At the Playa de Esmeralda chasing aeroplanes and microlights

Phil's version: Day 102/26 May

During the night there is another heavy storm which drives rain through every open window and floods the cabin floor. As we leave for a day visit to the nearby resort complexes the manager of our hotel suggests avoiding the ford but when we get there a local recommends we attempt a crossing. I am reluctant at first but after watching a truck cross with only the tyres inundated I give it a go. No problems, but a couple of inches deeper and we would have had water in the floor pan. The river is flowing very fast and the surge against the upstream side can be felt.

There is a piece of preserved coastal forest just west of Guardalavaca with a well-signed botanical trail, but even here the thump of nearby beach music and the screaming of excited children rather detracts from the peace as we walk. The main hotel ‘strip’ is just as we feared and is inhabited by hapless Brits and Canadians who seem marooned in their island of free entertainment, booze and food.

 

Phil with one of the Cuban Army flight captains

I seek out an outfit which organises parachuting and water-borne microlight flights, but they are only jumping today (which I don’t have the courage to do) as it is too unstable for the microlights. The microlight pilot formerly flew helicopters for the Cuban Army and was two years in Angola supporting the UNITA rebels.

After watching the parachutists take off we notice that our hire car has been subject to attempted break-in by forcing the passenger door. We’re not sure when this might have happened but suspect yesterday in Las Tunas where a man offered to ‘look after’ our car when we parked. I had refused which probably led him to do the damage. We must try to get some official acknowledgement so as to avoid losing our deposit, so we try with the hotel security people but without success. I can’t face another session with the Police such as we suffered in Namibia, and it makes us very depressed about the state of human nature which threatens to turn us all to paranoid distrust.

Allie's version of Day 102: Saturday, 26^th of May

A drive to Guardalavaca and chasing micolights and aeroplanes

The rains certainly came in again and at quite some strength! At midnight I am woken by threatening sounding thunder and minutes later we find half of our cabina is under water! I drag out our drowned suitcase and clothes and try to store things on higher grounds. I am worried about the river and whether we have to spend the rest of our time here in Don Lino. Sleep is passé until early morning.

Allie has waded through the mud puddles to test the depth of the water

We sleep in and arrive at breakfast just 30min before closing time. No wonder we are ‘punished’ to find that there is no more milk, no cups or glasses and that half of the buffet is empty. We should have known by now that from x to z mean do by all means show up at time x because time z doesn’t exist. The drive across the river is manageable, but some more rain will definitely make it impossible for our car to cross.

Todays exercise is to search for helicopters, microlights on floats and an old Antonov that drop parachutists. As you can imagine – not my favourite kind of thing to do, but Phil is really keen to get some rare shots. We drive to Playa Esmeralda where the heliport is supposed to be. And indeed the station is there, but no helicopter. Instead we find ourselves walking along a short but quite interesting nature-trail that leads to the beach and explains about the various type of cactus and the native but nearly extinct Ba trees.

A la Playa de Esmeralda

On to the main tourist beach of Guardalavaca. This stretch of beach is full of big mega all-inclusive resorts. Most guests here are from Canada and the UK. But my God, even given I wouldn’t want to spend a fortnight here! We are in search of the microlight boys and finally Phil gets hold of them, but not of the microlight. The weather has been so bad here that they haven’t flown for 21 days. That’s the worst they ever had since the start of the operation 10 years ago! 

Nobody understands this strange weather pattern but it seems to continue even through today. After some time waiting around and talking to the guys we are finally shown the microlight with it’s rubber boat suspended underneath in a hanger near the hotel. Then suddenly the sound of an aeroplane and we race out to the little airstrip to watch the double winged 60 years old Antonov land. They are taking 4 passengers up for a parachute jump and wave me and Phil in to join them. 

Phil testing the cockpit of the Antonov

But we both just don’t have the courage to do it (Phil's excuse being that he has already flown in this type of aircraft and that he doesn’t need a flight in it). One of the passengers is a wild looking Canadian lady who already had done 28 jumps and probably spends all her holidays ever to come here to Guardalavaca. I just don’t see the point…nevertheless Phil is allowed on to the tarmac to take pictures whilst I get more and more itchy to return back home to our resort. 

This was supposed to be our ‘rest-at-the-beach’ day and now I find myself waiting for aeroplanes to arrive, for funny microlights to be digged out of hidden hangers and to chase non-existent helicopters. 

