Friday 28th February 2020
Well, we are here, arrived at 0630 Cuban time after a
four-day passage, two of which were great sailing, one was OK and one was
wasting time so we could have a day light arrival but Lionel will write about
all that technical stuff. Me, I am beyond ecstatic to be in Cuba. I have dreamt
about visiting this country since I was a little girl and at last, I am here.
Coming through the headland into the bay that is Punta Gorda was like entering
a small Spanish harbour with a huge Spanish/Moorish castle on starboard and a
small sprawling village made up of shacks and one or two larger more opulent
houses on the port.
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| El Morro |
The clearing in process took four hours from the first
visitor, the doctor, to the last, customs. It was very quick and easy compared
to what we had been led to expect. The doctor sat at the salon table, asked
lots of questions and didn’t even look in our fridge, which I had scrubbed for
the occasion. Next was a visit to immigration office where the officer was more
concerned about learning the correct English phrases for his job. The highlight
of the whole process was our lecture from George, the Dock Master. Very
entertaining. He first informed me that although he was very handsome, he was happily
married and didn’t play away from home so alas we could only be friends. Some
of the information was straight out the cruising book but other stuff might
prove useful further down the line. Lastly, customs boarded the boat, asked
some questions had a quick glance around the salon and left with one of our
little presents tucked discretely in their pockets. We had made up little bags
with a bar of soap, a box of Aspirin and a pen to give to each of the
officials. Not much to our standards but by the look on their faces it was
enough. The lady customs officer got quite upset when she realised, she had no
pockets in her short skirt and tight shirt. She tucked the pen down her
cleavage and sadly handed back the soap and Aspirin but her companion stowed them
in his already bulging pockets and they both left with big smiles.
After a ten-minute sit down, we left the dock and anchored
in the designated anchor area. Something we are going to have to get used to,
we can only anchor where the officials tell us to. Their country, their rules.
As we were anchoring Jane and Richard from Zwailer, another OCC boat came over
from the dingy dock to say hello and we invited them for a cup of tea and one
of our hoarded oatmeal cookies. They had arrived three days ago from Jamaica so
we got the low down on the city and how most of the time you stand in queues.
We invited them back for sundowners in the evening. At last, sleep. Having not
slept since ten o’clock the night before, I was exhausted but I woke up about
an hour later full of beans.
We decided
to tidy up, have lunch and then have a walk ashore just to stretch our legs.
Although this port is called Santiago de Cuba the city is about ten miles away
and the actual port is a sleepy little village called Punta Gorda (it is
important not to forget the ‘n’ in Punta when giving directions to taxi
drivers, otherwise you may find yourself with a fat prostitute). There is not
much here – marina, very small shop, restaurants and cafes (with very loud
music blasting out), hotel and Pedro and Rosa whom we met as we walked out the
marina. Our first encounter with professional hustlers, very nice hustlers, but
hustlers all the same. I agreed to bring the laundry over either Monday or
Tuesday and Li agreed to let Pedro fill our cooking gas cylinders but other
than that I think we got away pretty much unscathed. He offered us seven
bottles of rum for fifty dollars but after Li had a taste we declined. I think
paint stripper was mentioned. We took a stroll around the lower half of the village
and found the things we needed to, the bus stop, (no regular buses), the ferry
dock, (easiest and cheapest way to get to the city), the hotel (internet
access), and the way back to the marina.
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| The Marina |
Back to Ruby for some more sleep, Li, and for me to finish
“The Old Man and the Sea” which was a short but most enjoyable read. I had
another read of the information we had about the big city then it was time to
do some socialising. What an enjoyable couple of hours we had talking with a
lovely couple. Richard had also been in the Merchant Navy so the boys had a
good gossip about their experience and Jane and I talked about family and some
of our experiences in different countries. They have kept their house in
Cornwall but did sympathise with our problem of moving back to dry land and
deciding where to make our home. After living on Ruby for almost five years it
is not an easy concept to live in one place and not be constantly moving but
I’m sure we will resolve it eventually.
