Shades of blue water

The days have all kind of blurred together.   We're mostly based at Cayo Largo with one day trip to Cayo Rico, where there is purportedly pirate's treasure buried.  The days involve food, snorkeling, a beach, kayaking, and laying around.

Breakfast is at 8 and is fruit (paw paw, pineapple, orange), eggs in a new way each day, and toast.  Lunch is at 12 and dinner at 8.  We've had yummy barracuda, delicious pork barbecue on the beach, an absolutely fabulous lobster (the first that hasn't been overcooked), fish,  salads of avocado,  tomatoes and cucumber, and dessert at lunch and dinner (of varying quality).  As well as mojitos, daiquiris, Pina Coladas, and some things I can't spell.  Cat is a fabulous bar tender.

The ocean is blue.  Dark blue, that bright pale "you're on holiday" blue, and all the shades in between.  The coral is quite dull, but there's some interesting and colourful fish.  I'm quite keen on the Queen Parrotfish and the Queen Triggerfish.  The water looks like it should be freezing, but it's a glorious temperature. The beaches are white fine, fluffy sand marred only by the many plastic bottles that have washed ashore.  There's usually a hotel beach with loungers, umbrellas and a bar within walking distance.

The great blue heron have just started migrating so we've seen a few, as well as great egrets, sand pipers, frigate birds, and pelicans.  We visited a turtle sanctuary and dug the newly hatched turtles out of the ground.  Huge iguanas wandered the floors of the restaurant on Cayo Rico where we had lunch.  Including walking right over mum's feet while we were eating.

There are downsides (I know, you'll feel lots of sympathy).  Our cabin is quite small, and I've been feeling a little claustrophobic down there.  Last night, I woke mum up because I was in a panic and couldn't figure out how to get out.  The toilets are, well, boat toilets.  There's limited water so showers are fleeting.  So all in all, it's been a great week, but I'll be glad to be ashore again tomorrow.

Sailing in the Caribbean

Let me introduce you to the crew.  We'll the crew and the other passengers.   Cat, our Canadian tour leader, Jose the fabulous cook, and crazy Captain Pedro.   They sail us around  (mostly motor), make us cocktails, catch our dinner (dish and lobster),  make our meals, and do our dishes.  I am never coming home.

We have an Irish couple, a Swiss - German couple ,  two German - Swiss doctors, three German lads, a Brit, and us.  We're all currently singing along to Free Fallin after a hard day swimming, kayaking, snorkeling,  walking along white sandy beaches, and a visit to the mangroves.  Apart from the mangroves,  this pretty much sums up the past few days.

It was a six hour stint to get from Cienfuegos to Cayo Guano del Este via a tiny island with some quite good snorkeling.   Guano has a manned lighthouse which needs something wound up every four hours.  All except Jose piled into the zodiac and tried to get ashore.   Willie the dog and Fran, a young lad who works there, were waiting to help us ashore.  The waves were too rough so Fran jumped in and we towed him along behind with the painter.  Willie barked for a while, then jumped in too. 

We nearly drowned Fran, but soon were on the small beach and walking over the mostly rocky island to the lighthouse.  They have a few solar panels, three weedy palm trees, cable TV,  and 234 steps to the top of the lighthouse to see the sunset.

It was a stinking hot day and a stinking hot night.  Our cabin is the "luxury" suite.  It's a bit claustrophobic but I'm told it's much better than some of the others.  With the heat, it was not an easy sleep.

Raining over Havana

Mum bought a book of this post title at the local book market.  I've told her that it is therefore her fault that it's been raining (on and off) for the past two days. 

Our first day back in Havana, we walked all the way from our apartment in Calle 23 in Vedado to Plaza de Armas at the other side of the old town.  And back again.  

Armas is where the antique book market is located.  Mum sat in the park while I went around every stall asking "tienes penguino".  They thought I was nuts until I found a chap who spoke English and I asked him the word for publisher.  They still thought I was nuts.  In the square full of antiques,  the only Penguin I could find was "Confessions of a Working Girl".  I don't think I can navigate the postal system here so it will be sent off to the UK when I get home.

We did a full circuit.  Down Calle 23 to the Malecon, a little inland at Ave de Italia, and then eventually down Obisbo, the tourist shopping street in the old town.  On the way back, we went along Simon Bolivar to Ave of the President's (Calle G).

After a nice long rest in our apartment, our night's excursion was Waoo restaurant followed by a jazz bar.  The burgers were nice (but not as nice as the dinner we'd had sitting on the driveway at El Idilio the night before). 

