Cuba - Notes

In the plaza this morning, there were lots of young local men and women sitting around as if waiting.  A stern looking older guy in army uniform came over and barked a couple of words and they all got up and gathered around and listened while he spoke to them. Turns out they were army recruits getting their assignments somewhere in Cuba for their two year service.

Everyone on motos wears a helmet, must be a law, but no one does on bikes.  Cuba is known for its lack of crime and they are known to be very strict  with some things, like drugs or crimes against foreigners but not so much with driving.  People often drive a high rate of speed on small residential streets, testosterone fueled stuff.

Tobacco is king.

Handshaking is a big deal here primarily among men.  Reminds me of what I've heard of Arab culture where everything stops for the handshake (only men).  Here, you can be in the middle of a transaction with someone and a guy will crash right in and do a handshake and big greeting. Cars passing in opposite directions will stop and reach across to do the big handshake.  It's like a ritual greeting for a club or secret society.  

No such thing as a satellite or direct tv dish here but there is cable TV for the "lucky" with about 10 channels available, some from the US surprisingly.

Much transport is done by horse carriage in Viñales.  These are drawn by small, well groomed horses that prance along at a rapid gait.  One afternoon I sat on the front porch and watched them go by, as well as other street activities.

                   https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HlckI1kWoDU

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=88R1HLbdveA

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NDvKdhTv3vE

Getting a free lunch

But you need some good strong oxen to pull a dead cow.

 People young and old work hard

And sew it goes

Cuba - Viñales cemetary

I made an interesting discovery this afternoon when I walked up to the false Valle de Silencio with the intention of watching the sunset from there.  For reasons I no longer remember, I abandoned that plan and continued on the main road.  On a whim, I followed a tree lined, well groomed road that ran off the main highway that I was walking along.  The road ended at a wall with a gate and and looking through the gate, I saw that it was a cemetery.  There was no lock on the gate and not a soul around so I gingerly opened it and went inside and there were the words, “Panteon de Los Caidos Por la Defensia”, cemetery for those fallen in the defense. The fallen soldiers. 

No one was in the cemetery, no one alive, that is, and I wandered around the graves in amazement at this deserted, tranquil place in the mountains. 

 The martyrs of the homeland

I wandered through the rows of mausoleums and graves for a long time. 

I assume this is where they prepared bodies for burial.

A mother's letter to her fallen son

 En paz descanza - rest in peace

Afterwards, I sat on a bench in the shade at the entrance and enjoyed the cool breeze. 

A passer by

This was without a doubt the most tranquil place I've come across so far in Cuba.  

Leaving the cemetery, I continued along the main road, encountering a bunker-like building containing pesticides.  

That was surprising in light of what I'd heard about the non-chemical farming.  

Further along was a school and that was surprising too as I was a long way from town.  

I think there might have been a military component.  

It was very secluded and quiet up there which was a nice change from practically everywhere else I'd been.  That was driven home to me as I returned to town and into the hubbub. 

Cuba - Viñales con't.

After my experience with the bogus Valle del Silencio, I pedalled through town in the opposite direction, through some little neighbourhoods 

and encountered a road leading off to the Finca (ranch, farm) Rene Rivera.  Rode down there and was welcomed by the owner.  He was cooking his dinner over an open fire, a rice and corn mixture, stirring with a wooden stick, then showed me around the farm, all organic. 

Rene boasted about his fine tobacco, 90% less nicotine, walked me through the papaya, yucca, avocado, mango and coffee crops, mostly out of season. 

 Lovingly puffing one of his stogies

 The tobacco barn

 

Yucca 

Then he began to elaborate on the system where the government gets 90% of everything and he gets 10.  As he went on he became more impassioned about the life of campesinos (farmers) and the inequities.  He has a six months old daughter with health problems from poor nutrition.  The much lauded health care system wasn't working for him. He wore rags essentially and his dirt floored house would be suitable for chickens.  In the back of my mind I wondered if this was another scam and his Mercedes was parked out back.  But I don't think so.  I left feeling quite disturbed.  Vive la revolution.  

Leaving the farm I continued cycling out of town with the intention of visiting 

Here, back in the plaza in Viñales, watching all the scammers and jiteneros, hustling young tourist girls, just hanging out trying to work any sort of scam, whistling and shouting.  I feel like you can't trust anyone who is friendly, or just approaches you for any reason.  Asking directions can be perilous. 

Things I like: uncorrupt cops, high incidence of electric motos particularly in Viñales, Estellita, my host, the beauty of Viñales.

Cuba - The real Valle del Silencio

At the casa I met a very nice couple from Slovenia and we had a good talk over dinner.  It turned out that they had discovered the real Valle del Silencio by a fluke the day before.  Like most activities and attractions in the area, there is little information or directions unless you hook up with a guide.  In fact, in the park, you cannot hike independently.  You must hire a guide. But my Slovenian friends, Miha and Vanya agreed to show me the way so, in the morning we rented bikes and headed out the highway to the turnoff to Valle del Silencio where they left me with directions to negotiate the network of roads to the valley.  Right away it was obvious by the numbers of foreign hikers and horseback tours that this was a well traveled tourist route.  Nonetheless, I managed to get off the track and wound up following a series of dirt roads that dead ended at a farmers field.  

