A Country of Rum and Cigars
08.02.2017 - 19.02.2017
The first thing you tend to come across when you visit a country, are customs. In one place they’ll take a bored glance at your passport, in the other they’ll measure your temperature with a laser on your forehead. As you might guess, Cuba belongs to the second category. We had to stand in line, and have our temperature taken by a doctor with a white jacket and a clipboard firmly in his left hand. Next we had to walk twenty metres to the office in pairs, where they made a photo and placed a stamp in your passport with a swift press. Next came the officers, who inspected the ship, followed by a drug dog. Luckily, she didn’t find the cocaine (jk).
As soon as we could, I darted off to bed. I woke up a few hours later, and saw that we’d docked in a canal, with apartments on one side and a parking place on the other. It was weird to be on land with just one step after having anchored for so long. No more anchor watch, hardly any movement. We soon found out that there were cheap tubs of ice cream down the road, and planned trips there. The first old car was spotted, parked right next to the ship. School that day, and the next. The groups for our second own journey were announced at the last moment. This time there were only four, with a 30$ a person a day budget. My group included Emília, Jeroen, Giulia, Sophie, Thibault, Lennard and Lika, with Frank as our babysitter.
On the 10th of February we got up around six thirty, had breakfast and waited while a few people changed our group money to the CUC, the tourist currency. Tourists aren’t supposed to have pesos, for some reason.
We finally left at nine. There were tears, as this was the last time we’d see Jet, and some of us had a strong bond with her. But we couldn’t stay forever, and we started walking, a line of bouncing backpacks. Two other groups stood at the first big road, and we took a minibus taxi with one of them. As all groups were going elsewhere, we decided to stay in Havana. A kind man showed us a casa particular, where we took both rooms. Off to buy WiFi cards, as there was no such thing as private WiFi. In parks and hotels there was WiFi, for which you needed a code. In the telephone centre I somehow found out, in Spanish, that one hour was 1.50 and five 7.50, and that the hours could be spread over a months. Dos cinco horas por favor. Gracias. I was kinda proud.
Off to a supermarket, which was bizarre. There weren’t a lot of products, but what was there took at least ten rows. Per product. Just exactly the same, Cuban brand of soap, filling a large space. I’d never seen anything like it. We bought a few products, which we ended up never using. Next WiFi, with bread and peanut butter from the ship as lunch. Back at the casa we planned the next day, with help from the family. They arranged for a taxi to take us to Viñales the next day, and cooked a lovely meal for us.
After a nice breakfast, our mini-truck arrived. Oh yeah. We just fit, and waved our hosts goodbye. Once out of the city, we got to see some of Cuba’s countryside. It was different from all the other places we’d been. Dusty, yet lush. A mix of modern and old fashioned. I just loved seeing the people on their bikes with braided garlic hanging left and right, the weight of the bulbs almost bending the handlebars. The landscape turned hillier, and large rocks rose from the ground; typical for Viñales. The casa that had also been arranged for us was very charming, and even had a tiny roof terrace. An elderly couple lived there, and they sweetly arranged for us to ride at two.
Most of our group had never ridden before, and it was hilarious when they did. Off we went, up a dusty track. We weren’t the only riders; many groups passed or rode either in front or behind us. We rode through the valley, till we arrived at a large tobacco field. Our horses were tied to the trees by our guide, and we walked down the hill to a big shed made of palm leaves. The man inside showed us the whole process of preparing tobacco and making cigars. They have to give a staggering 90% of their yield to the government, and the rest is processed according to a recipe that varies from farmer to farmer. In the end the fermented leaves are hand-rolled into cigars. This guy’s cigars smelled like honey. The way he rolled them was so fast and precise, his hands trained by years of practise. We left the drying shed to ride back through the beautiful landscape of gray rock and red earth.
The next day was mostly taken by a hop on hop off bus tour through the valley. We stopped by a large face of rock, on which the prehistoric evolution had been painted. We climbed to the top, which was nothing compared to El Teide or the hike on Dominica. Next we went to a cave, but when we found out you had to pay and that it wasn't that spectacular, we simply had lunch and went on. The bus dropped us on the other side of town, so we walked along the main street, stopping at a souvenir market along the way. We ate out that evening, and by chance found out about another horse riding opportunity. We reserved horses for the next day, and rode off in the morning. Another farm, this time with vanilla cigars. Next came a sugar cane and coffee plantation. They sold a very special type of rum, which couldn't be bought in any other part of Cuba or the world, due to the limited availability of a certain indigenous berry. Further along was a cave where we walked quite deep into a small passage. The last stop was a lake, but we didn't stay long. On our way back we finally cantered, and it was a trusted feeling, with the wind in my hairs and the horse moving beneath me. I'm not sure how well treated they were though, and I'm usually cautious with such things, but they seemed fine.