Dinner was a bucket omelette, exactly what we needed and
back to reading the cruising guide. My eyes eventually got weary about nine
o’clock and bed beckoned. Night.
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| First sunrise in Cuba |
Saturday 29th February
Up with the dawn and a very grey cloudy dawn it was. Our
first full day in Cuba and the decision was we would take the midday ferry to
the “big city” and get the six o’clock one back. After breakfast I did a reccie
of all electronics on the boat and gathered them together in one place. Between
us we worked out what we needed to keep and what we could give away or barter.
Sometimes it is very difficult to persuade Lionel to throw things away. “You
never know when it might be useful” but I was ruthless this time and we ended
up with a substantial amount of leads, plugs and wires and various electronic
gadgets which might be useful to some enterprising Cuban.
Our first trip of the day was to take empty gas cylinders to
Pedro to get filled. He asked for 20 dollars (equivalent) up front. We thought
it would be no problem because his and Rosas reputation relies on us cruisers
spreading the word and one negative goes a long way in our community. We also
swopped two knackered mobile phones for two bottles of his best rum, which were
slightly better than yesterday’s samples but not much. I think our rum
purchases will be made in official shops. The cost may be ten times what it is
on the black market but we won’t get stomach rot.
Back to the boat, cup of tea and a sit down and one last
read of the guide book then it was time to go for the ferry. The crew of
another boat had the same idea and we learnt that they had come from Jamaica
and were on a two-week paying cruise to Cienfuegos. Most of them were
experienced sailors who either did not have their own boat or wanted to
experience a different sailing area. Some interesting people and stories. The
ferry took us past the belching chimneys of the cement works and onwards to
Santiago.
first glimpse of Santiago
This is a city of one million people, poor people even in comparison
to the rest of Cuba. We expected beggars, hustlers, people in rags. We got a
clean if not spotless city full of happy smiling people, dressed up in their
weekend best having a good day off. Yes, there were some jineteros (hustlers;
literally jockeys) but they were happy to leave you alone when you said a firm
no.
We eventually found Parque Cespedes and got our bearings.
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| Central Square |
The maps in the cruising guide do not show where the ferry docks and GPS is not
allowed to be used on land so a good up to date map is essential when
navigating the streets and, guess what, we didn’t have one. A young man
recognised us from the marina. We must have been looking pretty lost as he came
to our rescue and directed us to the downstairs bar of the Grand Hotel where we
got ten cards which enabled connection to the internet, the only way to
connect. There are very few places where tourists can connect and the Grand
Hotel is one, the Parque Cespedes is another. The cards were a dollar a time
and gave one hour on the internet. It didn’t matter how much was downloaded, it
was done by time. We had been advised to only buy the hourly ones as it was
difficult to log out. You may think you have logged out but the time is still
running and to lose a few minutes is no great deal but to lose a couple of
hours would be irritating. Next Lionel wanted to get Cuban money. We eventually
found a Cadeca, an official money changing house but their system was down and
Lionel needed to find a bank, withdraw money then go back to the Cadeca and
exchange CUCs for CUPs. Quick explanation of the Cuban money system. CUCs which
I will call International money is the tourist money which is equivalent to 1
dollar. CUPs which I will call local money is equivalent to 4 cents. Confused?
I was and spent the rest of the afternoon asking Lionel how much everything
cost but now I think I’ve got it. All the official business done we stopped at
a street vendor and ordered fried chicken which came with what we thought might
be plantain but tasted more like potato. Everything was fried so not healthy
although the locals looked healthy enough to me. So, lunch cost 30 CUP, 1.20
dollars and that was with a glass of oysters in lemon and tabaco sauce for
Lionel as well. Well-greased up, we headed back to the Grand Hotel and spent a
very pleasant hour on their roof top terrace with a bottle of local beer – 3
dollars each – Lionel surfing the net and catching up with news, me becoming
more and more frustrated when I couldn’t connect to the internet and eventually
taking lots of pictures of the incredible views over the city.