Backtracking, I found my way by following a group of hikers.  The way meandered through fields and beautiful countryside, crossed streams and eventually led upwards to a high point where there was a wonderful view of the valley.  

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3XhlubLcojM

Tour groups ended their excursions there and so the silencio was mitigated by the chatter of languages from all over the globe.  On the way down from the valley, I encountered a beautiful garden belonging to an old man who naturally asked where I was from but didn't try to scam me!  

The next guy I ran into did the stereotypical “where jew fron?” And I knew he was up to something.  Sure enough he had fossils to show me and did I want a cigar or some rum? and he would instruct me on the history of the area.  He was professor Raymundo and an expert.  Sure, maybe tomorrow.
 

 

 Tobacco fields forever

Got back to the casa for a rest and a beer, then headed back in the other direction to a “Prehistoric Mural” by a Cuban artist allegedly influenced by Diego Rivera.  It covered the entire face of a cliff and it supposedly depicted humanity’s evolution.  

I was absolutely flabbergasted when I saw it.  I thought, this has got to be a joke.  It was really pathetic.  And the tour buses and taxis were lined up.  Put me in mind of PT Barnum.  Step right up folks.  

But as I continued cycling along a back road, the landscape again saved the day.

I came to a mirador (viewpoint) and stopped to admire the landscape and, sure enough, along came a young man with the, “hola, where jew fron?” bit. Time to go home.

Cuba - Viñales

A four hour bus ride west from Havana, Valle de Viñales is a UNESCO site and the best example of a limestone karst valley in Cuba.  

It's a beautiful place and consequently draws a lot of tourists.  Getting off the bus, I was confronted by a group of very aggressive women touting rooms to rent. I literally had to put my head down and butt my way through them.  The place I intended to stay was booked up but they said their mother had rooms also so we jumped on the guy's electric scooter and headed to mom's.  (Electric scooters are very popular in Viñales) 

  
Mom was Estella, a quiet, sweet elderly woman with a couple of rooms in her lovely small home.  

I wasn't sure this was the best option for accommodations and was a little put off by the electric shower head so only booked one night.  After wandering the few blocks into town and seeing what else was on offer, I went back and booked Estella's for my entire stay.  Downtown was one of those typical backpacker scenes: bars with American names, storefronts touting every sort of tour and activity, ATVs racing around and scammers on the prowl.  Almost every house in town advertised accommodations.  

In addition to the tranquility at Estella's, it turned out that she was an excellent cook.  I wound up eating every meal there except for trying out her daughter-in-law's cooking one night which was also good but not as good.  I would rate her chicken dinner as one of the best meals that I've ever had.  Sorry no photos of it.  I was too busy eating.  All the meals started with fresh, fried plantain chips followed by a big delicious bowl of hearty bean soup, often with pork or chicken, and a nice salad.  That would have been more that adequate but then the main course came:  options of beef, pork, fish or chicken.  The chicken was my favourite.  It's hard to describe how she prepared it, a big leg of chicken, maybe sauteed with herbs and spices, tender enough to eat with a fork, surrounded by pan fried sweet potatoes and potatoes.  Oh so succulent!  Dessert was offered as well but I could never finish the dinner much less eat dessert.  The amount of food served seemed excessive to me until I remembered something I'd heard some time ago.  This was that the Cubans don't eat the same food they make for the tourists and that the leftovers from these huge meals supplement their diet.  I don't know if this is true but would help explain the quantities.  

One of the places that Lonely Planet highlighted was called Valle de Silencio, the Valley of Silence, reputed to be a tranquil retreat from the busyness of the popular tourist areas.  There were no directions for getting there but I thought I had an idea from looking at a map so I rented a bike and set off to find it.  I followed the main highway for probably 10 kilometers through beautiful farm land and between the limestone karst formations called mogotes.  

I saw no indication of the Valley and finally asked a number of different people where it was.  The most consistent answer I got was that the turnoff was all the way back in town, nowhere near the direction I`d gone.  Except one taxi driver who said there were many Valle de Silencios. So I pedaled all the way back to town, lots of uphill and headwinds, and asked Estella where the Valley was.  She seemed very certain and gave me directions.  Back on the bike for a steep uphill for a few kilometers until I saw the sign to the Valley.  Eureka!  I followed the rutted, dusty dirt road steeply down, down, down and wound up at a cheesy tourist place on a man made lake that called itself Valle de Silencio.  This was it?  If it was, it didn't deserve the hype.  So I walked and pedaled the bike up that road, becoming covered in dust from the horse and car borne tourists until I reached a little restaurant where I stopped for a beer and chatted with some locals.  The guy who lived there had a little gazebo type thing where he proudly showed the flowers he grew. 

I was a bit hungry and asked if they had a snack, just a little something and I wound up with another one of those huge meals very like what Estella made though nowhere near as good.  Totally satiated, I pedaled back to my casa, full but without seeing the real Valle de Silencio.