But finally my man is happy because he got some good shots and we drive back. I must add – to be fair to him – that whilst we had been waiting, I went for a snorkel swim. But what an disappointment: the sea here seems to be completely devoid of anything living or growing. Except for one big sea urchin and a tiny little fish I didn’t see anything. And this is the famous Caribbean sea??

looks like the Caribbean but....

On our way back to the hotel we detect that somebody must have tried with force to open our front door of the car! There are at least 10 huge dents around the topside of my door which clearly shows that somebody must have used a tool and lots of force trying to open it. Shit! Where and when did that happen and why must it always happen to us? Why do people have to screw you all the time? We are debating what to do and neither of us fancies spending the rest of this already long day at a police station explaining the unknows. We finally ask the hotel manager for advice and after some long discussions he agrees to write up a piece of paper for the car company. Let’s hope it works.

The sun is hidden behind thick and rainy clouds and we have to stick with writing and reading hiding underneath umbrellas or in the bar.

Rain and more rain and onwards to Guernavaca

Phil's version: Day 101/25 May

typical street scene in one of the many towns we pass

It has poured with rain all night but nevertheless people are shouting in the street outside at 4 a.m. My first task is to go with the bell-boy to Cubacar to check out the errant wheel. En route we discuss the familiar pleasantries about sport and family. He plays baseball on Saturday, his only day off. 

Castro promotes the historic sites in Camaguey province

He has a lone daughter of twelve “In Cuba, one child, problem, two childs, two problem”. I told him I had four. 

On arrival at the suburban workshop I am ejected from the repair yard by the security guard (health and safety, no doubt!) so cannot watch the work being conducted, but after half-an-hour I am re-united with the car following ‘wheel balancing’.

As I drive away the noise from the front wheel is just as before but it seems pointless to return.

 Crossing by the only two river bridges into town I notice half the population is hanging over the parapet gazing at the torrent beneath.

the bridge is nearly flooded

Between my outward and return journey the water level has risen over 50cm. The bell-boy says it is 20 years since the river was this high and so I text Allie to prepare to leave before our exit route is cut off.

We make it just before the river floods the bridge approach roads and set course for Las Tunas and the coast. 

The countryside is more interesting than yesterday (but only just) and Las Tunas an uninspiring town. Each roadside co-operative has erected slogan-boards decrying the ‘Yanquis’ and praising ‘La revolucion’. ‘Get Well, Fidel’ hangs from every telephone post and farm entrance.

After Holguin, where we get lost again, the road improves remarkably driving towards Guernavaca, the tourist resort coast where we want to spend some final days of recuperation, no doubt intended to impress arriving visitors with the benefits of Fidel’s brand of Socialism.

at the coast again: the Playa Blance of Columbus

Allie has identified the only hotel not part of the massive Melia-style complexes at a place named Playa Blanca where Columbus allegedly made his landfall in 1492. After fording a river in flood and following a deteriorating dirt road we arrive to discover the place is full with Cubans enjoying ‘reward’ holidays courtesy of their government. The manager at last finds us a cottage near the beach, but it may only be available for one night. We help ourselves to Cuba Libres and there is even wine with the meal. It is certainly more friendly and well-organised than the example in Giron.

  

Allie's version of DAY 101: Friday, 25^th of May

Onwards to the North Coast of Cuba!

water levels are raising dangerously

Breakfast is served at the 5^th floor at our Hotel in a nice colonial style restaurant with splendid views over the city. The only downside is, that the floors have been soaked in water during tonights heavy rains and that the choice of food is not what you would have expected from such an upmarket hotel. But never mind! After feeding ourselves with pineapple, powdered milk and undrinkable coffee Phil goes off with a fellow from the hotel to the garage to check our car. In the meantime I am allowed the luxury to enjoy a dip in the pool without anybody else being around. Great!

At 9.30 am Phil returns with the same car. The boys have checked it but didn’t really find anything wrong, nevertheless it’s making the same strange noise when we finally drive out of the city. It’s obviously rained so heavily during the past 4 days that the rivers are about to flood and we are in danger to actually getting trapped in Camaguey because the bridge is flooded with water. The water level is raising rapidly, Phil tells me, since he had just crossed the river a few minutes ago and it’s risen since then by at least half a meter.

non-stop heavy rain is flooding the roads

We manage the 130km to Las Tunes in about 90 min on a straight road and head out to the airport. Alas there is absolutely nothing to see! The airport only has one flight a week and it’s completely void of anything alive on this Friday noon. We hope to grab a coffee downtown, but even the ‘Cafeteria’ doesn’t serve coffee. What a place!

