Santiago de Cuba

Road Trip in Cuba: Baracoa, Guantanamo and Santiago de Cuba

Wednesday morning we scarfed down wonderful breakfast: lots of strong coffee (Cuban coffee beats the grinds off Starbucks), eggs and bread (the usual State-produced airy cardboard, it was the same in every town we were in: regulations had obviously specified that bread, in order to be sold in their bakeries, must contain the least amount of nutritional value and be as crusty and airy as possible in a loaf), mysterious new fruits (I learned about zapotes and guyaba, 2 fruits I had never heard of before) and some amazing guyaba jam.

We met up with the others explorers after breakfast and left on foot to see the town. We wandered like tourists around the center of the town. Maciek got a classic Cuban hair cut and I hung out in an artist’s studio/gallery talking to the very pleasant young artist working there. We met up with Roberto again, much to my surprise; he biked around the town until he found our car and stayed by it until we came back - loyal man. He walked with me up to the big cathedral that dominated the town center, which was supposed to have the original cross of Columbus that he planted on Cuban soil. It's not the first time we've heard that. I got accosted by numerous guys trying to sell everything from 'natural' necklaces to near-dead bananas to locally made chocolate and I pretended not to understand. Sometimes it's a struggle, because I want to talk to people and improve my Spanish, but they all seem to want something from you, so sometimes it's better to play dumb.

We got tired of sightseeing after an hour and decided to leave, escorted once again by Roberto on his bicycle. He was one of our best experiences in Baracoa - the chocolate, not so much.

The countryside kept changing more and more as we drove and soon we were out of the jungle into desert-like mountains on our right with crashing surf on our left. We stopped in Guantanamo Bay for lunch and to look around. Cuban military was everywhere because of the only American-occupied territory in Cuba. Although we were hoping to see orange-jacketed American troops around, all we saw were tons and tons of Cuban soldiers. Cuban army base was nearby, I suppose to keep an eye on their most feared enemies. They really are convinced that invasion from America is imminent and that the Americans, wish them only harm. It became clear as we traveled what a mind job the relentless State propaganda had done. This was very sad.

Downtown Guantanamo, we went into the central market selling vegetables and fruits: tomatoes, onions, chilies, pinas, garlic... We made the bad choice of buying some oranges, the only ones we saw, and they turned out to be most sour things I've ever tasted. They were most likely 'naranjas agria' used for marinades, which I only found out after we tried to eat them, and I can give you a great recipe for Mojo marinade for pork if you're interested.

We found our way to the bakery by following an old man up about 3 blocks, but were unsuccessful in finding a place that would sell meat and cheese. Going back to our car we got an attachment. Some sort of a "crazy" guy who spoke English and had been in Canada he said, kept pestering the guys until Maciek, being the Defender of Obtuse Canadians, told him very bluntly to go away. Unfortunately, it happened to be right in the middle of an incoherent, but nice conversation that I was having with him: the guy had been singing me a the only song he knew in English, which was about being found by Jesus!

Being a bit upset that I had lost my "crazy" companion - yes even in Cuba I attract them!, I walked off in a huff while the others were waiting for their pizza (a fortunate find at only 3 pesos), and I found myself walking alone along a street where old and young men were waiting, selling cigarettes, toothpaste, shampoo, and matches and anything else. This young Canadian girl got a few whistles. I didn't whistle back. And my independent pride took a dive as I concluded I shouldn't walk alone without my Maciek escort again!

We left and headed for Santiago de Cuba, confident that with our map and Eugenio's arrangements, we could find our lodgings for the night without a problem. We couldn't have been more wrong. Once in the city, the streets proved to be torturous and the signs on the side of the buildings were unintelligible if there were any signs at all, and frequently the 4 names on the sign didn't correspond with anything on the map. I knew where we were supposed to be on the map, but never where we were at the moment. Frustration built as we asked person after person and they would start to tell us a direction before we sped off to the next person.

The guide who eventually led us there commandeered someone's motorbike, just hopped on the back and sped off indicating for us to follow him. It was about 5 minutes of up and down, back alleys and San Francisco style one-way streets, but we did get there. He expected a tip of course, a lesson once again that nothing came for free, and when we gave him a dollar, he wanted another for the driver. It was a bad scene of cross-translated confusion and we got more frustrated even before we turned into the landlady's place where more misinformation and confusion awaited us.

We weren't to stay at THAT place for the night after all, oh no! It was to be another car ride 15 blocks away, and then the price was not what we were quoted, in fact nothing was what we expected and we were caught with the sinking feeling that we were pawns in a gigantic chess game where the rules kept changing dramatically. It was either a choice of jumping back into the car and finding our way to another place to stay or biting the bullet and staying with what we were stuck with. I hope y'all have never had to be in the situation of not getting what you were promised!

Eventually we all get back together and got ourselves fed and sorted and prepared to go out on the town for a night of music and dance and have some FUN! I got a few locations of good Cuban music for that night from Juan our host, an interesting and intelligent man who was a magazine writer and the manager for a Cuban band that had toured all over Europe.

We went to the first spot, one small and un-touristy Casa de Musica, and although it was only a dollar to get in, it was too small for our comfort. The second was harder to find, but before we got there, we were 'found' by some local Cubans who were willing to lead the way to la Casa des Trobas. By then we were tired and only wanted to have a beer, so we sat down in a restaurant where we all (the 5 of us and our four guides) sat for a beer each. It was pleasant, but again came that moment of confusion when we realized that the guides were not going to pay for their drinks ("We don't have any money, Senor!" they pleaded innocently) and we were stuck footing the bill. Another gaffe in guiding.

Finally we got to the point of the evening and we younger 3 went to la Casa des Trobas while Dave and Linda went back to bed, and once we got in the door (and told our persistently still-attentive guides we weren't paying for them to come in with us) it was magical. The music was live and beautiful, a band of about 10 old guys up there rocking it out like salsa had just hit town, just like we imagined.

Maciek and I danced (yes, these kids can MOVE!) on the balcony in full view of the 20 or 30 locals that were hanging out below. Maciek got many approving looks at his catch of a woman. Luke didn't dance, just sat and nursed his beer, but I danced as much as I could and I was frankly glad he was there to deflect those approving looks! After an hour things packed up and we headed out, going in four different directions looking for home. Being wise to the whiles of the guides, we refused one after another and walked around like blind men, but we did get there eventually and tumbled down into bed tired tourists.

NEXT   |  POST A MESSAGE