the money upfront and we trusted Pedro to a certain extent. The items were carefully written down and I for one felt slightly better in the knowledge that this expert was going to negotiate the markets instead of us getting up to catch the six o’clock ferry tomorrow morning. A long lie……maybe if the music didn’t start too early.

Rainy Plaza

Sunday 8^th March

Sunday was a rather frustrating day. We had hoped to be leaving Punta Gorda today but because of the fresh food situation we had to stay. We got up at our usual time and while sitting at breakfast Lionel happened to glance at the time on his phone. It was an hour later than we realised but the ship’s clock still said the time we thought it was. Daylight saving had come to Cuba and no one had told us. After breakfast I wandered up to the hotel to get some internet and was told it was off as the area was experiencing short power cuts. Another disappointment. There had been talk of taking the ferry over to the outside shore and having a walk but neither of us could drum up the enthusiasm so the rest of the day was spent reading, writing and listening to some radio. Lionel went ashore to pay our bill of 375CUC, booking in to Cuba, visitors visas, boat visa, four nights on the dock and six nights at anchor. Yes, we had to pay to anchor. On the off chance we wandered back down to the hotel and low and behold the internet was back on so we had a fix of emails, Facebook and other stuff. I had made a list of places and anchorages we would like to stop in but the Port Captain wasn’t there to confirm or deny where we could or could not stop so that was another job for Monday morning. Now, all we needed to do was collect our fruit, vegetables and eggs from Pedro after we had dinner with them which I had eventually agreed to. I dug out a bottle of wine from the bottom of our spirit store. It’s amazing how rum has taken over from wine as our preferred drink, nothing to do with the price comparison of course. I also took along a set of colouring pens for Pedro’s grandson and a vest top for Rosa who had asked me yesterday if I had any old bras that I could give her. She said she had only one fairly washed out one. I didn’t have any bras but thought a top might be well received.

Dinner was different, that’s the best way I can put it. The food was good and we each had a glass of wine which I realised we shouldn’t have opened as they didn’t seem to enjoy it and it was probably earmarked to sell. During dinner there was no conversation. It is very hard to talk with a television blaring and your hosts attention on the news program. Very bad manners in the UK but it seemed to be the Cuban way. A power cut struck as we were finishing dinner and the TV went off and was not switched back on, thank goodness. It’s amazing how we have come accustomed to no noise in the background except wind and weather. At last we asked for the supplies he bought for us today at the market. He didn’t manage to get everything and he had lost our list. I could almost see steam coming out of Lionel’s ears. He gave us what he had, no eggs, and promised us he would get the eggs tomorrow. It being Monday I doubted that very much as the markets and shops are all closed. We left feeling let down. That night the decision was made we were going tomorrow at 8am no matter what.

El Morra

Monday 9^th March

Excitement on Ruby Tuesday. We were going somewhere different, away from the loud music which blared morning, noon and night from the small shoreline café. Away from the smoky atmosphere caused by the chimney belching out smoke 24 hours a day.  Up and ashore to get our cruising permit from the Port Captain. First of all, we had our final fix of internet and got our eggs from Pedro but no melon or oranges. Then we saw the Port Captain and through a few hand signals and eventually translations from George we discovered there were hardly any restrictions on where we could anchor but going ashore was restricted to where there was Guardia stationed. The cruising permit was a piece of paper with a series of boxes where the Guardia stamped you in and out of each port/anchorage. It looked simple.

wall mural

At 0820 we weighed anchor and we were off. It felt good to be out on the water again. The wind was fickle, sometimes we had 20 knots other times it was 5 so progress was spasmodic. The shoreline was very mountainous but a road ran along the water’s edge. It would be a great road trip to drive along this countryside but rental cars are rare and very expensive in Cuba. Our destination today was Chivirico, a tiny fishing village with a tricky entrance. It is a bit disconcerting when you are entering an anchorage a fisherman is standing in two feet of water 20 feet from the boat but we did not balk and carried on.

