Hola Familia y Amigos!
The last day at Hotel Sevilla in Habana Vieja began with our normal buffet breakfast fare (nothing to write home about), compared to our upcoming countryside repasts which were to be outstanding! We were treated to classical music performed by a youthful trio of students which is a nice way to digest one’s meal and start the day relaxed. We met up with Alex again and his driver, Miguel, in a Kia Carnival minivan and took the “freeway” (really a wide, poorly maintained, former airstrip the Russians had built back in the day) toward the southeast coast with a minimum of traffic, the most notable spectacles being horse drawn carts in the middle lanes, with a few motorized vehicles spewing billows of smoke which made them almost invisible from a distance. Non-stop it would be 3 hours to Cienfuegos, on the shores of the Caribbean Sea. We made a stop along the way at an interesting little roadside park, sipping on cappuccinos, admiring the gardens, a white Brahma bull tethered and a woman tending the banos. It turned out her son lives in Pasco, WA., spilling her tears when she learned we live in Washington State, which set off tears from Maggie and M. We then moved on to a nature reserve, where we had a nice walk around the waterways, replete with a slew of cocodrilos, several with their jaws ajar and Jicotea (turtles). A moment of humor arose when a youngster came up to Alex, tugging on his pant leg, thinking it was his father, which commenced a round of joshing him on how many children he has around the world in addition to his 11 y.o. son at home here in Cuba!! Continuing on, we ate lunch at Playa Larga’s Tiki Bahia de Cochinos, a second floor restaurant overlooking the bay, with rum, Buccanero beer, shrimp and fish for 5 CUC’s per person.
We next stopped at a cenote where locals were enjoying diving into the pool (200 meters deep) from the branch of a tree. We passed by rice drying roadside (as we had seen in Vietnam) and a string of full bags full of rice ready to be hauled away. Careened into swarms of dragon flies periodically and finally ended up in Cienfuegos (CF) at the Casa Nieves Montano on Calle 35, operated by a widow living with her son and his wife, all of them watching TV 10 feet from us while we ate a substantial home-cooked meal of black bean soup, rice, pork and chicken, a fruit tray with papayas and platanos, and a vegetable tray with tomatoes, avocados and onions. I ate so much, I had to walk in the fresh night air with Alex, along the Malecon, to recuperate. Our room was small, outside of which was an 8 foot wide open air courtyard, butted up against a neighbor’s building, sporting potted plants and the sounds of life spilling out from the neighbors’ windows. Quiet neighborhood.
The next morning, we consumed a wonderful light (fortunately for me) breakfast and, upon exiting our home stay, we were shocked as we walked out onto our small porch stoop, at 9:30 a.m., to see throngs of people hustling and bustling, neighbors on both sides having set up their entrepreneurial businesses on their equally small front porches. Alex told us this did not exist two years earlier (remember, we are writing about our 2013 experience in Cuba)…small time capitalism working its magic. In the hour before being picked up by our drive, Alex took us on a walk to Jose Marti’ Plaza, providing us with a history of CF, a city he claims as one of his favorites, with clean and colorful government buildings, gardens and other edifices, which local officials take great pride in and use “Federal” monies for the upkeep. When our car Kia arrived, we proceeded toward Trinidad, also on the southwestern shores of Cuba, a bit east of CF, stopping at the Jardin Botanico de Cienfuegos, where our passport numbers were recorded (all hotels and casa particulares did the same), causing Alex to facetiously ask if there was a “fear of ideological contamination of the plants?” After a good laugh, we proceeded (for 2.5 CUC’s each) on a guided tour of this unmanicured and wonderful preserve, with Hermes, a humorous, charismatic and knowledgeable botanist, who spoke English among other languages. This garden comprises 94 hectares (232 acres), with 300 types of palms, 28 types of bamboo, balsa trees, the clitoria flower, ebony, and elephant foot trees. Hermes pointed out a cashew tree whose fruit is eaten by the Cubans, who then throw away the nut part, which is what we know and love in the USA and is not cheap. “One man’s trash is another man’s treasure!” Nearing Trinidad, we stopped for lunch at Las Cuevas Hotel high up in the hills with a commanding view of the lowlands hosting Trinidad and the Caribbean Sea, glistening in the sunlight. After pizzas, cerveza and Cuba libres, we wound our way down into Trinidad to our next hospitality, Casa Hospedaje Jesus Fernandez, located on Vicente Suyama #34, being greeted by the owners, Jesus y Inelda, in their living room just off the street, with the sounds of children wafting in from the school located next door.