We were slightly early for the jazz, so joined the queue/mill of tourists sheltering from the rain.  Once inside the surprisingly small jazz joint, we waited an hour for the musicians to arrive and get set up.  Small tip: book at table ahead of time and ask for front row.  Then turn up at 11pm and you'll have time to get settled and get a drink before the band starts.  The music was great, especially with the flutes, but the sound man could have used a few pointers.

"Mum, the weather is a bit crap, shall we take a taxi to the Fort to see the canon ceremony" is where I should have ended the sentence.  But I continued, "or should we walk for miles across the city, get soaking wet, catch a ferry, and walk another few miles".  We did the latter.  So we've seen a lot of Havana in the past couple of days.

I'd like to speak more spanish.  Then I could tell the schoolboys asking for money that they should learn a real profession, not begging.  I could string the hustlers on for my entertainment instead of getting irritated at the constant, "hello, where are you from?"  I could tell the men offering suggestive remarks and sounds that I'm old enough to be there mother followed by a short feminist dissertation. Oh well.  Next time....

The city is interesting.  Not pretty.  Not really even picturesque.  Dirty.  Smelly.  Smoggy.  Broken - the roads, the houses, and sometimes the people.  But under repair (and a health and safety nightmare).  Peeks into doorways reveal a woman on a chair with a jug of coffee a stack of tiny cups.  This is her income.   A small desk to get your nails done (no, they won't sell me a bottle).  Electronic repair shop.  A very clean and tidy car workshop.  A sort of handbag/shoe/toiletries/cleaning products store where I do get nail polish. 

We pass a fruit cart with a fabulous smell of limes.  These are sold to people by throwing a bag on a rope from their apartment window.  Fruit is put in the bag and up it goes.  I think we should institute this at home. 

We finally arrived at the Fort, via a very white statue of Jesus, at about sixish. We had the place to ourselves so meandered through the canons,  saw the sunset, and had an ok meal at the restaurant. The hoards arrived at a little after eight so we secured ourselves a spot at the front and waited for the show to start.  The edge of amateurish added to the event.  One soldier couldn't get his drum secured.  The first canon lighting was a fizzer so they had to light it again.  There was flamboyance aplenty.  It gave me a fright when it did fire.  Very loud.

Then we got a taxi home who fleeced us with the, no you gave me the wrong note trick.  I've decided he has a sick child at home.  Or karma will get him.

God's waiting room

I'm sitting on a rocking chair in the conservatory in our Casa Particulare in Havana.  It's on the 12th floor and you seem to be able to see in every direction from different parts of the apartment.   Can't quite see the Florida Keys from here, but if I was a few more floors up...

We've just had our holiday from our holiday with a couple of nights in a resort on Cayo Santa Maria.  The beach was nice.  We sat in our lounger in the morning, had a little paddle in the waves breaking on the shore (no swimming flags were up), and took a walk along it in the afternoon. My big achievement was finishing a book that I had borrowed from their library.  The pools are nice (there's a bar in one), our room was nice, our view was nice.

I've heard these chain of islands called, "God's waiting rooms".  This is a little unfair, but not entirely inaccurate.  On the night that we had dinner at the Japanese restaurant, we shared a table with some people from Quebec.  They outdo the French when it comes to French arrogance.   Not a word of Spanish, and unwilling to speak any English.  This left our chef stuck with mime and no conversation with the Brazilian couple at our table.  So, I photo bombed their group photo.

Everyone knows Valerie

Usually when I travel and say that I'm from New Zealand, I get blank stares, All Blacks/Jonah Lomu, or Lord of the Rings (the Italians on our hiking trip had Jonah and they attributed the Aussie immigration policy to us).  Here it's Valerie Adams (one woman was devastated when she only got silver).  I love that.  Because Valerie Adams *is* awesome. It is also probably the most interesting thing in this post.

After Trinidad,  we had a night in Remedios. It's a very nice, very very small town.  We have walked nearly every street including a wee jaunt into the countryside to see the concrete slab making factory (mum made me take a picture for Trevor).  But really everything is in the main Plaza with its beautiful big trees and restored old buildings.  

Our hotel was in one corner and it was very nice.  The waitress took a shine to us so our cafe con leche came with a jug of honey and a bowl of carab chocolate.   It was the highlight of Remedios.

