Hasta la vista, Habana!
Bienvenidos Cienfuegos!
On
the next day we say goodbye to Havana and take on the Autopista towards
Cienfuegos. The Cubans and the road markings aren't close friends, so the later
ones are missing from the road. We get off the highway and continue onto some
third class road. In one of the villages that we go through, only the main
street is asphalt-paved, the side streets are gravel and mud. In this area, the
main means of transport are the horse carriages and the bikes. However, I've got
the feeling that the only thing the Cubans do is to travel, because under every
palm tree, there are people waiting for somebody to take them on the road. On
the next palm tree, we witness the following funny event: a car stops at
something like a bus station and all the 15-20 people waiting there rush to the
vehicle with the idea to get in. After a while the people back off and
surprisingly nobody has gone inside the car and the vehicle is whole. In the
village that we pass through and even in the larger towns, almost every house
has the following mandatory tools of the loafer/kibitzer – rocking chair
positioned toward the street and a working TV inside the house, which can be
heard through the opened windows.
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| Another pimped up Moskvich |
We
arrive in Cienfuegos, which is kind of industrial center, it even has a nuclear
power plant. Our guide tells us it is the only city in Cuba, established by the
French and it has an arch and a compass in the city center, as most of the
French cities have. Compared to Havana, the people here offer us restaurants
and not cigars and drugs. (As we are toward the end of our trip, my desire for
shooting has significantly decreased, so there will be less pictures for you to
see.)
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| The bay around Cienfuegos |
We
leave our stuff in our new casa-s particular and Osmel takes us to a small
restaurant to eat. The place is really nice and represents a covered back yard
of a private house, decorated with all sorts of things, among which something
like a 3D landscape of Cienfuegos. Finally, we have the pleasure to drink a
great Mojito, the best that we'll have in Cuba. Also, it is the most
personalized – if it's not strong enough, they come and pour some more rum. The
food is also exceptionally tasty, on par with the cocktails, which are pouring
down into our mouths simultaneously with the rain outside.
With
every day passed, my transformation into Che progresses (I forgot to take my
shaving machine) and I decide that the hat of one of our girls will suit me
better (it's in a revolutionary green color). I put it and expect that the
owners of the place will see me as their national hero and will say that all
the Mojitos are on the house. That, of course, doesn't happen, but it doesn’t
stop us from continuing to wipe out their supplies of mint and rum. As we eat
and drink, one of the guys accidently tips off his cocktail and soaks his part
of the table. Ashamed for a second, we order another round of Mojitos. Being in
the opposite end of the table, geographically and in terms of dampness, I spill
a second drink, again without any intent (since there weren't any intents or
thoughts in my head at the moment). After a solid quantity of Mojitos we decide
that it is time to go to sleep. With full majority and communist unanimity we
announce the dinner and the drinks for the best ones for our whole trip in Cuba
(although there are a couple of days left, we know that this restaurant cannot
be surpassed). Salut and Buenas noches.
Crocodiles and pigs
Our
first stop for the day is a crocodile farm, close to Guama. There, we are
walking around crocodiles at the age of 1 month to 50 years, all in cages, of
course. Almost without exceptions, all creatures are standing still and are
basking in the considerable heat. We go to a guy holding a small and safeguarded
specimen to have a photo with it. At first nobody ventures to grab it, but as I
am standing in the front and I am the hugriest of the group, I take it from the
man. After which everybody from the group have their try with the crocodile.
Part of the animals bred in the farm are let in the wild, as we are on the territory
of the Zapata national park, another part stays at the farm, and the rest
(mainly the naughty ones) are prequalified into clothes, accessories or the
main meals at the near restaurant. We learn a disturbing fact – the crocodiles
can reach a speed of 60 km/h or 37m/h on land and the only way to run away is
to run in zigzag.
We
leave the farm and go to the restaurant on the other side of the road, where
one of our group risks and orders some crocodile dish. Although, the majority
of the exotic animals taste like chicken, the crocodile meat is more like pork
and is rather good.
After
the interesting lunch we go to the coolest thing in the whole wide world or at
least according to the signs – a boat ride with a speed boat to an Indian
village. We go into some manmade channels and after a while we enter a large
lake, at the opposite end of which we reach the island, where the Indian
village is located. There, we walk next to statues of the Taino Indians, which
show their way of life and culture. The path leads us to a wigwam, which we
enter and see some Cubans in Indian attire to dance. They invite us to dance
with them, put black marks on our cheeks and put out their hands waiting for
uno peso. We are amazed by the fact that they are taking us for Indians, even
Osmel is astound by the show, which lasts only 5-10 seconds. We continue with
our tour of the island and find some normally looking villas for renting.
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| Toward the wigwam of the Indian charlatans |
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| A local bird of prey |
We
head to the Bay of Pigs and the first thing that impresses us is the
tranquility and desolation of the place. After we take a look at the War
museum, we head to the holiday village on the beach. There, we find nice fine
sand, palms, it's almost sunset, a swimming pool full of kids, but even they
seem as someone have pressed the mute button – perfect calmness. But to ruin
everything, when you look at the sea and the horizon, your look hits a concrete
wall, a real one, built in the sea, parallel to the beach, probably to keep the
people safe from the beauty of the sunrise and the sunset. Total madness. Most
probably, a war madness.
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| One of the few living creatures around |
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| The inhuman tranquility of the Bay of Pigs |
After
we go back to Cienfuegos, we head for a walk around the city. We take a look at
the city center with the arch and the compass and continue our walk on the Baby
Malekon, a small sea side boulevard, where we find another wonder of the Cuban
genius – a billboard with its own electricity meter, hanging on a couple of
wires.
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| Evening impressions 1 |
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| Evening impressions 2 |
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