To wash the dust off of our drive, Alex took us to an unpopulated beach near Playa Ancon, where we swam in the perfect-temperatured Caribbean Sea, playing with a small sea urchin that P, our scientific expert/Ranger, had found in the waist high waters. Alex, coaxed by us, donned a bathing suit and joined us, exclaiming he had never done this with any of his customers. We took it as an honor of the highest order. After basking in the sunset on the horizon, we went to eat at Terraza Colonial, on their rooftop restaurant, dining on huachinango, pulpo, camarrones, and the best shrimp cocktail ever, Cuba libres, sangria and cervezas, all the while being serenaded by a 6 piece band which included a female flautist/singer. The bill for the 5 of us, only 70 CUC’s!!! After 90 minutes, our band was through and was replaced by music drifting up from the ground floor of the next door restaurant, hardly missing a beat! It didn’t end at our restaurant though. Meandering through the cobble-stoned streets, we came across music spilling out of the Casa de Musica, 20 steps above us, with scores of locals sitting on them, a bright light affixed from across the street highlighting this electric, high energy scene. This is a Monday night, 10:00 p.m.! Alex said every night is like this…”it is the Cuban way”. We kept on moving until we sat down at the Casa de la Trova for an hour or so, seated in front of the dance space which was no bigger than 12 x 20 feet, the floor jammed with Salsa and Cha Cha dancers, some being male instructors (“facilitators” as Alex called them) so solo women can have a safe dance partner. The dance floor was between us and the entry to la Trova, which added to the ambience. The evening ended back at our casa particular, on the terrace, looking at the moon, a nearby church steeple silhouetted against the sky. What magic!
Our next two days in Trinidad we were treated to the best food of the trip. The days would start with a breakfast consisting of a large fruit plate, freshly squeezed pina and mango juice, vegetable omelets and strong coffee, followed by gazing through the barred windows in the living room, out at the street, observing the work day unfold, horse drawn carts streaming by with the heavy clopping sound of their hooves on the large stone-cobbled street. Then, touring Old Trinidad with Alex, founded in 1514 and readying itself for its 500th anniversary, madly restoring key edifices. We ventured inside a simple local church, the Templo Yemalla (goddess of the sea) where a Santeria priest was sharing the history of the nature-based spiritual practice via a bi-lingual Cuban tour guide and her flock sitting on benches with rapt attention. In one room we came across a bizarre sight that stuck with us the rest of the day…shades of Voodoo. We encountered across street musicians, and paladars (private Homestyle food venues). We tried our hand snorkeling at La Boca and but 15 minutes into it, a rolling clap of thunder erupted, sounding like a string of very large firecrackers, followed by lightning and rain. Later in the day, we tried a signature drink at La Canchachara, the “grandfather” to the mojito, which was a mix of ice (hielo), honey (miel), lemon (limon) and aquadiente (moonshine, the ingredient for rum prior to aging in casks).
We did manage to get into the nearby countryside, coming across a baseball stadium and eventually visiting the Valle de Ingenios, where sugar mills reigned many years ago. The verdant valleys and hills reminding us of Kauai. Close by was Manaca Iznaga and a notable landmark in the 45.5 meter high Torre Vigia (tower). We climbed the 136 stairs to the top with an incredible view of the area, espying old abandoned-looking railroad cars and a bare-chested cowboy on horseback herding a few head of cattle. He was in contrast to one on the streets of Trinidad who was wearing rhinestone jeans, a black short jacket, Stetson and fancy silver spurs! Before we left Manaca, I took a turn at the old slave-driven sugar cane press with a wooden blade spanning 15 feet that was pushed by men on each of the two radii. Our last dinner on this getaway from Habana was near Playa Ancon where we had swum before, in the former port of Casilda Town, now mainly a haven for fisherman. Before dining at La Marinera, we once again enjoyed the Caribbean waters, laughing as the rain came in, other folks fleeing the beach quickly (must not be from Seattle). The five of us enjoyed the seafood plate of lobster, fish and shrimp. Couldn’t get much better, Bon Apetit!!
We will end this last dispatch, driving back to Habana via Santa Clara, the site of the last, and decisive, battle (1958) of the Cuban Revolution against the regime of Fulgencio Batista, which was led by Ernesto “Che” Guevara. We took a shortcut through the mountains (more like hills), vultures soaring over this lush and rustic picture of agricultural Cuba. We moved through the small towns along the way, attending to more carts being drawn by one or two horses or donkeys, carrying goods and pasajeros (as many as 8 at a time). We finally reached our target, the Mausoleo Che Guevera in Santa Clara, where Che’s exhumed remains have been interred, being transferred in 1997 from the site of his death in Bolivia in 1967. Next to this mausoleum, we toured a museum, replete with an eternal flame and a laser with a star lighting the wall above a carved face of Che. No photography was allowed, so no visuals here, unfortunately. You’ll just have to trust that we were there.
Neighboring walls bore emblazoned names and countenance likenesses of key figures in the revolution, including a number of women, like Tania and Hermes. We spent an hour reading various manuscripts under glass, viewing military hardware, other articles used during the rebellion and personal articles of Guevara’s, e.g. old photos of his time in Guatemala, his farewell letter to Fidel, Che consulting with comrades in the battlefields and in the mountains on horseback, or in his role as Minister of Industry after 1958. Along with finding the statue in Habana where Kay had been photographed, this homage to Ernesto “Che” Guevara was a highlight for me, having read his 1961 book, “Che Guevara Guerrilla Warfare” in the 60’s, during my more rebellious years.
A tender moment occurred on the way back to Habana, along the wide highway, when, suddenly, Miguel stopped the car, jumped out and starting walking away from us. He had espied his dad, sitting in the median, conversing with a crony of his and went over to him, hugging him and bringing him back to our car to be introduced. This was the epitome of life in Cuba. Family! We bid you farewell at this point. We now begin our next adventure which we will report out on soon. Colombia, South America.
Sus amigos, Stan y Maggie