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| Cathedral |
Now we decided to do the tourist bit and wander around the
streets and try to find the street they block off at the weekend and it turns
into a huge party Cuban style. We popped into some mercados to see what in the
food line we could buy and not buy. Things didn’t look as dire as we were led
to believe and we now knew it cost pennies to eat out so our worst fear was
abated. Eventually we found the “party” square, full of hot food stalls, bread
stalls, biscuit stalls and some selling yogurt and cheese. As we wandered
around the square got busier and the queues got longer but still people smiled
and laughed looking as if they had not a care in the world. At the far end were
huge barbeque grills set up with whole pigs roasting on a spit.
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| Party food |
It smelt
delicious and we asked one of the chefs how much a portion cost. He was just
the cook and we had to go to a stall to buy. There were also quarter chickens
being cooked.
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| Ii you don't want pig try chicken |
On one of the stalls I watched as a large slice of belly pork
with crackling was placed in a cardboard container. I decided that was what I
wanted for dinner and joined a messy queue but by the time it got to almost my
turn all that was left seemed to be feet and head so I gave up.
Lionel spotted
a stall which was selling deep fried dough called churros so we bought one
portion which we shared. The stall holder sprinkled it with sugar before he
handed it over, delicious and it was 20 cents. We had spent so much time
wandering we had reached the top of the hill and had to hurry back down to port
to catch the ferry back to the marina. On the way we found the agro market
where fresh fruit, veg and eggs could be bought. Knowing we were short in time
we noted where it was and hurried on. Coming to the main street we used the
pedestrian crossing which the traffic ignored and aimed at the piece of road
that had no people on it. Children had make shift scooters which were two bits
of wood nailed together with what looked like sofa wheels. They made a
fantastic noise on the tarmac. Boarding the ferry, we had a quick look around
to make sure the other crew were there, phew we were on the correct one. At the
marina Lionel went to collect the gas but Pedro was not back yet from the big
city, a little worrying, what was he doing with our cash?
Reflections of our first urban adventure in Cuba, nothing
like what we expected and what a place!
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| His image is everywhere |
Sunday 1st March
Another day, another adventure. This morning was sunnier
than usual and we decided to explore Cayo Granma, a tiny island in the entrance
of the lagoon.
Granma Island
There was a little local ferry which buzzed around the lagoon
dropping people off at various places along the way. We couldn’t work out the
schedule of it or maybe there was no schedule and like Caribbean buses it
waited till there was enough people at the stop to make it financially worthwhile
then went to pick them up. Who knows? We asked at the marina office and was
told they ran a tourist catamaran over on demand so we asked to be taken over
at 1230 after we had visited to the hotel to do some internet things. The hotel
just outside of the marina is the internet connection for this area. I felt
very conspicuous, sitting on their terrace, using their internet connection and
not contributing towards their profits but the staff seemed not to mind so we
carried on. I felt slightly better when Jane and Richard came in and suggested
drinks at the hotel in the evening. We thought this was a fine idea, party
animals are us.
We, well I had spoken about doing some land travel when we
were here. Lionel started looking up timetables to Baracoa, the eastern most
city in Cuba. It looked pretty straight forward, a ferry ride into Santiago, a
taxi to the bus terminal and then a five-hour bus trip to Baracoa so we decided
to go on a BIG adventure and he booked the tickets. I always thought I was an
internet junkie but after I checked my emails, had a look at Facebook and liked
a few pictures and had a quick scan through the house sits on Trusted House
siters I was bored and had a wander around the hotel grounds. Very nice. Once
Lionel had finished the somewhat lengthy process of booking the tickets, he
took a stroll to Pedro’s house to collect the filled gas bottles. He returned
empty handed. Seems you don’t rush an entrepreneur in Cuba.
The ferry trip over to Cayo Granma took several minutes. The
cruising guide said it was free but it also said nothing was free in Cuba which
we found out was correct, 10 CUC for the return trip. The bay is ideal for
exploring with the dinghy, lovely wooded shores and small isolated clusters of
houses but the only place you are allowed to land your dingy is at the marina.