The main attraction is the church in the square which has your usual Catholic collection of slightly gruesome iconography,  a tromphe d'oeil ceiling with tulips from one direction and Jesus from the other, and the only pregnant statue of Mary in Cuba.  She's also doing the flamenco.  There was a second church under serious reparations but we poked our head in the door and the workers waved us in and ensured we admired Mary outside in the garden.   One of the workers had put her out there and made a little cove for her.

The food at the hotel was mediocre, but we had a very nice house red wine.  El Louvre was good for a basic Pizza, and La Paloma was excellent for lunch.  We even had the entertainment of a largish German group arriving.

At the beach

I am writing this from our beach resort in Cayo Santa Maria.  There's not a lot to say about here (swim, lie around, eat, drink - it's all included) so I should catch up on our last couple of days. 

We had two tours as part of the trip in Trinidad.   The first was a night tour on the Friday night.  Julie, our guide, walked us around the night spots.  A replica of La Floridita from Havana, a replica of La Bodega del Medio where the bar woman had won a competition for the best mojito (they were very good) - apparently many places make them with the cheap white rum when they should be made with the three year old rum. 

We meandered past a number of other options while chatting with our guide (she and her husband live with her mother and are saving for a house, and a confrontation between the French and the Americans over the queue to the tower that nearly came to fisticuffs).  We had a quick look at the Casa de la Musica on the plaza steps and then on to a spot where the old folks hung out.  The music was lively and everyone stood and danced and clapped for several renditions of Feliz Compleanos.  Another mojito, not a good as the first.

More meandering.  The disco in the cave is up above the town but "we're too lazy to walk", there's a salsa bar off the plaza but "it's for young people, no where to sit", and back to the Casa de la Musica where the Afro-Cuban show was in progress.  Julie somehow scored us primo seats and we watched the show.  There are two brands of beer in Cuba, Bucanero and Cristal, which is apparently  calls a "girls' beer."  I don't really like beer, but I like Cristal so I had that.  And then home in time to be in bed by midnight.

We were quite excited about our full day tour on Saturday.   We'd got it in our heads that we'd catch the train to the Valle de Ingenios  (mills).  We must have got that wrong because it was sadly just a taxi.  One stop at a viewpoint and another at Manaca Iznaga to climb the tour and look at the embroidery market.  I had expected that we would see more but we were then back to the town where we visited a potter, a crochet shop, a casa particulare with lots of antiques and a friend of our guides, the art gallery - a nice old building and when I peeked into a no entry area, an artist at work.  Next, the museum which our guide took us through in tedious detail.  Mum climbed the tower while I had a sit.  We'd been walking forever and my legs were protesting. 

I took over the itinerary next and we stopped for an iced coffee at Don Pepe, a bit more wandering then lunch at San Jose restaurant which was very nice.

After a relaxing afternoon,  we had tapas and a Pina Colada at El Dorado (ok, but at 1 CUC very good value).  We had intended to stop by La Redaccion for another tapas but I screwed up the navigation and mum made me go to bed hungry.

I flew 32 hours to get to Cuba and drink a chardonnay in Trinidad

Trinidad is quite a small town and I'm pretty sure we've wandered up and down most of the streets.  We've staying at Casa Juani, and it's very nice.  Upstairs with our own private terrace again.  The roosters are a little annoying early in the morning.

We've had two days with nothing planned so the first day we wandered the streets and visited a potter.  In the afternoon we caught a taxi to Playa Ancon.  As we left, it started to rain.  This turned out rather well as all the people had been scared off the beach so we were able to get beach loungers and a sun shade right on the beach, and the sun returned about two minutes after we arrived.  The water was heavenly - mum complained that it was too warm!  I mostly just floated about 10 feet from the beach so I'm not sure you can really call that swimming.

You can get good food in Cuba, it's the same price as all the other mediocre tourist fare, but you need to do your research.   Which we did.  La Botija the night we arrived had great tapas but terrible service.  La Redaccion for a lunch of tapas and sangria was fabulous (toast with blue cheese and tomatoes, avocados and shrimp, or something spicy and shrimp; and bread with a tomato salsa, a guacamole,  and a chickpea spicy dip).   Dinner after the beach was Vista Gourmet with great views over the city.  The salad buffet was very very nice, my lobster was the best we've had (apart from the ceviche in Havana) but still not as good as Darryn's, mum's pork was a bit dry, and the dessert buffet was a bit of a let down.  The restaurant is renowned for its sommelier so we decided to order one of the recommended wines.  They were out.  Instead they bought us something similar.  A chardonnay.   A nice chardonnay, but I would have preferred something a bit more exotic.

