Drunk on the Big Island

Havana and Playas del Este

The long-awaited date has finally arrived, November 5th has arrived, the moment to touch down in Cuba has arrived after 11 hours of flight. A destination desired and dreamed of for a long time, fascinating for its history, its traditions, its culture, and for being one of the last social-communist bastions in the world, at least that's what I believed?

Having disembarked at around 22:00 at the Jose Marti International airport in Havana, we are inebriated by the mugginess that makes us forget the 15 Roman degrees we were enduring just a few hours earlier; the thought and excitement, however, are immediately outclassed by the exhausting queue at immigration control, an organ as meticulous as it is excessive; the procedure drags on, uselessly, at the counter with an official who looks at the photo, looks at it again, then scrutinizes me carefully, then begins to ask me a heap of useless questions like: "what is your name?", "where do you live?", "why are you in Cuba?", "how long are you staying?", "where are you sleeping?"? And to think that the Lonely Planet finds this experience "exciting", I'd call it ridiculous to say the least? Once outside we find a taxi that will take us, for a good 25 Euros (half would have been enough, but the "fl

eecing" at the start is obligatory, and unfortunately it won't be the last) to the casa particular that we had booked by email some time ago, our Cuban adventure has begun?

HAVANA The first casa particular, located in the Havana Centro area, belongs to a lady named Martha, kind, affable, perceptive. We arrive late and therefore give up on making the most of the night, preferring to shake off the 6-hour time difference that separates us from the motherland. The next day we arm ourselves with backpacks, camera and water, and with map in hand we dedicate the day to wandering around the "capital of all Cubans" as a sign posted along the streets reads. Centro Havana, el Malecon (the seafront), El Capitolio, the Old Havana, Plaza Vieja, Plaza de Armas, Plaza de la Catedral, Chinatown (watch out! there isn't even a shadow of Chinese people since they all left with the advent of socialism and the impossibility of developing private activities).

Havana reveals itself to be a true open-air monument, everything is historic, everything is beautiful, a pity that, apart from the Old Havana, neglect turns into shacks homes that in any Western country would be valued as museums and would do honor to these neighborhoods, now abandoned to be little more than dirty and run-down outskirts. Throughout the whole route we are targets of the phenomenon known as "jineterismo", dozens of people attempt an approach, in a friendly manner but with an eye on our pockets full of tourist dollars, and of course sooner or later we fall into the net. His name is Adrian, 24 years old, he says he works at the cigar factory which today, Sunday, is closed, he offers to accompany us around, he shows us places we perhaps wouldn't have found on our own, he's kind, he speaks a little Italian, he's available to answer my curiosities, perhaps over a mojito.

We sit down, we order 3, twice, final price 24 euros, a blow!! We decide to eat something, he takes us to a rather squalid sandwich shop, a guy tries to barter his "Che"-style hat, two sandwiches and two beers 11 euros, damn!!! It's not over, for the afternoon he offers to show us the Casa de la musica, the place is fascinating, the live salsa too, a pity that he shows up with his wife in tow, 20 euros total for all of us to get in, the blow is complete. We return to our accommodation rather disheartened, Cuba at least for now (but we'll discover later, for the whole trip) is as expensive as Rome.

For the evening we don't lose heart, from my months of research on the internet I have the contact of a private driver, Ernesto comes to pick us up outside the house and takes us to a not-bad venue, Il Caffe cantante, live music, salsa, Raggaeton, the most popular music among young Cubans, a mix of reggae and salsa played electronically, it's the commercial wave advancing.

The second day in Havana is all about the sea, with Ernesto we go to Playa del Este, the most popular beach near the capital, the sea is spectacular, we get sunburned and listen to the chatter of too many Italians, at least for my taste? In the evening we find a little restaurant, Chan li Po, in the Chinese quarter, lobster at 5 euros, not bad at all, and afterwards Ernesto takes us to a street full of venues in the Vedado area, the modern part of Havana, the one made of big hotels, tourism and therefore more modern discos.

Havana disappoints us, not for its aesthetic aspect, but for that of the chaos and the costs, we decide to abandon it, we'll dedicate the last day to it before leaving, now it's time to change coast, we take a Viazul bus that will escort us towards the south, towards Cienfuegos?