Some people even got told to move their boat, which was at anchor, because the
marina staff could not see it. They are not concerned about what you may get up
to, the authorities are concerned about the Cubans escaping. Travel is very
restricted for the locals. Cayo Granma is a tiny island of several fishermen
and their families. Several years ago, Hurricane Sandy hit this area hard and
the devastation can still be seen. The ferry docks at a three-story house that
is run as a Paladar which is basically a restaurant run in a family house. We
decided to have a walk around the island first and then think about eating. It
was lovely and peaceful, people sitting on their doorsteps or verandas watching
the Sunday pedestrians go by.
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| Typical street on Granma |
Children running about the pedestrian streets and
a couple of hustlers telling us we must eat in their Paladars. We strolled on.
Some children will half-heartedly ask for money or pens but took a shake of the
head as a definite no. We stopped at a stall selling tomatoes, peppers and
onions and picked up a couple of tomatoes and a green pepper which upset the
stall owner. She had the very nicely displayed in little bundles which we
eventually understood meant that each bundle cost 10CUP. We tried to explain we
only wanted what we had indicated and handed her a 10CUP note. I think she was
quite happy with the money but was a bit upset about her lovely display. We
strolled on and our next circuit picked a Paladar with roof top seating. The
meal was lovely, fresh prawns in garlic butter for me, some sort of grilled
fish for Li with bowls of rice and salad served between us and of course the
usual deep-fried plantain instead of potato. The beer was cold, the food was
excellent and the view was divine. Not bad for a Sunday afternoon.
In the evening we had a good catch up with Jane and Richard
at the hotel bar. A note. I think I encountered the first grumpy person here, a
bar waitress who seemed to take umbridge at our table after I asked for a glass
for Lionel’s beer or it could be that I asked for the loud music to be turned
down, who knows. The other three boats had been invited to a meal at Rosa’s
house. We will try to catch up with them before they leave.
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| Hopeful fisherman |
Monday 2nd March
Up with the larks again, breakfast and a fight with the
Iridium to try and get some BBC news. One of us had to be on watch. We were
going over to the castle by local ferry this morning with Jane and Richard but
no one knew the timetable.
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| Entrance to fort |
Richard eventually came over and reported he thought
it went at 0930 from our stop. Just enough time to cut Lionel’s hair. Well, I
say cut I should say shave. Not bad a job this time if you ignored the mess
behind one ear. Ok, time to go. Of course, we would be early but there is
always someone to have a chat with or in my case use sign language. The ferry
journey took about ten minutes and we were deposited at the other side of the
bay beside a large flight of steps. Up we went and had a slow uphill walk to
the lighthouse and castle.
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| Inside the fort |
The castle is called El Morra and is a smaller version of
the two forts in San Juan. It even has the unique look outs that only the San
Juan forts have!! The drive up to it is lovely but lined with tourist trap
shops.
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| Pathway to the fort |
We all decided we would go at our pace round it. I knew for certain I
was not going down to the bottom level as the climb back up would probably kill
me. I have lost some weight and feel fitter but not that much. All the
information was in Spanish but I got the jist of it. I did discover that
Alexander Selkirk (author of Robinson Crusoe) was a pirate. He displeased his
Captain somehow and got left on an island by himself, hence how the book was
born. Us Fifers have always been a bad lot.
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| Alexander Selkirk |
There were many exhibitions in
various rooms, all in Spanish. One was about the political prisoners who were
locked up in the castle after the Spanish/American war. Another was about the
USA attacking the bay during that war and what happened to each ship involved.
There was a map and legend of the tracks of the ships. The legend had a symbol
for a sunk USA ship but I couldn’t find one on the map. Wishful thinking maybe.
The Governors of the Castle were listed on a plaque one of them had a surname O
‘Reilly. Those Irish get everywhere.
Having not eaten much on board for the past two days and
knowing we were going away tomorrow we elected to return to Ruby to have lunch
so a taxi was negotiated. Nothing is simple in this country. Everything has a
price but it depends how hard you can barter how low that price is. We
eventually got into a yellow Peugeot 404, more filler than car. As we were
going downhill, round a sharp bend, Richard’s door flew open. The driver leant
out his window and closed it for him only slowly down slightly. After that I
hung on tight.