Ok, continue towards Holguin, another 90km battling dozens of horsecarts, bicycles and trucks. We miss the town centre because – of course – there a no signs, but finally we are out on the road towards the northern coast. We found a hotel in the Lonely Planet that is described as quiet and ‘romantic’ and we try to get there. But first we have to cross another nearly flooded bridge and 8km on a pothole road. When we get there exhausted and tired of driving we are told that it’s full! No rooms available for tonight. 

an old forgotten steam train

But the manager seems to be kind and helpful and he asks us to wait. Yes please, let us stay! I would even sleep in a donkey barn tonight. The little ‘Playa Bianca’ looks very inviting and there aren’t many other guests around, well not Whities anyway. 

As we later find out, this hotel called the ‘Don Lino’ is now the main resort for ‘bonus workers’ that receive 3 days here as a free holiday from their company as a special reward for their good work. Wow! We are honoured to eventually book into cabina no 36 right at the end of all the bungalows. So it should be in theory a quiet nice place.

I look forward to dive into the waves. But they are really strong this afternoon. A huge storm raves across the Atlantic causing huge waves and later a big thunderstorm. We enjoy a couple of hours at the beach reading and relaxing. This actually is supposed to be the area where Christopher Columbus landed on the 28^th of October 1492 discovering Cuba and new land in the West. As proud Cuban plates proclaim, Columbus was so impressed with the country that he called it “the most beautiful land”! – well, we don’t quite understand his enthusiasm but after probably months on a rough sea, every piece of land might seem like paradise.

finally a place to stay but we are battered by strong winds

Oh, forgot to tell: this again is ‘all-inclusive’ for 80 Cus! So we indulge in a few drinks and later at the restaurant even in free wine! Can you believe it? The other place wanted to charge us at least 6 cus for it, but I guess we are here in the up-market Cuban resort and even wine is included. We are starting to like our Cuban ‘all-inclusive’ holidays!

Dinner opens at 7pm and we allow to come 20minutes later. But that’s a BIG mistake if you are in a Cuban Resort: most of the guests were there exactly at 7.00 filling their plates with whatever food you could find on the buffet, from starters (soup and salad) to mains (spaghetti, rice, meat and veggis) to deserts (the obligatory cookies and pudding of some dubious sort). Anyway, when we get there, half of the buffet is already empty (a lady having piled up her plate so much that everything is dropping off from all sides!) but the three waitresses just stand around like lemons doing absolutely nothing. 

The great discovery – as I mentioned earlier – is, that we even get wine for free in this place. We try the local white wine and find it’s not too bad. Dinner officially is open from 7.00 to 9.30pm but when a young couple enters the restaurant just at 8.30 pm we can see not only the faces of the waitresses dropping but also of the young couple: there is hardly any food left and they are probably being told, that buffet is finished! If that is the way communism works it’s no wonder that it teaches more greed and selfishness then capitalism ever would!

We retreat from this dinner battle with a glass of straight rum (you can’t get much else from this free bar then rum and beer) and go out to the beach. The winds have dropped but the sea is still bashing against the shore. A lovely quiet evening and hardly any disco sound. I think we have to hope for more rain – especially in the evenings!

A tobacco factory in Ciego de Avila and onto Camaguey

Phil's version: Day 100/24 May

 

Allie testing a proper Cuban cigar

The rainy season in eastern Cuba has definitely set in. Between brief stops in Sancti Spiritus and Ciego de Avila, both slightly tired colonial-style towns, we drive through torrential rain so heavy at times I have to stop altogether. Collective chicken farms and ranches dot the flat lowlands. In Ciego de Avila there is a cigar factory in the main street filled with large Cuban ladies fashioning fat cigars if not on their thighs then in ancient wooden moulds. One offers Allie a freshly-made and sweet-smelling cigar through the window in exchange for a Peso.

Normal traffic on the country roads

I am becoming concerned at a sound emanating from the front nearside wheel of our Hyundai hire car which sounds to me like an incipient bearing failure. 

The chances of getting it fixed or arranging a replacement vehicle seem remote, so I check every hundred km or so to try and avoid some catastrophic result. 