For our second free day, we organised a hike with a guide.  Three Italians,  two Germans, us, and our guide (Luis) piled into two four wheel drive taxis and headed for the hills.  Parque Guanayara is where we ended up via a viewpoint.  Luis was quite knowledgeable about the flora and fauna and we stopped regularly on the walk for another bit of information, went into a cave and saw bats (mum did, I was too busy climbing rocks), and stopped at a waterfall, El Rocio.  A few log bridges later (just like Dirty Dancing according to one of the Germans) and we were at the swimming hole.  The water was very "refreshing" - no complaints about warm water from mum today. 

We headed back the way we came (uphill, lots of steps) and drove to lunch near a health hotel/spa. We'd seen and heard about coffee plants on the walk and we stopped in at a coffee "museum" on the way home.  I've always imagined that coffee beans grew like green beans - in a pod.   But they're actually the seed from a berry (which I'm sure you all knew, but it came as a surprise to me).  Cuba grows Arabica coffee beans which have the best taste but relatively low caffeine.   The coffee at the museum was perfect. A no sugar coffee.

Lunch had been quite large, so we had tapas at La Redaccion again.  Yummmmm.

In Vinales without my mojo

We're having a fabulous time in Trinidad. We had a great time in Ceinfuegos.

Vinales did not start well.  The taxi picked us up from Las Terrazas at midday and I slept much of the 2 1/2 hour trip with my feet up.  When we arrived at our hotel in La Ermita, the guy at reception was very unhelpful but we eventually got to our room (via a visit to the doctor and a jab of vitamin Bs in the butt for me).  The pool is open to anyone with 7 CUC and it was quite disgusting, and the food is mediocre at best.   The sunset views, however,  are fabulous.

As per my sister's instructions (and due to quite a bit of discomfort in my legs - which is much better now), we couldn’t do a lot of walking.  I think I've already written a blog about our first day there.  On the second, we had a tour booked of the Vinales highspots.   Most are very touristy - I think the best thing to do in the area is the hiking.  We had a trip in a boat in a cave (fun, but kitch) and the at the restaurant at the end of the 12 minutes was best pork we've had.  We had an interesting visit to a tobacco farm, had a few puffs of a cigar, and got horseshit on my shoe.  Some nice views.

Driving the countryside in Vinales and on the long trip to Cienfuegos the next day was very interesting.   

The city of a 100 fires

A hundred fires is the literal translation of Cienfuegos and I was looking forward to the story behind the name.   But it is just the name of a governor of Cuba back when the Spanish were in charge.

This was our first Casa Particulare  (homestay/B&B) and I was a little nervous about what it would be like.   Better than any of our hotels.  Our room had its own private terrace on the roof, and views of the ocean which was on our front door step.   We spent the afternoon seeing the sights of La Punta which consited of an old Moroccan looking house with 2 CUC entry and a free cocktail on the roof and a park at the very end of the point where we watched fishermen from the rotunda,  had a sandwich, and then a cocktail (well I did - a Pina Colada ) and watched the sunset. Dinner was at the Casa where the food was okay and the band was great.

Cienfuegos is famous for its old city so we flagged a bicitaxi in the morning and wandered around through the sights.   An interesting theatre, a cathedral, a museum and the outside of dome nice and slightly delapidated old buildings.  The market street was quite nice and we got a horse and cart taxi home.  The horses can't go on the main roads so we had quite a nice detour through the suburbs.

With some time to spare before our taxi to Trinidad, we stopped in at Villa Largarta.  They had no free tables for lunch, so we sat at the bar with the biggest daiquiri you've ever seen and the ubiquitous complimentary banana chips.  The setting right on the ocean is fabulous and the meals looked very nice.

We enjoyed Cienfuegos but and afternoon and a morning was enough time to see the highlights of the city itself.

The day we got hit by lightning (we're fine)

This is not going to be an easy post to write.  I doubt it will be a pleasant post to read.  For those who just want the bare facts: we got hit by lightning while sheltering in a security guards' hut.  We went to hospital and got checked out.  Everything is fine but we can't do too much walking.

For the record,  if you're in a thunderstorm:
- stay away from huts and shacks, and buildings without sides like pavilions
- a large building is best but stay away from windows, tvs etc and taps, sinks, plugs
- don't use telephones or anything with wires (I think cellphones are fine)
- outside, stay away from tall trees - if you feel your hair stand on end or your skin tingles, crouch down with your feet close together and hands on knees.  Do not lie down!