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| Big yellow taxi |
Lionel at last managed to pin down Pedro and we got our filled
gas cylinders but one was leaking. It was not surprise as it had been sitting
in the gas locker without a protective cap on the valve. Back at the marina we
said our goodbyes. They are probably leaving on Wednesday, before we get back
from our epic trip. We will probably meet again further east along the coast.
Back to Ruby, dinghy back on board, and the anchor raised. We were putting her
on the dock while we were away. Slightly more expensive but worth it for peace of
mind. We got her settled, had lunch then Lionel spent a frustrating couple of
hours hooking up the electrics, eventually succeeding so our batteries will be
well and truly charged by the time we get back on Thursday evening. He then
fiddled with gas bottles and regulators. I went and played on the internet for
an hour, applying for a house sit in Nova Scotia for the month of June, no pets
and the use of a car thrown in. Fingers crossed.
Sundowners, dinner, some packing and an earlyish night. The
BIG adventure tomorrow.
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| View from the fort |
Tuesday 3rd March
Up at 0515, breakfast then final packing. Lionel found the
key for the companion way so Ruby was safely locked up and we headed for the
ferry. The duty Port Captain wished us a good journey and so the BIG adventure
begun. We are not very good tourists so this was going to be an experiment on
how we get on with land travel. A very small experiment, only two days but you
have to start somewhere. Here we come Baracoa.
The ferry deposited us at the dock and we had a 15-minute
walk past the train station to the bus station, one of many in Santiago.
Eventually we found the correct building and Lionel got our tickets and a drink
of fizzy pop (no water) with some ham rolls – the kiosk had no change so gave
him some food instead. You’ve got to love Cuba. In the waiting room I started
to talk to a couple from Newcastle, very negative about the whole Cuban
experience even though they had travelled extensively in this region of the
world they seemed to be surprised at the shortages of stuff and how hard it was
to get stuff. I was my usual sunny self which seemed to annoy them even more.
Now, when you get on a bus, you look for an empty seat and sit down, maybe
stowing your bag in the overhead rack. Not in Cuba. First of all, you have to
book in large luggage then you have to show ID and a ticket to get on the bus.
Different but not complicated. Now comes the surprising part. Did you know that
not all buses have the same number of rows of seats on either side? Neither did
I. You count the rows of seats and choose the side with the lesser number, more
space, then, before you sit down you make sure the seats you have chosen stay
upright and recline properly. No, not finished yet. Next you check the seats in
front stay upright and recline, leaving them in the upright position so who
ever sits there gets the message (ha ha ha). Now sit down after you have stowed
away excess luggage in the overhead bins. Oh, I forgot to mention make sure you
are as far from the toilet as possible and as near to the air conditioning
unit, the windows will probably not open. Finished and relax and hope someone
doesn’t plonk themselves in the seat in front of you and recline it as far back
as they can without a thought for you. It happens and we watched as a rather tall
man tried to manoeuvre his knees more comfortably round the inconsiderate
person in front. He eventually spent the journey with his legs wide open, one
in the aisle and the other in his travel companions’ space.
The journey was long, five and a half hours, with two
comfort breaks. The flight across the Atlantic takes about the same time. Cuban
efficiency didn’t work this time, we were 13 minutes late but seemed to make up
time on the way. The journey was uneventful, motoring through the city then along
what looked like fertile farmland with a stop in the town of Guantanamo
Bay.
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| View from the bus |
It then followed the coast until
the bus started to climb up the steep hills. At one point we thought we would
have to get out and push it was labouring so much. The last couple of hours
were spectacular, driving up and down mountain passes. There were even pack
horses carrying huge loads along the road, what century are we in? Eventually
we arrived in Baracoa, the eastern most city in Cuba.
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| Town view |
It is on the North coast
and the only way sailors can visit it is by travelling there by land as they
are not allowed to stop here. It was isolated from the rest of Cuba until the
70s when the road was built over the Sierra del Purial so it is somewhat
different from the rest of Cuba – very few cars, lots of small motor bikes,
bicycle taxis and horse drawn buses.
