jueves, 6 de enero de 2011

In which I make a pilgrimage, have a breakdown and salsa the night away

So though some time has passed and I have been busy organising Christmas concerts, toy-drives and sponsored runs I thought I really should finish up writing about Cuba.

So when I left off last time we’d spent a few days in Havana and had acclimatised ourselves to the attempted scams and had actually become super cynical to the point where when the taxi driver took us to the bus station I was sure he was trying to rip us off when he was actually just taking us to the proper station.  Isabelle also found the smiling and nodding your head when she doesn’t understand people’s Spanish doesn’t always work out, especially when the taxi driver is saying you girls don’t like me with dark skin, you think we’re ugly right? Ah inadvertent taxi racism.

We got the bus down to the centre south of the island to the town of Cienfuegos, (meaning 100 fires). Ironically given the name, five minutes after we arrived there was a town-wide powercut. We ended up eating dinner in a paladar (where people’s front rooms are converted into mini restaurants- with 4-5 tables), in the pitch black being serenaded by the most beautifully-voiced singers. Very surreal, and you would pay a fortune to go to the pitch-black restaurant in London. We walked home in the pitch black along unfamiliar streets aware of the movement from the doorways where residents of Cienfuegos regularly sit out on their doorsteps and chat to each other. In fact just hanging out on the doorstep seems to be the primary form of leisure activity in this town.

We were staying with a very friendly couple who were both doctors and rented their room out on the side. They made us pina coladas and we had a lovely chat about all sorts of things. Restricted by the powercut we had a early night.

The next day we crammed onto a bumpy, run-down bus and trundled away to the seaside. As is standard on all our trips a young child vomited next to Isabelle (once is gross, more than once you have to start wondering about the effect you have on small children.) Found the beach, roasted in the hot sun and went for a lovely swim. We got back to town on a very loud, crammed in bus and freshened up before heading out to explore the non-re-illuminated bright lights of Cienfuegos nightlife. Started off in a very tiny, Cuban-only bar where we were quickly joined by the only other 2 men in there. Was quite nice to chat although I had said we don’t talk Spanish to give us a get out clause (Cuba brings out the liar in me), and then had to act really hard to not react to what they were saying in Spanish. After that we headed to a club called Benny’s where we hung out with a nice group of Cuban’s and tourists (6 ft 5 skin head from Salamanca, Spain, mid-40s playwright called Dante from Italy, plus young Cuban kids called Bryan and co.- looking around at our merry group I swear we looked like something out of Lord of the Rings). Drank rum, met a guy we’d met early who had come up to us at dinner and said “oh i saw you guys in Havana- let’s meet up later”, but turned out he was just a really European looking Cuban trying to fool us.  

The next day we found a bargain taxi driver and started out on the very long drive to Santa Clara. It was lovely to sit back and watch the flat fields of sugarcane monotonously rolling by... that was until the beat-up Fird Fiesta started spluttering the way and finally gave up the ghost and broke down right in the middle of nowhere.  After much pushing, and huffing and puffing we managed to get it going again and, holding our breath, rattled on to Santa Clara. The city its self was pretty underwhelming but we were there to visit Che’s tomb. Was an impressive site with an interesting museum but is all a bit strange with the deification of a man who’s claim was to be one of and for the people.

Our journey came full circle as we headed back in a collective taxi (with, unfortunately, the most overwight Cubans I’d seen since getting here.) Was great t get back to Havana after the quiet, understatement of the other cities. We wandered the streets with a homecoming joy, ate a lunch to tapas, did some shopping and then got ready for our last night out in Cuba.

First we headed out to eat at La Guardia, a paladar which had been set up in the flat used in the firlm Fresa y Chocolat, and a place I had been too poor to visit last time I was here (Eve and I had asked if we could stick out heads in the door without buying anything.) This time we sat in the relative opulence and ate nice food, mojitos and two very chocolatey desserts!

From there we had a quick power nap then headed down to the main street to find a good bar. We didn’t need to look far because soon enough we stumbled across a street party, full of salsa dancing and generally a fun atmosphere. We soon got chatting to two Cuban guys and had a crash (not kidding) course salsa lesson which soon made us the focal point, and probably chuckling point, of the street. Danced away and then we headed on with the guys to a discoteca where there was more salsa lessons (got quite dictatorial- a lot of not like that like this- Isabelle and I tried to teach them some of our patented disco moves but they were having none of it. After the disco we headed out to the Marecon, the sea wall where we sat and listened to the sea and tried to divide the boats’ lights on the ocean from the stars. All rather romantic and nice to use the Marecon the way the Cuban’s do- as a cheap date location. Headed home and packed up all ready for our flight out the next day.

Lessons learnt:

The cheapest taxi option is not always the best, unless you like your journeys to involve some cardio-vascular workout

Hiding from the 20 mins of rain we had the whole trip we ducked into a bookstore where I spent $60 on film posters. No-one needs that many film posters. Especially when you don't own, or plan to own, any walls. You can try and escape capitalism but it will find you.

Che was a man. He did some very cool things. It is weird how he has been made into a deity and a logo rolled into one. I'm not sure he would have liked this. (I still remember reading his diaries the first time in Cuba. "Day 2: We are low on drinking water. I think I remember reading somewhere if you mix sea-water and drinking water together it goes further. Day 3: Everyone is sick." He is a legend just for that.)

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