If you come across people who have been hit:
- check those who are not moving first - CPR can often revive people
- bones can be broken
- get them medical attention asap
- beware of people going into shock

Part of me feels this post should stop here.  The day was terrifying and a man died.  It is not a story for entertainment.  But I need to get the words out of my head, and this is not a story I want to retell over and over when I get home.

The day started well with a taxi from Havana to La Moka Hotel in Las Terrazas. Even though check in is usually at 4pm, our room was ready when we arrived just after 10am, and it was blue skies and sunshine.   So far so good (mum and I saw the Magnificent Seven before we left - if you've seen that, you'll get the joke).

Mum wanted to do the zip line. I was a little hesitant,  but if mum could do it....  There are six cables and we did them all.  The person who sold us the tickets said max height was 30 metres which doesn't sound much until you're up there.  The first one was scary.  After that, they were great.  Whizzing over trees, the swimming pool at our hotel, and two across the lake.  And we were way better at it than the mostly male group of Turkish tourists.

The walk back up to the hotel meant that we had a little bit of a glow,  but this was soon fixed by a mojito and a swim in the pool.  I think mum would have stayed there all afternoon but I'd read there were some great pools in a river ( Banos de San Juan).  The hotel recommended a taxi but it was only 3.5km walk and it was brilliant sunny weather.  The walk was pleasant and we sat down to lunch at a riverside pavilion restaurant.  

At this point the rain started. Undeterred, we went for a swim and I had a nice chat to some Cubans visiting from Havana for a birthday.   The rain hadn't let up and the restaurant couldn't call us a taxi so we headed out to the security at the entrance.  They had a radio to get a taxi and ushered us inside.  There were six of us in the hut and it was quite a squeeze.  I don't remember if the thunder and lightning started before or after we went inside.  I know one of the security guards was scared of the thunder.  This is the point that we should have realized that the hut was the worst place to be.

I remember the world going white, Mum saying "are you alright", and then falling.   I'm not sure how, but I knew I had been hit by lightning and I thought I was dead.  No flashing of my life before my eyes, just thinking that at least mum was ok (she must have been to ask if I was ok ).

I had been standing by the door and I'm not sure if I fell causing it to open or the other way round.   I'm not sure if I blacked out. I don't remember any pain. I remember sitting up and realising I was still alive.  My feet felt like pins and needles times a thousand and my calves felt numb.   I told mum to come out of the hut (she had been forced to the ground by the lightning) and we sat there slapping our calves trying to get the feeling back.  At some point, I realised that we were still to close to the hut and we bum shuffled further away.

One of the security guards was screaming.  Another was down on one knee leaning on another Cuban man who was lying down.  A Cuban woman, who I don't think was hit was very upset.  I tried to get them to come out of the hut, and the woman tried to pull the man lying down but couldn't manage it.  One of the security guards looked at me and said something while making the sign of a cut throat.  I realised that the man lying down was dead.

I didn't know that CPR would probably revive him.  I was too afraid to go back into the hut.  My legs were useless.  I was worried about mum and me.  I was terrified.  None of these seem good enough reasons.

The woman finally took off back the way we came to find help.  The security guards began to yell for help in earnest and we realised that there was a small house nearby and joined in.  About the same time that a man came out of the house, a car started out of the parking lot.  We were sitting on half the road and waved them to stop.  It was another lot of tourists who spoke English.   I could not have been more relieved.  We explained what had happened and the driver got out, looked at the dead man, got back in his car and drove away.  I cannot describe how this felt.

Another car came out of the parking lot and also stopped.   Again we explained what had happened and they asked if we needed help.  A car came up behind them and beeped and they started driving.  I was terrified they were going to just leave us there, but they stopped again.  Some people had arrived to help and were trying to put one of the injured security guards into the car that was going to help us.  My heart sank and I tried to make myself feel good that at least he was getting help.  But he was waved on to the car in front and  the car door opened to let us in.  I bum shuffled to the car and mum, who now had her legs back, helped me crawl in. 

The story should be all good from here.  But the thunderstorm was still going strong.  We reached a dip in the road that was in flood.  Chantal, our Swiss driver braved it with trepidation. 

