Across Cuba to the Bay of Pigs!

DAY 98: Tuesday, 22^nd of May

farewell to Vinales

Allie's version: driving along the Autopista Nacional to the historic beach of Giron

We give it an early morning start at 6.30. Sunrise is beautiful over the rugged hills and we both dream of flying across it with a balloon. It would be such a perfect place for it! The return drive back to Havana is unspectacular and after 2 hours we hit the city not knowing which exit to take to get to the bypass. We are blind guessing which exit or road to take and only by the grace of heaven we manage to be on the right motorway out of town. What a relief! 

street scene in eastern Cuba

But somehow this whole business of not having ANY signposting to anywhere makes me angry. There Mr. Castro wants to get cash from the tourists but he doesn’t even help them to find the simplest tourist sites (and there are more such struggles just waiting for us to come!).

The other thing we notice is that nearly everybody tries to make some extra money of us: like the parking guard this morning washing our car in the hope of a tip, or later at our coffee stop a guy starts to play his guitar in the hope of some extra cash, or at the museums the people trying to be your guides even though they hardly speak a word of English. But we found a nice trick to get rid of pestering sellers or guides: when they ask you 'where're from' you just say you are ‘Aleman’. Since nobody here speaks German they will immediately give up their chase and leave you alone!

small war memorial along the road

After being 5 hours on the road we finally find the exit to the famous Bahia de Cochinos (‘Bay of pigs’) and stop at the Museo de la Comandancia at Central Australia. This used to be a sugar mill built by the Australians in 1904 but has been converted to a little museum to commemorate the great event in 1961. It was here that Castros revolutionary troops managed to defeat the invasion of the US and Nicaraguan Army.

On April 14^th  1961 some 1400 soldiers had sailed from Puerto Cabeza in Nicaragua to here in order to fight Castro. But within only 72 hours they had lost 200 men, 1197 were captured and 11 planes were shot down. A great victory for the Cubans which is celebrated until today as we can vividly see in form of posters and signboards along the road. 

not the most attractive of all beaches

We actually wonder why President Kennedy had chosen to invade the island from such an unsuitable point. Everywhere here is just marshland and thick hostile crocodile swamp. No wonder the Yankees didn’t succeed. This little museum has nothing much to offer except the relics of a hardly recognizable aeroplane and some old photographs. We drive on.

The road finally reaches the bay of Pigs and I catch a first glimpse of a beautiful blue and clear Caribbean sea. Can’t wait to get into the water! But we still have another 30km to go till we reach the Playa Giron and our hotel for the night: the Villa Playa Giron. Well, a villa is something else I would say. This turns out to be a holiday resort for lower class South Americans and we are told that our 80 dollars for the room is ‘all inclusive’!

our all-inclusive club hotel!

My God, I would never have dreamt that I would end up in an ‘all inclusive’ holiday resort. But here we are in the middle of nowhere in Cuba wearing a blue wrist band.

We both can’t believe it but it’s true: when we go to the bar and order a beer – we indeed don’t have to pay, and even more surprising, when we come back to order a second round, our glasses are just filled up without a notion. Phil already thinks that this is great and that we should from now on always spend our holidays in some all-inclusive resort in Spain! I think that this would mean immediate divorce.

Nevertheless, we go swimming and even try some snorkelling. But alas the waves are too high and there aren’t much corals around to see any fish. What a pity, because that water actually is lovely clear and deep blue. I try to find some peace and quiet to read at the beach but first there aren’t any loungers and second the music and noise from screaming kids from the pool kills every hope of tranquillity. Never mind. Maybe we just have to drink a bit more…

Allie braving the waves at the Bay of Pigs

Dinner is set as buffet in a square box restaurant with grumpy waiters that make you feel you shouldn’t be here. But we obediently eat our spaghetti and minced meats and drink our pineapple juice (wine costing extra of course!). Time for a digestive walk. Phil takes me out to the other revolutionary museum just outside the hotel (an aircraft on display) and interestingly enough the night porter opens the doors for us to let us have a look around – for sure putting the entry fee in his own pocket. Nothing special here too but we made a man happy earning a few extra dollars. Later on we make ourselves happy -  isn’t this deal ‘all-inclusive?’.

Phil's version: Day 98/22 May

Allie is keen to set out early on what promises to be a long drive via Havana to Playa Giron, the infamous Bay of Pigs – another piece of history I recall from schooldays. All the guidebooks warn of Cuba’s hopeless road signage (or lack of it) and finding our way around what passes for Havana’s ring road was the first challenge. 

not quite your romantic holiday hide-away!

Finding Cupet (the national chain of fuel stations) is another challenge as there are very few and they are rarely marked accurately on maps so fuel planning becomes critical. We found our way onto the eastbound Autopista by guesswork and after nearly 150km of driving out of Havana made a similar chance decision on the turn-off to Giron. 

Phil getting ready for a refreshing dip

Our plan to visit the museum marking Fidel’s headquarters during the brief CIA-sponsored invasion campaign of 1961 is nearly thwarted by another complete absence of signage and a nearby distracting shed full of restored steam locomotives. 

The museum, when we found it, was most uninspiring, consisting of a few faded monochrome photos and an anti-aircraft gun which presumably was responsible for the unidentifiable aircraft wreckage lying outside.

Another 40km along a mangrove-fringed road studded with memorials to the revolutionary defenders who died in action. At Giron itself is another, more comprehensive museum, to mark the location of the failed landing. It has an aircraft and armoured vehicle outside and a well-presented story inside.

The roads, though unsigned, have been in reasonable condition for the whole journey so we are checked in by lunchtime. The hotel turns out to be of the ‘all inclusive’ type which offers full board and unlimited bar consumption.

The other guests are mostly from other Latin American countries such as Colombia & Venezuela and seem to revel in loud poolside music, young children and large quantities of rum. The disco is scheduled to begin at 11pm. Neither Allie nor I have ever experienced such a leisure environment and are unlikely to seek it out again, I suspect.

 

Don't you dare to escape from here! Police patrols out at sea

Sneaking out of our blue identity wristband compound we find some rather poor snorkelling nearby but are entertained by the Cuban Navy whose patrol boat comes close inshore and individually questions each of half-a-dozen fishing craft no doubt with a view to discouraging attempts to escape to the Cayman Islands only 300km south of here.

A series of free Cuba Libres (which I felt I had to try for the first time in my long drinking life) sent me to sleep over the sound of American classics booming out from the dance floor. Sinatra might have soothed me but Allie has her worst night of the trip, not sleeping until 3 a.m., apparently.