Back in Viñales we looked for one of the local buses, but were unable to find one, so we took a taxi to Puerto Esperanza, a fishing village on the coast. Again the casa was nice, and they prepared an amazing meal for us with plenty of lobster, for only four CUC or so per person. Ridiculous, but the non-veggies were very happy.
The fifth day was a relaxed one, and Thibault's birthday. We went snorkeling in the first half of the day, and chilled a bit in the afternoon. We'd arranged a surprise dinner and cake for Thibault at a local restaurant, and lead him there with a blindfold on. The cake was seriously huge, with blue frosting and coconut flavor. I think he was pretty happy. After a nice dinner and a large piece of cake each, we made our way to a party, in a bar. We danced between the Cubans, and returned to the casa with a smile on our faces.
On day six we just caught the local bus, which was actually a truck with a bench along either side. It cost a CUC per person, and brought us to Pinar del Rio. In the bus we met four other backpackers, also on their way to Havana. We took the next truck together with them, a private one. We're sassers, and we've taken a liking to hammocks. The bus had a bar attached to the ceiling. Lika wanted to sleep. So she borrowed Emília's hammock, and strung it up. The rest of us tried to make ourselves comfortable as the truck bumped around and the rain hammered down. We were dropped on the edge of Havana because the truck wasn't allowed any further. We said goodbye to the backpackers, and had lunch. Bread, mayo and fresh churros. Time to hitchhike. After not too long a pick-up stopped, and we piled into the back. And so we got an open air tour of Havana, being dropped off incredibly close to our casa. We didn't do much that evening, just tried to use the rather crappy WiFi.
On our last full day we explored the old part of the city, visiting the chocolate museum while the boys went to the hairdresser. Everyone was desperate for chocolate, and we told the other groups. From the old centre we took a small taxi to John Lennon Park. Rule number one: it always fits. Yes, the nine of us crammed into a small taxi, and drove to the park without problems. Once there we took plenty of photos next to John, or well, a statue of him. I then climbed up into a tree. Why? Well, why not?
We ate pizza and pasta in a nice little restaurant, before going to Submarino Amarillo; the Beatles cafe. Two other groups had the same idea, and we exchanged stories. We were the only ones to have travelled west, they'd all gone the other way. A band played live, and they were pretty good. After a few hours we'd had enough though, and took a taxi back.
Our final day was spent wandering about, buying souvenirs and coffee, and more chocolate. Always more chocolate. Then it was time to pick up our bags at the casa, and wait for our cars. Because we wanted to return to the ship in style. Two big, red convertibles from the fifties parked in front of us, and we loaded our bags into the back. I sat in the front seat, and felt like a movie star, cruising back to through Havana like that. And then we saw them. Another group, in the coco tuck tucks. Absolutely brilliant. I'm happy they made that choice, as we felt even better then. We were the last to arrive, and the only ones to have that kind of transport. Oh, life can be good.
And it got better. For some reason Jet was still walking about. Oh, her flight had been delayed till that evening. But we were suspicious, and our suspicions turned out to be true: she was staying just a bit longer, until Bermuda! Everyone was happy.
Another announcement came, and that was that Madelon, the languages teacher, had been sent home. During own journey she'd been switched for one of the new mates because it really wasn't working out, and a lot of other little things had happened before. A lot of us never wanted to talk to her again because of it, so she'd been fired. Nobody was really sad, which itself is kind of sad, but well. She f*ck*d up.
After an evening full of talking, we slept sweetly, only to have all kinds of ambassadors and their children come by the next day. Dutch, Belgian, Portuguese, and a few more. I got to give the Australian one a tour.
It was weird to see people our own age, without wild hair and crumpled clothes. We'd stopped worrying about our appearance a long, long time ago. They were all so... clean. Lol.
We left the next day, leaving Jelle and Geeske behind. Now the kitchen was fully ours. They were a part of the group, and a lot of us cried at the goodbye. Go through customs, raise the sails, tighten the sheet. Goodbye Caribbean.
The following video is mostly of eastern Cuba, and I went to the West, but it gives a good impression.