Most of you won't realise that I am ten foot tall and bulletproof.   When I was young, they told me girls can do anything and I believed them.  I was smart, good at sports, and I beat the boys in arm wrestles (yes, I was also very much single).  I've never lost that feeling of being able to do anything.  But facing this flooded road, I knew that without my legs I would not be able to save myself let alone anyone else.  I think we clapped when we made it across safely.

Fortunately,  Chantal speaks Spanish and explained to the hotel staff what had happened when we arrived back at the hotel.  I had to be carried out of the car and I ended up lying on the ground in a kind of big gazebo.  At this point, I think I went into shock and started shivering.   They got me a blanket and I sat there as they drove off to get the doctor.  Then came back to take us to the doctor.

I'm not sure where all the people came from, but when arrived at the doctors,  there were four men to carry me up the two sets of stairs into the doctors room (it looked more like a locker room).  Luckily, Chantal stayed to translate.  At one point, I looked up from the bed, I realised that the room was full of people all looking at me, including one of the security guards from the hut and the poor woman who had lost her husband/friend/family member.  They checked mum and me, tried to give mum a pill to lower her blood pressure, and then told us that the ambulance would now take us to the hospital but there was no bed.

I had imagined a van with some nice comfortable seats.  Yes, it was a van.  There were four plastic seats like you find in some bus stops in which the two security guards, Mum and I sat.  A security guard's wife (Maria?) sat on the wheel hub opposite him holding his and and another man sat on the floor.  I was still freezing and we'd left the blanket in the car.   Mum had got my hoodie and her jacket from our room so I was wrapped in those and still shivering until Maria told them to close the windows.

More men carried me out of the ambulance and onto a gurney.  I saw the dimly lit ceiling and they wheeled me into a cold room where we were given an ecg.  Chantal and Basil from the hotel had followed in her car and again translated.  Two blankets later and I was still cold so took off my wet clothes.  I wasn't concerned as there was only women in the room, but apparently lots of people were peering in the window so it was a hold the blanket up manuoevre.

At various points people entered the room to check out how I was doing.  Maria was great.  They took me off for x rays and Maria and Basil wheeled me in.  Maria helped me with my top to maintain my modesty in front of the male doctor  (I was beyond caring and I'm pretty sure he got an eyeful anyway, but it was nice of her all the same).  She also stroked my hair and said something in spanish that was reassuring I'm sure.  Arm x-ray, head x-ray.   The doctor checked them and gave the ok,  Then mum's turn for head x-rays.

Then I was wheeled into another room with six small hospital beds, five of them full.  A man who I think was an orderly tried to lead me to the spare bed.  At this point, I decided to make a break for it.  Hospitals make me sick.  I feel woozy and weepy and I know that I'm never going to feel better.  The orderly is trying to explain that he wants me to get into the bed.  I'm walking in the other direction shaking my head and saying no.  I got myself out the door and leaned on the wall to get myself outside and onto a little bench seat.  Freedom Braveheart style.

Mum helped me walk up and down a little and I felt better just having the fresh air.  We had to wait ages before they checked our x-rays again and they let us leave.  Chantal drove us back to the hotel where we bought her and her friend dinner. 

We left for Vinales the next day and saw another doctor there who prescribed ibuprofen and various vitamin Bs including a jab in the backside for me.  It really hurt.

My wonderful sister did some research for us so we know that everything we're feeling (my legs feel really uncomfortable and I need to put them up often) is normal.  They've been getting better everyday but I won't be running any marathons for a while (ok, I've never run a marathon and never intend to).

Where cigars are born

Today is Sunday - I think it's mandatory to be lazy so we have been.  A lie in, breakfast looking out over the valley and the ranges followed by a bit of a morning nap. The maid arriving to clean the room put an end to that so we ordered a taxi (Perico who had been our taxi driver yesterday too). 

First stop was a casa that we had read organised tours.  Fortunately a guide (Fidel with a much smaller beard) was free - well he was about to head off mountain biking and agreed to take us to a tobacco farm instead.  With his bike stowed in the boot, off we went down the pot hole filled tarseal road and then a clay farm track.  Perico navigated easily between pedestrians, mopeds, horses, bikes, mud pits and large caverns in the middle of the "road". 

The tobacco farm is in the silent valley and Fermin sat us down in a covered outdoor table and bought us mojitos (not quite lunch time so perhaps a little early) and offered us a cigar.   Then it was the story and demonstration of tobacco making.  Fermin spoke very slow spanish for us which we partly understood and Fidel translated the rest.  Farmers must sell 90% of their crop to the government but they keep 10% for themselves to make their own cigars.  Each family have their own recipe that the leaves are soaked in: rum, fruit juice, camomile, honey, etc.