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| Bus Cuban style |
The roads in the centre of town are all
paved but as you get further out there are dirt roads and of course with the
overnight rain they turned into mud. The houses also degenerate the further you
get from the centre until they look more like hen shacks. But the Cuban’s are a
proud race and they women are still out every morning brushing the fallen
leaves away from their door and around their house.
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| dirt street but well kept garden |
We had not booked anywhere to stay, we both agreed that we
would look for a pretty Casa Particular and inquire the price when we got
there. We walked towards the Cathedral thinking (correctly) that would be the
centre of town. As we approached the plaza, we kept our eyes open for likely looking
boarding houses. We did a circuit of the middle of town and picked out three
likely looking places. A Casa Particular is recognised by the upside-down blue
anchor posted outside. I wanted somewhere with a terrace that we could sit
outside of an evening and have our sundowners. 25CUC per night was our limit
and hopefully breakfast might be an extra 5CUC each. WE landed lucky. The first
Casa we tried was the exact price. Surprisingly it was two rooms with a
bathroom with shower and large roof terrace.
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| Casa particular, shower rtoom pink! |
The first room had been a kitchen
and there was a fridge freezer still there – cold drinks. The water ran, the
shower worked and the toilet flushed all good so we had what we would call bed
and breakfast for two days at a cost of 60 CUC. One thing that was missing was
an electric kettle but our host brought some boiled water in a thermos flask
and we had a nice cup of tea on the roof terrace before we went and had a look
around the town.
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| our roof top view |
In the Cathedral Plaza the tourist internet worked and the
ETESCA office was right there so Lionel bought some more internet cards and
managed to download the Lonely Planet guide to Cuba which we never thought to
buy. We had a wander around and found a mercado which sold reasonably priced
rum and fruit juice we recognised. There seemed to be a shortage of beer and
water but who needs these commodities when rum is in abundance. Back to Casa
Alba to have a sit down and a little drink. Lionel had asked our host to
recommend somewhere we could eat in the evening. Some Casa Particulars serve
evening meals as well but Casa Alba didn’t but he did tell us of a good
restaurant quite near that served good Cuban food. We did the whole sundowner
thing on the roof terrace with rum cocktails and some radio. The bugs were
biting and it looked like rain so earlier than normal we headed out for our
evening meal. It was good, Lionel had lobster, I had grilled shrimp, pork and
chicken all served with rice and salad. The starter was a hot salad which was
very good and for pudding Lionel had egg custard and I had ice cream which was
made out of coconut milk, yummy. Dairy milk is rare and expensive here but
coconuts are plentiful so it makes sense to make ice cream this way. Back to
our digs and straight to bed. It had been a very long day.
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| very good resturant |
Wednesday 4th March
We had asked our hosts to serve breakfast at 0700 and what a
breakfast it was. Coffee and bowls of fruit appeared on the table and Lionel
looked disappointed at the spread then, the host arrived with a plate of
omelette, cucumbers and tomatoes and a jug of fruit juice which looked more
like smoothie than traditional juice. For someone who usually has coffee, a
breakfast bar and a small glass of fruit juice this was a feast and I knew I
wouldn’t be looking for much for my lunch. We had agreed the night before that
a walk to the far side of the bay and have a look around Parque Natural
Majayara, some of which belongs to the Fuentes who will take you a tour of
their plantation and grounds for “a small fee”. There was also a swimming
opportunity at Playa Blanca so we packed our swimmers, water, camera and
sunnies for a stroll through some nice countryside.
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| Fighting cocks |
The idea was that after a
short rest we would spend the rest of the day going around one of the many
museums in the centre of town. Little did we know. The walk to the Park was
about 3 km and most of it was along the town beach which was covered in black
sand making us think this was a volcanic area. We found out later it wasn’t,
the black sand was just a quirk of nature.
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| Bridge over the river |
We crossed a narrow bridge and
walked through a typical Cuban village of wooden houses on a dirt track road.