After a series of Spanglish conversations with Cubacar Havana and their local rep in Camaguey a bell-boy at the hotel takes me to change the car. When we get there I am told that tomorrow morning I must take the existing car elsewhere for a check. We shall see, but at least they seem to be trying. I ‘buy’ the bell-boy as my Mr Fixit for the negotiations.

view over Camaguey

Camaguey is a big city with an industrial aura. What few attractive buildings it seems to possess are all in need of repair and a lick of paint. Hustlers on bicycles leer at Allie through the car windows and challenge us both on every street corner with offers of (more) cigars or a bicy-taxi ride.

There is only one restaurant with any character and it is full of both locals and visitors – usually a good sign. I need to recover from a run in the rain from the ETECSA Internet shop to what I thought was our hotel but, disoriented by several changes of location in our search, I run three blocks the wrong way before realising my mistake. A Mojito seems in order to preceed a very passable pizza.

Allie's version: DAY 100: Thursday, 24^th of May

Interesting encounters along the road from Trinidad to Camaguey

Disappointment in the early morning: the swimming pool is closed for cleaning. I look for an alternative and hike up the hill to enjoy sunrise over the Bay of Ancon with its huge tourist hotels and the old town of Trinidad. Phil gets a nice shot of an old aircraft at the deserted aeropuerto and then we head out toward the city of Sancti Spiritus. The road isn’t bad and except for the odd horse carts and bus-trucks there is hardly any traffic on the road. Sancti Spiritus offers a few nice old houses, an old Spanish bridge from 1815 and some pedestrian streets under repair.

The Spanish bridge in Sancti Spiritus

We carry on towards Camaguey with a little coffee stop in Ciego de Avila. ‘La Fontana’ has been recommended in the Lonely Planet as THE coffee bar to stop at and indeed we do stop there in the hope to fill up on caffeine. The espresso actually doesn’t taste much better then anywhere else but the price of it surprises us.

visiting the tabacco factory

So we ask why suddenly coffee should cost four times as much as anywhere else (here 8 dollars there only 2). After some discussion between the waitresses we are told to pay only 1 dollar. That sounds cheap we think. But the real surprise comes when we are told to wait for our change which turns out to be 10 Dollars!! Do you get the story? 

We don’t – really. Fabienne and Jean had told us that the local currency is 22 pesos to 1 cuc (convertible pesos), but so far we have never been given in return anything other the the money we are given by the banks.

So we wonder whether there indeed exists a local currency and if, how it works and why there isn’t a large black market or some ‘foreign shops’ like there have been in the former Soviet Union or China. We watch people paying for things and the money seems to be the same. But the prices surely must be different because goods are just about the same price as in the UK. But why do we hardly ever get the other currency? We can’t solve the mystery but we shall surely watch very close from now on what’s happening…

she seems a happy worker!

Ciego de Avila has not much else to offer but we discover a tobacco fabric where I can buy a proper hand-rolled cigarillo off the lady who did the job and we find a ‘paneria’ that sells us cinnamon rolls (or thereabouts) for the local pesos that we have proudly acquired at the coffee shop. 

The countryside here along the ‘Carrtera national’ is pretty boring: it’s very flat with a few rain trees and bushes but not much else. We stop at the tacky looking Hotel Florida to check our tires. Phil believes that the wheel bearings are wrong and is worried about the safety of our car.

empty shops

At 14.30 we drive into the city of Camaguey in the pouring rain. The weather today is indeed pretty awful, rainy and quite cold. But never mind we check in at the ‘Gran Hotel’ which might have been ‘grand’ when it was built in 1929 but looks like its falling apart in the next minutes. 

a few shoes for sale...

Still, it’s supposed to be the best hotel in town. Our room overlooks the pedestrian street with its ‘supermarkets’ and cafeterias. To my utter surprise I even discover a small swimming pool. After a refreshing dip we wander around the streets in order to find an internet café. 

It seems that all the private ‘Cybercafes’ that are mentioned in our book have been abolished and replaced by ETECA. Here you queue for hours with grumpy looking staff and finally buy your 6 Dollars card that will buy you one hour on the net (I watch the lady giving change and she indeed opens up a different drawer to take out my change!).

Whilst Phil does his emails I wander around the shops. The window displays are amazing: here you can buy motorbike helmets alongside with toothpaste, spirits like local rum, cutlery, hair curlers and electric bulbs!