We parted ways with Fidel as he was off to map a mountain biking track for tourists.  Mostly he gets lost but he's starting to get more familiar.  We asked Perico to take us to a restaurant looking out over the valley (Balcon de Valle).  There is no menu, but you get the option of various meat and then a multi course meal of salad and banana chips, soup, main with three rices, and pineapple and bananas.  We were seated on a terrace that is a health and safety nightmare, with chickens, turkeys and cats milling around stepping on our feet and generally being a nuisance.  We amused ourselves trying to take pictures of some kind of bird of prey that kept soaring in front of us.

We're back at the hotel and contemplating another nap.

Riding in cars with boys

This post title was the name of a book that I read for my thesis about the undertones of feminism in a male dominated culture.  Mum and I sitting in the back seat of an awesome orange convertible classic car while our male driver and guide sat in the front seats was a bit like this.  We were headed west to the modern part of the city wind in our hair and sun shining on our backs (shoulda brought sun screen).

First stop was Revolution Square where Castro addresses the masses - once for seven hours straight - and likenesses of Guevara and Ceinfuegos adorn various government buildings.  Next we hit the suburbs and stopped at the urban forest.  Apparently ritual sacrifices are common here so there's a bit of a smell of dead animals.  Onto Fifth Avenue where most of the embassies  are.  Then to the Hotel Nacional which has great views along the Malecon and a long list of famous guests.   There's a couple of canons there installed by the Spanish to keep away the Americans.  More importantly,  Enrique bought us a mojito here.  A good mojito not the awful sugary crap we'd had in our hotel on our first day.

While we drank, we had a good chat about Cuban life.  Before the crisis of the 1990s the average  wage was 300 a month and there was a decent exchange rate.  Now most people earn 30-50 a month and the exchange rate is diabolical.   That's not enough to live on so the black market and a barter system prevail.  Chef X brings home the leftover cheese and ham, which he person X who has money from tips buys off him.  Jobs with no fringe benefits are very hard to fill as people are no better than being unemployed.

We drove along the Malecon to our final stop.  We'd been here the night before as we'd wandered the darkened streets looking for a recommended restaurant, Castas and Tal.  The cocktails here are magnificent and cheap.  We'd had a Mary Pickford at out hotel earlier which was pleasant.   At C&T I had a daiquiri which was divine (like a lime sorbet in a pool of alcohol).  Mum's Pina Colada was "almost as good as the one Janice bought in Vanuatu".  The food there wasn't bad (which means quite good for Cuba) and the service was excellent.  We walked home along the Malecon with the waves crashing over the wall and locals hanging out.

But back to our tour today.  It started with some small drops of rain that were quite pleasant but got quite a bit heavier so we stopped to put the top up.  Once we (our driver and guide) got that done, it stopped raining. We left our driver behind at the edge of the old town and Enrique gave us a tour of the museum of the city.  There are some rooms full of old furniture (a bit like Buckingham Palace), some old coaches, and some revolutionary war stuff.  Here we learned the origin of the Cuban flag.  Way back when, some Cubans wanted to become a state of the US so they made a flag a lot like the US one but with only one star.  The US then had its Civil War and abolished slavery which didn't appeal to the pro-US faction as they were largely landowners who relied on slavery. But the flag stuck.   #Irony

It was then goodbye to Enrique.  Left to our own devices we had lunch at Donde Lis.  Hallelujah!  I was a little dubious as it is away from the main restaurants and in a street that smelled.  But the coffee was great and the food a-maz-ing.  I had lobster ceviche and croquettes that I think we're made with curry.  Mum had grilled lobster which was nice, but doesn’t compare to Darryn's.

We stopped at the museum of fine arts on the way home (the Cuban Art location).  It's very pro-Cuban/anti-American, some quirky art, your standard religious art, portrait art, abstract art.  I did like the coffee pot castle in the cafe.

We've just been for a swim and are relaxing before dinner tonight at LA Torre del Oro in our hotel.  Tomorrow we leave for Las Terrazas.

