And Trinidad had us for another day.

It was clear now that our travels wouldn't take us much further afield and I was intrigued by the word Cayo. I figured that the North American "Key" was the same word, but it was still a new concept with a new word to me. So I wanted to see one, and the tour to a cayo south of Trinidad, on a yacht, including some snorkeling in coral reefs seemed too good to be true. It was pricy, but it sounded like a perfect day made in heaven and eventually we overcame renewed ...   more »

This is where it all ends. My Cuba diary that is. I stopped writing, couldn't keep up anymore. Why? Too much happening I guess! The last few days were truly special and it's such a shame that I can only retrace them now, months later. But they are the best to share, so even if the following two or three entries don't come across as immediate and are a bit contrived, I'm sure they'll be worth reading anyhow. By now it was clear we liked Trinidad and wouldn't get to see much more of Cuba, but at least we'd see Trinidad properly. The tours on offer were an ideal way of exploring the surroundings in a friendly atmosphere and the lack of tourists at the time meant that they were undersubscribed and that bit extra special. Day four finally held the Valle de los Ingenios for us. In spite of    more »

Exitement was the start of the day. Our first tour booked, we finally were headed for some organised adventure. Today took us to the promising Topes de Collantes. This is the name of the high mountains north of Trinidad, so high, that we expected some relief from the heat.

Our landlady had recommended taking a jumper as it tends to be cool up there. I was one happy camper about this prospect, especially after the second hot night without much sleep in spite of the many fans in the bedroom.

We boarded an army type jeap, a massive vehicle, and ...   more »

Exitement was the start of the day. Our first tour booked, we finally were headed for some organised adventure. Today took us to the promising Topes de Collantes. This is the name of the high mountains north of Trinidad, so high, that we expected some relief from the heat.

Our landlady had recommended taking a jumper as it tends to be cool up there. I was one happy camper about this prospect, especially after the second hot night without much sleep in spite of the many fans in the bedroom.

We boarded an army type jeap, a massive vehicle, and ...   more »

Trinidad is more than a charming town full of contradictions. It is full of history of what made Cuba, and its surroundings are not jsut varied and offer plenty of activities, but are steeped in history. The beach is only a stonethrow away, as are the mountains to the north, and behind them the valleys of sugar plantations.

The plan was to catch a local train to see the Valle de los Ingenios, the centre for sugar plantations which made Trinidad and with it, Cuba's, wealth. We had an early breakfast and were at the train station in time, but ...   more »

We've spent the last three days in and around Trinidad. It's a marvellous place, full of contradictions, hard to make sense of, but maybe sometimes we don't need sense and reason and should just let ourselves go in the stream of life around us.

We were greted by the usual throng of people upon our arrival. Accommodation offers galore, and other services as well, held back by a rope to protect, well, not quite sure whom. It almost felt like the tourist sheep were being protected from the Cuba wolves, and I felt a bit sad about this unfriendly rope ...   more »

Yesterday was spent travelling from Varadero to Trinidad. No taxi offers in Varadero - my suspicion is that this is either because the state is in control (hence no casa particulares either), or that because everybody already works in the tourist industry, teh desparation for dollars is less strong. So we're spared both hassle and adventure and board the Viazul bus like good tourists.

The bus journey was scheduled to take six hours but took almost seven. It's not the distance, that accounts for the long trip, but the system of Viazul buses. As there are only very few lines, and very few buses serving these, Each route attempts to serve as many towns as possible - including those not exactly on the route. So the bus stopped at every town in the general direction of Trinidad, iven if getting there meant a significant detour. Still, the bus was almost empty, and I wondered whether this was simply not yet tourist season or if  the whole system itself was flawed - too expensive, most tourists would either be on a package trip and have no need for the Viazul, while backpackers tend to be more adventurous and check out cheaper transport options.

For us, of course, the detours were an extra. We saw th eChe memorial in Santa Clara, got taken all around th etown, passed through Cienfuegos and other places and benefitted from a suicidal ride along the bumpy coast road from Cienfuegos to Trinidad which almost redilivered breakfast and lunch together. It was really rather astonishing that we didn't land upside down in a ditch. I consoled myself with my subconscious positioning skills, bang in the middle of two emergency exits and passed the time making up escape routes for each individual toppling over. Did I every commend the driving attitude in this country? My stomack being right churned and turned, I was very torn indeed between proximity to emergency exit and the smell emanating from the loo. In the end, it was the bumps that made up my mind. Movement was simply not advisable, so I stayed on and suffered.

Just as interesting as the passing landscape, or even more so was the north American free spirit sitting next to us. Fallen straight out of the late 60s, tattoos, batic trousers included, I was impressed by his ability to maintain his style into a relative hgh age and would have liked to have found out a bit about him. His colourful appearance was not matched by willingness to share personal history though, instead our short exchange focus on our provenance and a number of recommended reading about Cuban history, Che, Fidel. Apparently, he had stocked up on 20 books on his trip, all publications hard to come by in the US, but hard to ignore in Cuba. Enthusiastically, he explained how a whole new perspective on Cuban history had been evoked by these book and presented itself to him.