The choice of goods will take you hours to decide what you really want! What we really wanted is some good wine and only by the grace of God we had managed to find some Chilean red wine. The local stuff clearly tastes more like vinegar then anything else.

Empty bar at the Bodega con Cayetano

Having secured a decent evening in our room we go out for dinner at the only decent pub in town called ‘Bodega con Cayetano’. It sees to be THE place where everybody foreign and local meets. Decent background music and a nice choice of dishes and drinks plus some outdoors seating make this restaurant a nice retreat for the evening. Back in our rooms we try the local TV just to see what’s on in Cuban television. Surprisingly enough half of the channels are American, but you could also listen to Deutsche Welle and BBC.

finally in our basic room at the Gran hotel - not so gran!

Driving via Cienfuegos to hippie Trinidad

DAY 99: Wednesday, 23^th of May

Castro posters everywhere

Allie's version: A tedious day with a long drive via Cienfuegos to Trinidad

                                                  

Our last week on this round-the-world tour starts with another terrible sleepless night. Am awake till 3am, try to read, look at the stars and drink more of our horrible Cuban red wine. Nothing helps. At last a swim in the bay gets more half way human. At breakfast we can’t believe what we see: some people pile up break and butter like they are preparing for a 10 years long siege! We wonder where the other guests are from and ask. We are told they are Cubans. That explains a few things. We seem to be the only white people in here anyway, but by now we know why!

not quite our vehicle...

Check out at 9.30 and leave via the coastal road to Cienfuegos. But that was a BIG mistake. Past the little beach where I was hoping to get some more snorkelling (but they charge 12 Dollars for it, so we didn’t stop) the road rapidly deteriorates into a dirt road getting more and more rough and bumpy. 

Anti-US banners everywhere

We decide that it’s only about 15km and that we dare to take the risk to continue. But the road goes on and on. The only living things here are tons of huge red coconut crabs. 

Phil has to drive in slaloms trying to avoid crushing them which actually might result in another hole in our wheels. Finally we come to a military settlement. 

That’s where we should turn off. But where is the road. We stop and ask and the people tell us we can’t go on. The road is too rough! 

We are furious: one full long hour tough driving completely in vain. We have to drive all the way back to our hotel, get fuelled up and take the other major road. The only saving grace is that we didn’t get another puncture driving back and the crocodiles along this swampy area missed their lunch!

City hall in Cienfuegos

Roads seem to take forever here and the countryside is deadly boring. Flat like a pancake, hardly any trees or agriculture it’s just no-mans land. And of course there are again absolutely no road signs. Mr. Castro certainly has to improve some things in his country if he wants to promote tourism. At around noon we finally arrive at the city of Cienfuegos. A heavy thunderstorm makes us escape into the first coffee bar. 

crumbling houses in Cienfuegos

But it soon clears up and we stroll around the downtown area in search of an internet café. The shop tells us it’s open from 8.30 till 6pm, but like so many other places it’s actually shut for lunch, when we come back it’s closed for 5mins but then for another hour! We give up.

Some of the old houses and the square with it’s famous theatre are truly beautiful. But much of it is in a derelict and crumbling state and the palace at the main square with it’s lovely tower is shut because it’s falling apart. What a shame!

An Airport is marked on the map on our way out to Trinidad and of course Phil wants to have a look. We are surprised to find a road sign telling us ‘Aeroporto’. But then – of course – at the crucial junction, all signs are missing and we drive miles past it. Back again asking twice we find it. But it’s devoid of any flying vessels and we carry on. 

School kids in their uniforms and typical trishaw cycle

The lonely plant and our map showing different roads then what the next signboard to Trinidad suggests, but we follow the sign. What else can you do? But for heavens sake, again we end up somewhere else and the f.. signs are missing at the important turning. By that time we have probably already wasted a total of 2 hours and 20 dollars worth of petrol. It seems to me that this is a special policy of this country to get more cash from lost tourists. 

The desolate Playa de Ingles!

I am desperate for my swim, but all we see is horrible marsh land and tacky places. At last we stop at the ‘Playa de Ingles’ and I have a dip in the sea with dozens of Cuban holiday makers staring at me. What a fun! 

My Caribbean dreams of crystal clear blue waters are dissolving rapidly into concrete block hotels, brown rough beaches and fat locals that want money for everything they try to offer you for ‘free’.  

I certainly had enough by this time and am so glad that we finally reach Trinidad.