Thatched cottage

We could anchor there but couldn’t go ashore. The Guardia was supposed to row out and stamp the cruising permit but we saw no official. The village was picturesque in a way, others would say it was a collection of shanty huts but everyone seemed happy enough. Roast chicken, potatoes and salad for dinner. The six tomatoes that we bought were fairly ripe so the plan is to eat them as quickly as possible, managed to get through two today and they are big. Happy captain and crew tonight, we are back on the move and NO loud music can be heard.

house by the sea

Tuesday 10^th March

A longer passage today, 48nm, and no real wind forecast. We were hoping for some wind off the hills but it didn’t happen and we watched the clouds forming over the high peaks telling us that the mountains were sucking the NE wind into themselves before it reached us. It was motor sailing most of the way but the scenery was spectacular. The Sierra Maestra mountain range is some of the highest mountains in Cuba and is where Fidel and his band of revolutionaries hid whilst plotting to overthrow the Government.

Fidel's hideout

You can visit his hideaway high up in these mountains but I think it would be a strenuous climb for the last bit, the road only goes up so far. We trailed a fishing line most of the day but with no luck. In the shadow of this mountain range there is supposed to be lots of tuna, wahoo and mahi-mahi but it looks like we will have chicken stir fry tonight.

sea view

Our destination, Marea del Portillo (Tide of the Pothole), was an easier entrance and we anchored surrounded by mangroves with a tiny fishing village tucked into one shore. The small hills on our bow looked like giant sand dunes in the afternoon light.

Sand dunes?

The only concession to the twentieth-first century was a hotel complex at the mouth of the bay which was reported to have internet coverage.

posh hotel

The cruising guide told us we had to go ashore and make ourselves known to the local Guardia which we did but got chased as we were landing. The Guardia come to us so back to the boat, dingy back on board and sundowners poured. Explanation may be needed. The Guardia is the Cuban officials’ foreign boaters have to report to everywhere there is a town. We believe, and it may be wrong, that if there is a Guardia station we are allowed to go ashore once we have checked in. If there is no Guardia stationed, we can anchor but not go ashore. That is our interpretation of the law. Eventually a young lad rowed out and came aboard, had a beer asked Lionel lots of irrelevant (well I thought they were) questions and left with our cruising permit saying we would get it back tomorrow before we left. He assured us it would be back by 0800.

beautiful garden

The bay is magnificent and we watched the setting sun with the last of our drinks. I noticed a very steep road climbing up the slope of a high mountain and Lionel (with the help of his downloaded Windy maps) confirmed it was a road but I still haven’t seen anything trying to go over that pass. Maybe it’s the horse pass. I wouldn’t want to cycle up it and I can’t see many of the vehicles we have encountered make that gradient. By now we were slightly concerned with the amount of diesel we were burning. There are a lot of shortages in Cuba and one of the most prolific ones is fuel. We might get fuel in Manzanillo, 80nm miles away but if we don’t the next fuel stop is Cienfuegos probably 200nm miles so it was a concern. Never mind, tomorrow is another day and we would worry about it then. Tonight, we were in a beautiful bay with lovely surroundings and the mozzies were starting to bite. Time to close the hatches, have dinner and sleep.

dawn

Wednesday 11^th March

George appeared with our stamped cruising permit before 0800. I felt a bit bad as he had rowed out to the boat and we had changed our minds and decided to stay for another day. He didn’t seem to mind and went away again with a happy smile.

dirt road through the village

 After breakfast we unleashed the dinghy and made to shore. The fishermen had a docking system which consisted of two poles and a dock. The idea was to tie your bow to one pole then fall back and secure the stern to the other. Simples. It took us a while to get the idea and when we were secure Lionel could not find his shoes so he motored back to Ruby where he still couldn’t find them. Lo and behold they were lying on the first dock we had tried to tie up to. Eventually we stepped ashore and George met us with a smiling face and informed us he could supply vegetables, fruit and fish if we needed it. This was a big bonus as we thought the next food stop would be Manzanillo. We explained that we were going for a walk and when we returned, we would visit him in the white house by the shore. More smiles.