Transport was made up of bikes, horses and one cart drawn by two ox and of
course legs, young and old walked everywhere.
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| postman |
On reaching the gate house we
enquired how much it cost to have a wander around without a guide. This was not
possible and a guide who spoke some English was found and we were in his tender
care for the next three hours. He spoke some English, was learning German and
of course was a fluent Spanish speaker so we did understand most of what he was
telling us. It turned out he was third generation Fuentes family and told us
his name which ended in Junior so, you guessed, he was christened Junior for
the walk.
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| Part of the guided walk |
The walk was very good but long, across various terrains. I
gave the ledge walk a miss but Lionel went up with him and reported it was
spectacular but almost at his limits.
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| Lionel and Junior on the walkway |
Junior was a pharmacist so spoke about
the healing properties of the plants we saw and how his family tried to keep
the plantation as organic as possible, using coconuts as fertilizers and
propagating their own young plants in certain places on the land. The rock
formations were spectacular and the plants varied.
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| large crack in the rock |
To get to the Cueva de Aguas
the walk was on a traditional native path which the Teina Indians used to get
from their homes to the sea. The freshwater pool was at the bottom of a dank
and dingy cave with very slippery rocks around it. Lionel declined the
opportunity to swim.
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| old Teina path |
Next there was a climb up they cliff to a lookout which gave
spectacular views over the land and sea. The climb or in my case scramble was
hair raising but I managed it … just.
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| view from the top |
A coffee break was called for and why not
at a small clearing where another farmer lived. A small glass of locally
produced coffee was produced with some fruit. The coffee was good and I had a
second glass. It tasted as if there was chocolate in it but the farmer said no.
We bought some coffee from him and he threw in three small sachets of saffron.
In his back yard he had a pen of hutoa which we were told was good eating and
of course the usual pigs, hens and goats wandering around. All the for the pot
eventually.
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| dinner |
After our break we had the long walk back to the start which was
mostly along dirt track roads meeting people on bikes and on foot going the
other way. March must be tomato season as there seemed to abundance of them.
They taste delicious, a taste straight from my childhood. I was slowing down
now but Junior kept on striding on seemingly desperate to get home to his
German wife and 11-year-old son. School was out and the children were racing
back home to do whatever Cuban children get up to in the evening. School start
at 0800 so they get out just after lunch. The uniforms are neat and colourful
and the children seem happy enough to go.
We thanked Junior for his time and discreetly gave him a
small tip. Lionel wanted to have a swim so we made our way back down to Playa
Blanca but were disappointed as the beautiful bathing beach was about 50 foot
of sand between two rock shelves making the water very rough. He decided
against it and we made our way back to the small house where refreshments could
be bought. We both had a cold Cristal beer. The locals sitting on the porch
were surprised they had beer as it couldn’t be got for love or money in
Baracoa. The owner explained her sister brought it for her from Santiago de
Cuba – sisterly love at its best.
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| Interesting rock formation |
The walk back was made slightly more bearable
with the beer but I still longed for a shower and lie down and that’s exactly
what I did when we got back to Casa Alba. Shower, lie down and sleep for an
hour, waking up feeling slightly more refreshed but stiff. Our 6 km stroll had
turned into a six-hour hike. We were going nowhere this afternoon. Lionel went
down to the Plaza to check emails. He came back with good news – he had won
£100 on his premium bonds and the Nova Scotia sit had replied and we were still
in the running. We celebrated with a cup of tea. A quiet sit on the roof
terrace with some rum cocktails and radio then we headed out to find somewhere
for our evening meal.
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| Black sand |
As we walked towards the centre, we passed a bar which
had a group playing Cuban music. We went in and listened for three or four
songs. The music was good but the singer was not the best so we left and went
in search of food finding it in a cheap and cheerful restaurant. The portions
were half the size of the night before (so was the price) but the quality was
still good. Back to the Casa, a half hour read and off to bed before 9pm. This
tourist thing is very tiring.