Trinidad is praised as one of the most beautiful historic towns in Cuba and on of the major tourist attractions. And indeed the colourful houses and the cobblestone pavements are quite pretty. But again we find the place quite dodgy and unsafe. Lot’s of black boys jumping up to our car and trying to get something out from us. We decide to flee to the hill top hotel called ‘La Cueva’. It’s expensive with 80 dollars a night but at least we have safe car parking and a (so far) quiet bungalow with nice views across the bay. 

finally approaching Trinidad

We walk down to the town and wander around the little lanes. All quite pretty with nice restaurants, bars and shops. As we haven’t had lunch we decide to eat downtown at the ‘La Casa de Musica’. Their fish and mojitos are probably the best, the rest of our food is not too exciting. We talk about ballooning in this area and give it a definite ‘no’. The surrounding area is too hilly, it’s too close to the sea and the town itself is nice but has nothing really special to offer to make a rides business successful here.

I am in general a bit disappointed at this stage. We haven’t found a really nice hotel or beach yet. They are all really tacky but expensive, the locals are pushy and you don’t feel safe and the start of the rainy season with it’s heavy downpours doesn’t help to make you feel much better as well.

 

finally a decent bar and a well needed cocktail

Phil's version:Day 99/23 May

At breakfast our mouths drop open at the quantities of food heaped onto individual plates – mounds of butter, piles of sliced Frankfurter-style sausages. 

Surely our fellow guests cannot, as we had at first suspected, be from other neighbouring Latin countries like Colombia or Mexico? They are mostly overweight and look as if they are from the lower levels of society. A brief enquiry at reception confirms that they are all Cubans from either Havana or Santiago.

The electricity is off at the Cupet fuel station so the pumps won’t work but we guess we have enough to get at least to Cienfuegos, some 80km away to the east. 

Allie wants to try for a swim at a beach a few km down the coastal road rather than the main inland route to Cienfuegos. At the beach the tarmac road peters out and a sentry with a uniform identifying him as from the ‘Ministerio del Interior’ is manning a barrier.

He waves us through when we state our intended destination and we continue eastbound along a mangrove-lined and increasingly rough track. Despite Allie’s pleas I soon stop trying to avoid mass slaughter of the hundreds of land crabs scuttling across. After about 30km of bouncing and slaloming we pass another roadblock and enter a remote village where charcoal piles wait to be incinerated. 

A lone petrol tanker, which I had noticed in the rear-view mirror following us most of the way, grinds to a halt so we circle back to confirm directions. The driver firmly communicates that from here on the road is not passable to saloon cars. We are furious and frustrated as we begin the long and futile haul back to Giron where the tarmac road can be rejoined. I am well aware that Allie was only persuaded by a hairsbreadth to make the trip by car all the way to Santiago, and we have just added two unnecessary hours to it.

The whole route seems devoid of and signposting – though we should no longer be surprised – and twice more we lose our way. Cienfuegos is a big and mostly ugly city but with a well-kept central plaza where the opera house was once graced by Caruso. The Internet office here is advertised on the door as being open from 0800 to 1800 but is closed when we try to get in just after 1pm. No explanation is offered by the employees clearly present within. The inhabitants of the city generally look threatening and I am reluctant to leave the car unattended for very long.

view over historic Trinidad

Another seemingly endless drive through barren and unattractive countryside, mainly intermittent sugar cane and heathland or mangrove. There are mountains to the north, but too far away to be a real feature. At Playa el Ingles, an unlikely name if ever I heard one, a very down-at-heel campsite offers a swim for 1 CUC so Allie is soon in the water. The sea looks unappealing here so I watch, as do a dozen equally down-at-heel Cubans.

'downtown' Trinidad with central church

Trinidad is listed as one of Cuba’s best-preserved historic towns, and in a rather unpretentious way it is. Mostly single-storey Roman-tiled row houses are painted all the pastel hues, but the inhabitants who universally sit on the front step are mostly of Afro-Caribbean origin and look glum and vaguely unwelcoming. A few ‘jinteros’ (hustlers) try to sell illicit cigars or home-stay accommodation.

Our first choice of hotel, selected from a 2004 Lonely Planet, is clearly now derelict, so we settle for a characterless but well-positioned motel overlooking the town. A disco is promised but fortunately not forthcoming, whilst the ‘24-hour pool access’ turns out to be 9-5 and infuriates Allie who likes dawn and dusk dips.