Cianfuegos

CIENFUEGOS Let me preface this, I'll be biased in this paragraph because Cienfuegos has stayed in my heart, beautiful the place, the city, the sea a stone's throw away, the mountain just as close, the people friendly, the calm of a city not too beaten by tourism, I'm inclined to ask why?, everyone ready to run to Varadero, the apotheosis of the commercial, the anti-Cuba, and in my opinion one of the most beautiful destinations on the island is skipped, a mystery of mass tourism?

From the trusted Lonely Planet I choose the first of the casas particulares listed, Armando y Eleonor, the place is really nice, they're two lovely and very kind people, devoted to socialism as it appears from the countless photos of the lider maximo hung everywhere, I'll have the chance to chat a bit to confirm the trust in a system of government that seems outdated to us, but that someone still seems to appreciate, and not a little. In the evening to do a couple of dances we go to the nearby "El Benny", an indoor venue, there are few people, and therefore little fun.

The second day we dedicate to the sea, Rancho Luna is only 10 km away, the beach is enchanting, fine light sand, sea with countless shades, beautiful seabed, straw umbrellas to lie under, it's a little paradise. In the evening we change venue, we go to the disco Alte, finally we're talking, open-air, spacious, live salsa, lots of young people, we have fun, a lot?

For the third day, thanks to a friend of Eleonor's, we find a private driver who takes us to nearby Santa Clara, a monument city dedicated to Che. The journey is a calvary, crammed into a 127 that at every pothole struggles and stalls, it's a not rare situation in Cuba, where the regime imposes one car for a lifetime, generating that great museum of vintage cars, particularly Chryslers, that you see driving around every day on the streets. Somehow we arrive, we visit the mausoleum dedicated to Che, the tomb, and then a tour of the central square, Plaza Vidal. At around 15 we're home again, I take the opportunity for a walk to punta Gorda, 3 km there and 3 back, it's exhausting but beautiful, and anyway I spent the afternoon.

In the evening after yet another abundant dinner we go to bed with the idea of a pre-outing nap, we forget to set the alarm, and of course we fall into hibernation, the night is gone?

We're now at the 4th day here, unfortunately the last, probably a record given that the average tourist stays no more than one night, from the Lonely Planet and on the advice of friends I decide to take a rather unusual trip, for 50 euros to split between two I have myself taken to the Nincho, a lake located in the central mountains, the little boat escorts us over the immense body of water stretching lengthwise among waterfalls and dense vegetation, first we stop at a beautiful waterfall where you can swim, then at the mouth of the Rio Negro and then still at the actual Nincho, a walk on the hills, among vegetation and small villages where we are looked at like UFOs, until we reach yet another waterfall, you can also opt for the horse, for those obviously who know how to handle it, advisable moreover given the particularly rough road and the length of the route.

We're not lucky with the weather, and when the sun is covered, sometimes the sky lets fall rapid but intense downpours, and the muggy temperature quickly drops forcing us into our raincoats. On returning home we're exhausted, it's late afternoon, we get to know yet more housemates of the casa particular, after two Italians, two French, two English, Hanna and Dotty are Dutch, it's the gathering of the European Union. In any case we find each other likeable, in the evening we go together to the "Cotè d'Azur" where dancers perform typical Caribbean dances, and we arrange with the girls for a ride the next day in their rented car, destination Trinidad.

Trinidad

TRINIDAD We arrive in Trinidad in the afternoon, all 4 of us find a house together, and we decide to immediately visit one of the most sought-after destinations by world tourism, and I soon understand why. If you're looking for a typical Spanish-colonial-style town, perfectly preserved, fascinating and unsettling, you're in the right place, Trinidad captivates you, its little streets constantly going up and down border truly characteristic scenes, the houses are well preserved in the central part, colorful and lively, and the people are particularly friendly, ready with a smile, a photo or why not a chat.

Trinidad's casa de la musica for the evening is located, I believe, in one of the most suggestive locations I've ever seen, the charm of the place, with the background of the rhythms of the Trova (typical Cuban music), recalls equally, or almost, the emotions that the Spanish Steps in Rome on an evening in the capital could arouse, and for a born-and-bred Roman like me to say that means you can trust it.