Trinidad being small, we bumbed into him again. Again he made some recommendations, but otherwise eluded conversation.
In Trinidad, I lost it. Events and impressions took over and I couldn't keep pace with the writing. It might have been a magic spell cast over Trinidad - who knows.

We couldn't believe our luck in Varadero. Both in the centre of town and so close to the beach, close to the bus terminal, in a cheap but perfect hotel. Varadero isn't an exciting town, but it has enough to offer to keep you happy, with the largest craft market we'd seen so far, plenty of restaurants, bars, and above all ... beach. The peninsula is 30 km long but only 400m wide, so the beach is never far. And it didn't fall short of the promises made: endless perfect white sand on the western seafront of the peninsula, lined with palm trees and beach bars. Such a long beach that tourism hasn't taken over, although this would probably change once Cuba opens up to official US American tourism. For now, the beach simply isn't crowded. No beach dealers, boat hire or other activities. It's a quiet paradise, no loud music disturbs the peace. The water is clear and turquoise blue. A pleasant breeze makes the temperature pleasantly bearable. The town of Varadero isn't commercialised, but maybe quite commercial for Cuba. It's got a number of restaurants, a post office, two banks, libraries and tour operators, even working internet cafes. Yet it isn't crowded and the pace is very relaxed. There were very few foreign tourists but later I realised that this was due to the town being mainly Cuban, while package tourists tend to frequent the big hotels at the tip of the peninsula. Apparently, here in the town of Varadero, the hotel and tourism staff of the hotels live. So we shared hotel, restaurants, and beach with Cubans rather than whitelings like us. In spite of the warning about the pricy nature of the place, this was not true inthe town. We had the cheapest meals of our holiday, the best cocktails and even couldn't resist to try lobster - the only place where it was affordable for my wallet.

We extended our stay which says it all. The plan was to go on a boat trip but by the time this idea had formulated itself it was far too late to book. In fact, apparently the tour was booked up for the next week. No matter, we took a taxi to the tip of the peninsula anyhow, and entered the world of all inclusive tourism. Still the same beach, just lined with massive, soulless hotels, pink skin and golf courses. The Marinara on the eastern coastline changed from stone front to swamp like inlets in vibrant green colours, with boats, yachts and ships speckled about. It looked grand and yet not quite appealing.

The dolphinarium came recommended as it makes use of such a natural habitat, a water inlet, which gives the show a much nicer feel than in other places. It was a good, entertaining show, and sure enough, the dolphin trainers were happy enough to let us stroke, photograph and kiss the dolphins for an extra few dollars. The swim with the dolphin was out of our financial reach though, and indeed, it didn't look like it could be worth the money. Extra money had to be paid for taking photos of the show too, but in the end, nobody really checked. Just another trick to get some more money, but it was definitely worth it.

We were unwilling though to pay another extortionate taxi fare and went to the next bar to find alternatives. We obviously were getting into the swing of things and just opened our mouths and waited for offers. Well, in fact, we asked for public transport. That didn't exist, but the next empty tourbus was happy to take us along for a few dollars, so we had a whole bus for a taxi. Everybody happy and better off again. Next was an exploration of the craft stalls. Being spoilt from Mexico, it was disappointing, but we were in the mood and bought plenty of useless stuff. The problem with Cuban crafts is that the same item is sold at almost every single stall, and that most items have a big script of place and year on it, or a very tacky image, or something else revolting. Two strong mojitos alleviated the negativity and we bought the rubbish anyhow. Cuba seems to win the prize for cheesiest souvenirs.It's either wooden boxes, figurines or dominos, all with "Cuba" written on it. Or you get cheap and boring braceltes, Che Guevara T-Shirts or caps are never out of sight either, as are colourful paintings of cigar smoking old hags, cars/planes/mopeds made out of beer cans. It was only later in Trinidad that we discovered traditonal crafts which were based in crafts in use for everyday objects, such as handwoven baskets and needlework. Neither of them was very fashionable, but at least it had a story to tell and spoke of handcrafted skill creating objects of use.

A quiet look at the objects of desire is impossible of course. Even a tentative look towards the stall will cause the shopkeeper to storm forward, praise his goods incessantly, followed by a strong and determined grip of my arm, not to be loosened until I've parted with my precious dollars. It's quite farcical really and counterproductive. I feel an obligation to tell them that such keen behaviour may scare potential customers away, and that restraint might be the key to a more successfull business with the less outgoing European mentality. But maybe I'm simply wrong.

Somehow I had been convinced that the tourist resort of Varadero is worth a visit. So I tried to throw away my suspicion and go there with open eyes and mind. At the same time, I clearly remembered how the travel agent in Glasgow had maintained that Varadero was Cuba's only airport and that if all flights there were full, well no-one else would be able to get us anything either, as everyone would be using the same system she had logged onto. And flight only isn't possible to Cuba either. Ah right. I only had to walk down the ...   more »

Ok, I'm going to go into minor obversations territory now, but there has to be a place and time for them as well. There is this very strange noise Cubans make, it sounds like they're trying to speed on a fictitous horse they're not sitting on, a monty pythonesque habit of making a strange noise with lip, tongue and teeth. Why? After a week I figured out it was to attract someone's attention, a person's attention more like, and that nobody was taking me for a horse or a ride. It's very disconcerting because you just can't help but feel ...   more »