Travel Stories - Cuba

It is half past two in the afternoon when I have waited after hours on the road in Cienfuegos when a truck finally arrives. People come from afar and when they are closer I notice that they all have a small piece of paper with a number in their hands. How do they get there now? The truck is full but I have forced myself forward so that I can grab a seat next to my big bag. The ride takes about 2 hours, the man says to me and I feel my ass already (waiting for hours) before I drop on that wooden bench. We indeed stop at every corner, it seems, when we leave the cities and villages behind us and for hours, it seems, drive through a kind of swamp area as I had already seen on the map. The two hours will be 2.5 hours and will be 3 hours. Almost everyone has now stepped out and I am also told to leave. When I leave the truck I’m almost immediately dragged into a casa. I feel my chest and get my business cards out of my pocket; I know for sure that those people of that "casa" also charge 15 CUC and I do not want to pay more. It is pointed out to me (so probably these people wanted to ask much more) and I walk through someone else's house to find a way in a small side street. My intended sleeping place is full but I am told to walk along. I meet a man and woman who also have a room for rent. The room is fine, the people even speak some English and I drop my bag in my room, talk to the residents for a bit and decide then to walk into the town or village. 

The little street where I got caught doesn’t very appealing; the street consists of sand, rubble and gravel and there are many unfinished houses. Chickens and stray dogs scurry around looking for something to eat. When I arrive at the main road I choose not to walk towards the museum and big hotel but opposite. At a local supermarket (cart) I buy a can of Coke and walk towards the beach. There are some iron obstacles in the landscape but whether these are also related to the "invasion" remains uncertain. Between two small poles I come on a terrain full of holiday homes (or at least they look like that) but it is completely empty. Now I see that all the houses are closed -sealed off - and nobody is living here anymore. Later I would realize that these maybe are fom the "Batista" time when a lot of American tourist where staying here or maybe locals on holiday earned with American dollars. Arriving at the waterline I see on one side a beautiful white sand beach with palm trees and on the other side a large piece of iron concrete which looks like a bunker and a bit further a white watchtower. I wouldn’t be surprised if this lookout was the one that discovered the boats of the (American) invasion of 1961. I decide to walk to the white beach and while I look at the terrible ugly high stone wall that has been erected in the water (later I would read a kind of basin to swim) I walk to the stone stairs that lead me to the big hotel where I read over and over again.

A very large swimming pool, white plastic sunbeds and a souvenir shop. I actually walk along the pool assuming that I am being sent away here very fast since I am not a guest. If that is not the case, I can ask again if I can order a beer, so that I can still use and enjoy the late sun. Unfortunately I do not get the beer for free this time but a little later I’m lying on a lounger in the sun next to a beautiful big pool to enjoy with two beers (you have to get two for 1 CUC). When the sun goes down and I have to go back (I have arranged for dinner at 7:00 pm) I walk back to my "casa". The man is a fisherman and told me that he would prepare delicious fish fillet tonight. The food is delicious and too much. I chat with the owners and then walk back into my room to update my diary and read my book about the invasion of the “Bay of Pigs” – the place I just visited. 

The next morning I am awakened by an orchestra of roosters who can be heard all around my room. It seems they are sitting just next to my window outside. After the perfect breakfast I walk to the museum where I meet an Austrian couple who asks me if I might be interested to drive to Havana tomorrow - they have to go that way anyway and they wouldn’t mind. In the afternoon I decide to walk to a small sandy beach – it’s parallel along the beach and decide then from there to walk to the "Playa de Pinas" beach. Groups of palm trees and behind them other greenery that provide relief from the strong wind and the bright burning sun. I find a place under the trees and put the towel down that I have taken from the casa. After a while I walk back in the afternoon; First I come across the large watchtower that is almost destroyed by the hurricane. It is a strange experience here - pieces of stone and wall have been broken away by the pressure of the sea and a little further on the very ugly sea wall begins. Back in the casa I meet some neighbours; when they leave we watch some TV together and it turns out the owners have cable. They receive foreign channels, which is actually not allowed they tell me. We drink some rum together and then I go to my bed. Tomorrow I’m leaving together (hopefully) with my Belgian friends to Havana, the capital, my last destination in Cuba.