The next day Hanna and Dotty leave us, their time in Cuba is over, Alessio and I take the opportunity for a quick pro-shopping tour of the city, we buy a flag of the Isla Grande, a disposable camera, the art of bartering leads me to exchange two shirts and a swimsuit for a box of Coibha siglo 6 with 25 cigars, and 3 boxes of Romeo Y Julieta with 5, maybe I got a deal or maybe not, I'm no cigar expert, but the packaging they come in is beautiful, it'll make decor and will be a great gift to bring back, and after all Trinidad is the capital of traditional Cuban cigar production, so where else if not here to buy.

The day continues with the sea, Playa Ancon is quite close, the sea is beautiful, but the place is very touristy, which translates into expensive, a small water 1.50 euros? The evening offers probably one of the most suggestive and peculiar venues I've ever seen, the place is called "disco Ayala" but everyone knows it as "la Cueva" (the cave), the name is no coincidence, the disco is about 30 meters underground, in a real natural cave, where the mugginess is excessive but seeing something like this around is more unique than rare.

We spend another day in Trinidad, we decide to change beach, we have ourselves taken to a strip of sand carved out among kilometers of rock, the place is called "Diente de Perro", I had found it on a forum during my research, and I must say they weren't wrong. It's very peaceful, at most we'll be 7 on all 30 meters of beach, the seabed is really beautiful, the coral reef invites long and fun swims, I also spot a moray eel, it's the best place for snorkeling I've come across so far.

For the evening we decide to look for a paladar, the one chosen from Lonely is closed, we stumble upon another, shady and very hidden, but where I probably eat the best fish and the best lobster of the whole vacation, sometimes fate helps us? We continue with a quiet evening listening to salsa at the casa de la musica and then to bed, the bus leaves early the next day and the journey will be long, destination Holguin.

Holguin

HOLGUIN

About 6 hours to reach the destination, Holguin is probably the city I got to know best of all, which welcomed me willingly or not for a good 5 days, where I leave a friend, countless acquaintances, and which made me savor in some respects some truly Cuban realities. The wealth of parks and squares is the central characteristic of this location in eastern Cuba, we spend the first day visiting them all, parque Cespedes, parque Callisto Garcia, parque Marqueda and Peralta. While wandering we stumble upon the person who, as I was saying earlier, will perhaps become one of the few people I'll remember from this trip. His name is Jorge Luis, but everyone calls him Padilla, his surname, a dancer, 28 years old, happy to live in Cuba, his land, unhappy with a regime that doesn't allow him to express his ideas, to travel, and why not to live a bit more decently.

He immediately declares himself a fanatic of Italians (especially of Laura Pausini, poor us!!) and as such he shows us places and explains typically Cuban methods that we would never have understood on our own, he tells me to learn the Cuban way of life because only that way can you save enormously. Precisely on this saving streak he shows us a couple of paladares where you pay in Cuban pesos (one is called "la Mandraguegna" right by Parque Garcia, the central square of the city), and the story changes, 3 of us eat for 130 pesos (not even 5 euros), he teaches us the art of bartering, the possibility of getting around using the means they use, the bicitaxis, the horse carts, the trucks, the local buses, with a dizzying saving to say the least.

He even invites us to his house, a house animated by many friends who come in and out as they please, in perfect Cuban style, full of friendliness and cheerfulness, in the house people dance, sing, listen to music, chat, everyone considers us friends from the start, comrades, it's a strange, different, beautiful situation.

Another acquaintance deserves the afternoon's attention, sitting quietly in a bar I find myself involved in a conversation with a German, and I soon understand his intentions only too well, his name is Tito, at least 45 years old, well-off, he loves to stay here for 5 or 6 months a year, he starts by telling me that with women it's not a problem for tourists, but that the real PROBLEM is that for some years now if, "unfortunately", you get caught with an underage girl, fifteen or sixteen years old, if not younger, you risk big, even jail, I feel like I'm in the video of the TV show Le Iene I saw some time before, which exposed two pedophiles in Southeast Asia, I'd be inclined to smash a chair over his head, but I hold back and decide to leave, I've seen quite a few scenes like that up to here, convincing myself that the god money can't be beaten, and that infamous people like this have ex

isted, exist and will always exist, unfortunately? It's now late afternoon, we decide to take a break, go back home and meet up again with our new companion a few hours later for the evening at the disco. The disco is called "Cristal", it's not bad, even though too Western, people dance, sing, drink and get to know each other?