Thursday 5th March
We would catch the bus at 2pm back to Santiago de Cuba so
today was going to be a pretty relaxed morning, followed by a lunch then a five
hour journey back to Ruby. Breakfast at 7 set us up for the day and by 8pm we
had climbed up a huge flight of stairs and were wandering around the top level
of the city looking for Las Cuevas del Paraiso is a series of caves that were
once Taino burial chambers.
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| burial chamber |
The Taino were the native Indians who lived in Cuba
before the white man settled here. They had come from South America 600 AD
(approx.) in their dug-out canoes. An enterprising race but fierce. They built
huge wooden structures that housed one hundred people and worshipped many Gods,
that represented important aspects of their lives. The caves were impressive
and the artefacts that were discovered displayed in glass cabinets. The view
from the top lookout was right across town. Of course, there was artists
impressions and models of what life would be like.
 |
| view from the top of the town |
While we were up in this section of town, we met the first
Cuban who actually voiced some dissent with life. The Government had made him
change his job and he was not happy with them. Then he started on taxes and how
there was no incentive to work as the Government took .92% of what you produced
and left you with a very small wage and the 8% of your hard work. He was not a
happy man but as we try not to comment on the politics of any of the countries
we visit while we are there we just shut up and listened. This section of the
town was definitely far poorer than the rest we had seen. Some of the wooden
shacks the farmers in Scotland wouldn’t have kept their hens in.
 |
| this is not a hen hut |
But still
there were well kept gardens and people out brushing their paths. We passed a
Pan Cubna where the waiting queue seemed happy enough, gossiping away to their
neighbours as they waited for their daily bread. Next, we decided to go to the
Cathedral and have a look round. We saw the Holy Cross, (Cruz de la Parra) that
Columbus was supposed to have brought ashore when he first landed here in 1492.
It is the only survivor of 29 crosses he erected in Cuba. It doesn’t mater that
the cross is made of indigenous Cuban wood which disproves the legend that
Columbus brought the cross from Europe.
 |
town view
|
The Catedral de Nuestra Senora de la Asuncion
has been restored to its former glory using mostly Italian money. There has
been a building on the site since the 16
th century but this
cathedral was built round 1833. Outside the Cathedral there is a bust of
Hatuey, a Tiano chief who rebelled against the Christians. He refused to
convert to Catholicism and was burnt at the stake in 1512.
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| Hatuey |
The last stop of the morning was the chocolate shop/museum
which was a big disappointment. Yes, we drank a cup of hot chocolate in lovely
surroundings looking at pictures on the walls but there was no real museum and
there was no place to buy Baracoa chocolate. What a rip off. We would have to
get our chocolate from the street halkers. Back to the Casa for a quick shower
and pack our belongings back up. Lionel had a nap and I read some of my book.
We reluctantly left at 1230 knowing we had only seen and done a fraction of
what there is to do in this Cuban town and its surroundings. They are very
proud of how Eco friendly they are and there are day tours into the mountains
and valleys that get fantastic write ups.
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| Taxi, Cuban style |
However, Cuban is a huge country and
we only have limited time so onwards. Lunch was a pizza, of sorts in a small
café washed down with a Heineken beer and off to the bus station, buying
chocolate on our way, where we boarded the correct bus
had our five-hour return journey to Santiago
de Cuba, the highlight of which was when a child was sick two rows down from
us. I don’t blame him. The road was very twisty and up and down and the driver
took no prisoners.
Back in Santiago de Cuba we found a taxi rank and negotiated
a fare back to Punta Gorda. It was a lovingly restored Plymouth this time. I
made sure the door was well and truly closed. It was good to see Ruby again,
intact but now covered in faint yellow spots. We had been warned about them. A
by-product from one of the local factories which belched out black smoke every
so often. A cleaning job for after we move to the next anchorage.
That’s been a week we have been here and my first
impressions have been wonderment. In some ways they are so backward but in
others they are resourceful and clever people. Lionel has taken to calling it
an Alice in Wonderland economy. Some things are unbelievably cheap but there is
always something that takes you by surprise how expensive it is. Nothing is
what it seems to be. One down, eight to go and I cannot wait.