 

At least plenty of live music here!

Sunset at a pretty restaurant overlooking the French-looking Plaza Mayor (perhaps influenced by 19^th century refugees from Haiti?) makes the most of the colour-washed streets with their uneven cobbled paving, but there is still an uneasy relationship between the groups of tourists (Dutch, Israeli) from the nearby Playa Ancon complex and the chattering locals.

Exploring the caves and tabacco farms of Vinales

Phil's version of Day 97/21 May          

The hire car, overnight in the hotel’s guarded car park, has a flat tyre. The car park attendant says he can fix it. I suspect him, perhaps unreasonably, of having created the problem in order to earn a few Pesos. An hour later I have had the exchanged spare wheel repaired and all tyres checked and for $10 my mind is at rest, though I fervently hope we don’t ever have to drive far on the plugged spare.

spectacular views across the Magotes of Vinales

There are dozens of caves riddling the limestone hills, called mogotes, which are the residue of ancient caverns once dissolved by underground rivers. One cave even connects a roadside café to a restaurant on the other side of a hill. We decide that commercial ballooning might well be possible here if all the bureaucratic obstacles can be overcome. The valleys between the mogotes are flat and fertile, with fields of tobacco interspersed with pastureland. Tiny farm cottages with unusual roofing consisting of a combination of thatch and terracotta tiles are dotted everywhere together with tall palm-thatched barns used for tobacco drying.

inside a grotto coffee shop

We have a battle to get access to an Internet service which actually works – frustrating as I am trying to finalise two significant ballooning projects before I get home. 

Although Internet access in Cuba appears not so restricted as in, for example, Myanmar, it is still considered a privilege rather than a right of service. 

However, it is at least reasonably efficient when you do get access, and reminds us that in North Korea even foreigners aren’t allowed any kind of web communication.

Allie is back to taking ‘reading walks’ with her British Citizenship test papers and study book. I hardly dare ask when she proposes to take the exams which are her sole (as far as we know) obstacle to becoming a Brit.

There is an old wooden clapboard villa in the town which seems to be the only restaurant with character and after a walk downtown in the rain we are glad to find it is not only interesting but cheap. A young family of Brits and a group of Swiss plus ourselves are evidently the ‘early’ clientele, whilst locals and other Latins arrive to the sound of a guitar and bass trio as we are leaving.

Allie's version: 

DAY 97: Monday, 21^st of May

  A drive around  limestone hills, exploring some caves and the town of Vinales

Our supposedly ‘relaxed’ morning is disrupted by the fact that we obviously have a punctured tire! How that happened, we don’t know. Was it the guy supervising the car park who did it on purpose to earn himself a few extra pesos, or was it indeed something that happened yesterday on our drive to here? Who knows, but we have to get it fixed.
With the help of the hotel guy and a garage, we get the tire repaired and  set out 

selling Cuban flags in downtown Vinales

for a drive around the countryside. 

Our first stop is at the Cueva de San Miguel, a limestone cave that runs through a cliff and comes out on the other side.

It’s a bit touristy with two restaurants on either side, but since it’s early morning we are the only guests. Our main interest in looking at this area though is to see, whether it would be possible to set up a balloon rides business here.

And indeed, we find the area very suitable. Lot’s of possible take off and landing sites, some nice hotels and enough tracks for retrieving the balloon.

We are especially pleased to receive a positive email reply from a guy who runs an adventure company here in Cuba to our proposal of adding the ballooning element to his outfit. The guy is British and has been dealing with Cuba for 18 years. He would be the ideal partner to set something up.

The paintings of Los dos hermanos

But internet is a struggle here in Vinales. The hotels computer is ‘down’ forever and the two internet cafes downtown are just overloaded with people.

We decide to have a rest at the pool and come back later. After another short drive around and a distant visit to the ‘cliff paintings’ (modern paintings in a very crude and tacky way), we finally manage to seize one of the two computers and do our emails.

A heavy thunder storm clears the air and cools the temperature down a bit. Ideal weather for a mojito on our balcony and a little stroll around the hotel paths. 

relaxing by our hotel pool

For dinner we walk the two km downtown to try the ‘Restaurante La Casa de Don Tomás’ which is set in a quite charming old colonial house. We notice a few other foreigners, some Brits, Swiss and Danish. Food is good and cheap and  we both enjoyed our meals.