For the second day Padilla takes us to a beach, playa blanca, for Cubans near nearby Guardalavaca, another sanctuary of world tourism, and on the way back he shows us the neighborhood festival of Freye in honor of Santa Lucia, the rides to say the least from before the war make us laugh, the safety systems are practically nonexistent, we take the opportunity to nibble at all the stalls, pizza here, sandwiches with pork there, peanuts somewhere else?

We're already ready to leave, tomorrow a bus for Santiago, we thought we were leaving Holguin for good but instead we don't know that we'll come back again two days later, to be with our new friends, and because after all once you reach Santiago there's nothing truly relevant left to see in Cuba.

Santiago de Cuba and Holguin again

SANTIAGO

If you ask an Habanero what he thinks of Santiago, he'll answer the worst or almost; if you ask a Santiaguero what he thinks of Havana he'll do the same; in short, there's no love lost between the two largest Cuban cities, between one chat and another I come to discover that the rivalry isn't just sporting—the two most important baseball teams are from these two destinations—but it's really a question of prestige of one over the other. From how it had been described to me, Santiago was supposed to be, and it turned out to be, fascinating, certainly I liked it more than the capital, but also dangerous, and on this point I feel I can debunk the myth, it's no more or less risky than the other cities on the island, the center teems with police which means, an excess of tranquility.

After leaving the station and resisting the first assault of the wheeler-dealers, all with casas particulares available for every taste and need, we inevitably rely on a private driver, a certain Enrique, we exchange a few words with the one who says he's a mathematics professor at the university, and who takes us to a friend's casa particular, the owner, Mrs. Maria, is very nice and helpful, with a little dog that does nothing but jump on everyone looking for play, we decide to stay. We dedicate the first day to wandering around the center, Parque Cespedes, Plaza Dolores, Plaza Marte, Plaza de la revolucion, the enormous Moncada barracks, we snack around and in the evening we have dinner at home.

After dinner, ready to go out, we see Enrique pop up directly with 3 girls, he says they're his students, he's already organized everything, he asks us to choose which one we like, the whole thing seems incredible to say the least, we haven't quite got into Cuba's mindset yet, but here it seems perfectly normal that the tourist explicitly takes care of how to spend the night in the best way within his means, especially economic ones? He takes us to a piano bar that I certainly won't remember for fun or beauty, we obviously pay for everyone, including the professor and the one who will become his consort, 30 euros plus drinks, we fell for it again?

The next day Enrique, after leaving the girls at our house at a good hour with the intention of coming back in an hour or so to go to the sea, gives us one of the most stratospheric flakeouts in history, we find ourselves playing dominoes with two of the girls, savoring what, along with chess, is one of Cubans' favorite pastimes. At 16:00 we can't take it anymore and decide to take a walk, practically retracing the streets of the previous day. In the evening while walking around the square we meet Padilla and a friend who have come to visit us, with the intention of taking us back to Holguin, we spend the evening with them at the Irish club, a small pub with a billiard table, very quiet, very Cuban, they convince us to come back for a few days to Holguin, and on returning home, they take us to the house of a childhood friend of our friend.

We savor the Saturday of real Cubans, home, music, fried platanito, hospitality like I'd never seen before and rum, rum, rum?

HOLGUIN

For the return trip we obviously opt for economical means, we're at the end now, also of our available funds, first a sheet-metal truck that gets scorching under the sun, then a local bus where someone vomits out the window due to an excess of morning rum, someone eats rice, someone gets off and grabs a soup on the fly from a house on the road, sharing it with the driver, all obviously mixed with the countless times the bus breaks down and has to be repaired, it's a journey of hell, but told now it's what truly represents the lives of Cubans, every day. Nothing particularly relevant to narrate about the two extra days in Holguin, simply by getting the return timing wrong we limit our chance to visit Camaguey, which I'm told is pretty, we take a Viazul bus that in 13 hours takes us directly to Havana, where we arrive at 3 in the morning for our last Cuban day.