Up and down the streets of the old town

Today was our first organised tour with Enrique taking us for a walk through the old town.  As you can imagine, there's lots of old buildings, a police station built to look like an old fortress so it blends in, some cathedrals and some very nice squares.  Pretty much standard as far as old towns go.  Some of the highlights:

- Plaza de Armas with its annually renewed wood cobbled road (a tradition started back in the day because the lady of the house couldn't enjoy her siestas due to horse hoofs on stone), book stalls, and man selling peanuts in rolled up paper cones
- Plaza Vieja because of its tremendous transformation since the 1990s from ruins to dilapidated charm.  The city historian seems to be a very powerful bloke.  When Russia and the Eastern European bloc fell in early 1990s, Cuba's economy was devastated.  Rolling power blackouts were the norm, food was so scarce that our guide remembers being allowed one piece of sweet potato bread a day, water and sugar for supper and vitamin pills being issued to stop people getting sick.  The country was opened up to tourism to rescue the economy and restoration of the old town a big part of attracting tourists.  The money earned from tourism in the old town goes back into restoration projects and social improvements.
- the many courtyards that you can catch glimpses of as you wander the streets
- the statue called "the conversation" and many other artworks and galleries
- the mix of tourism and every day life.  You're just as likely to find a primary school as a cafe in the many squares

We decided to treat ourselves to coffee at one of the nicer hotels  (Iberostar).  Whilst the coffee and ham croquettes were very nice, the service was atrocious.  We found much better service and excellent food at O'Reilly 304 for lunch.   We shared a Peruvian ceviche (almost as good as one from Peru ), empanadillas  (nice, but nothing to write home about), and some to die for tacos with chicken, guacamole, capsicums, some other stuff and freshly squeezed lime.  We also watched as various cocktails were made - and noted that we'll go back for one of those!

Our afternoon outing was to the Museum of the Revolution.  It's pricey and mostly just pictures of various events and a few artifacts scattered round the place.  There were a number of women prominent in the revolution and it was pleasing to see their virtues extolled alongside the Castros,  Ceinfuegos,  and Guevara.  It's mostly in Spanish with random English translations but I got the gist.  There's a list of all the terrible things that the CIA have done,  including treating the clouds with chemicals to make the sugar cane crop fail.  Seems quite far-fetched but I haven't read enough to know if it's true.   The two highlights were first caricatures of various US presidents and second the tank that Fidel apparently sank the US ship Houston during the Bay of Pigs.  Not a mention of the Cuban missile crisis.

I am never flying long haul again. Ever.

It started well at the Air NZ lounge in Auckland with chaise lounge like chairs, brandy and a nice lamb tagine.  Premium economy on the flight to LA was bearable with an empty seat neat to me so I managed to put my feet up and sleep in 45 minute blocks.   It all went horribly wrong at LAX when we did a tour to Terminal 1 and Terminal 6 where we came up empty handed and returned to Tom Bradley where we sat in a cafe for several hours until we were able to check in at Terminal 6 and hang out in the Alaskan airlines lounge.  Nice lounge but not worth it for the 1 1/2 hours we had.

Flight to Panama and then Havana was hideous.  Airline was fine (but it's no Air NZ), but I was so tired and couldn't sleep.  Fortunately Havana airport was a breeze.  They all lost interest when they saw our NZ passports.  There was a man waiting for us with our names on a sign (I've always wanted to be that person) and we were soon in an air conditioned taxi into the city.

Traffic was a mix of Ladas,  small Japanese and European cars, an assortment of bikes and work vehicles,  and the ubiquitous classic cars in various states of disrepair.   I was quite impressed with the count down timers on the red and green lights.  Very sensible.  We went past loads of buildings and statues that I'm sure I'll learn more about in the next few weeks.

After a nap, a second nap, and a cold shower, we hit the streets.  The covered boulevards led us to Cafe Louvre in the Hotel Inglaterra,  the oldest hotel in Cuba according to the guide book.  The cafe is on a wide covered terrace, there's a band playing, and the world is going by on the street right next to you (including a guy with a parrot on his shoulder selling pictures - we'd just yesterday read that Havana was an old pirate town back in the day).  Toasted ham and cheese sandwich  (apparently we're going to eat a lot of these), salad of avocado, cooked carrots and beans, sliced cabbage and cucumber with no dressing, and cafe con leche.   I doubt my food posts on this trip are going to make my sister envious like they have on other trips.

Then it was back to wandering the streets into the old town, taking pictures, avoiding "land mines" (dog poo), and saying no thank you to many offers of a taxi.

We had our first scam attempt with a couple asking mum to take their picture with her camera and then email it to them.  After a bit of a chat, they asked for soaps and shampoos from the hotel.  We politely said no and made our farewells none the worse for wear.

Now we just need to stay awake until a decent hour.