Village school

Instead of taking the dinghy to the dock by the hotel we had decided to walk around the bay to get to the hotel and some internet. The walk wasn’t that long, maybe two miles, through some pretty rundown villages and isolated houses then we hit the main road, more potholes than tarmac. There was a Government run banana plantation on the way which had its own security guard and a dry river bed.

Government banana plantation

The first hotel we visited was very plush with swimming pool and tennis courts, obviously for tourists as I couldn’t see the Cubans, we had met playing tennis or swimming for recreational purposes. They had internet but we had to use the cards they had for sale and they didn’t have any left so it was on to the next hotel which was even bigger and even plusher. Lionel bought two cards and I was told to fill my boots as we didn’t think they would work anywhere else so we both had one hour of internet. What a treat. It was a nice surprise to learn the cards were still 1 CUC each. The hotel wasn’t trying to make a profit. I checked emails, Facebook and Trusted House sitters then started to post pictures onto the blog that had been posted last week. It is a very time-consuming process and when the internet was interrupted by a power cut, I almost had a fit. I hadn’t saved as a went a long and if I closed down the page all my work would be lost. We patiently waited till the power came on again and luckily Lionel had still some time left on his card and managed to save my stuff. Phew.

Main road

We strolled back to Ruby, passing a small shop, Mercado Ideal Bodegas. Thinking it may have some fresh produce we went in but the assistant told us (we think) that this was only for Cubans and he couldn’t sell us anything. There was no fresh stuff anyway. On the way back we were stopped by a woman who wanted to trade small handmade souvenirs for soap. We said no thank you. I don’t mind the people who want to trade items or have something and ask for money for it but I do object when someone just asks for money.

pigs out for a stroll

We had a stroll around the village then stopped off at Georges house where we traded a hank of serviceable rope for two red snapper fish, and tomatoes. We were also offered peppers but declined as they were the little hot ones. He seemed perfectly happy with the trade but his hopeful son not so. He had a scuba mask in his hand and I think dad was supposed to ask if we had another one for him but the sight of the rope changed his mind.

thumbing a lift

Wild Iris had arrived and we went over and invited them over for a cup of tea after they had finished with the Garda. A good catchup was had. They were heading the same way as us but making different stops so we would probably see them along the way. In the late afternoon we decided to try our hand at fishing from the dinghy so we got everything out we needed, threw it all in the boat along with a couple of beers and went out to try our luck, first of all trying in the mangroves then over in the open water where the local fishermen were. No luck but we still had the red snapper for dinner which Lionel baked along with potatoes and Puerto Rico cabbage.

school bus

Thursday 12^th March

The Garda delivered our cruising permit before 0800 as promised and we lifted anchor. As we were passing Wild Iris, they shouted that they had not been allowed to land at the village yesterday so were heading to Pilon today to have a look around. We couldn’t understand as we had no problem but the mystery would be revealed later on.

Dawn fisherman

Today was going to be another motoring day. The wind was forecast to be light and variable for most of the day but we were hoping there was going to be some land effect and we would get some sailing along this coast. We motored sail along to Cabo Cruz, the southern extent of the Golfo de Guacanayabo, and as we approached the Cabo the wind picked up and I think we sailed without motor assistance for about an hour but it died as suddenly as it appeared. Cabo Cruz was one of the anchorages we had considered for tonight but the decision was to go on to a little anchorage in Cayos Limones, approximately 10 miles further on.

 We had been trailing a fishing line for the past three days with no luck but as we approached the night’s anchorage, we got a bite. Lionel landed the fish no problems then we had a discussion about what type of fish it was. The problem is that large reef fish carry a disease that makes them poisonous to human beings so no one eats them. The most poisonous are Barracuda, large ones especially. This fish was either a barracuda or a Spanish maceral. Because we were not sure it got thrown back but after some research, I found a picture of a barracuda and it wasn’t one. Damn.

 It was an anchorage surrounded by mangroves with fishermen lurking in their rowing boats all around. A peaceful night was had but disappointingly no fish was offered to buy or swap.