From Havana to Santiago de Cuba

Departure!

Departure from Venice at 1:00 p.m., about an hour late compared with the scheduled time; landing in Madrid at 3:45 p.m., due to congested traffic at the airport we have to circle a few times before landing. We're off to a good start! From Terminal 4 we have to move to Terminal 4S; fortunately in the IBERIA in-flight magazine on the plane there was mention of an electric train connecting the two terminals, otherwise it would have become even more difficult to find it, having just over 50 minutes to transfer from one to the other and board the plane for Havana. The intercontinental plane departs right on time at 5:00 p.m. and after a flight of about 9 hours and 30 minutes lands at 8:30 p.m. in Havana (local time – 6 compared with Italy).

Wow! The heat is suffocating even at this hour! Fortunately at the airport they are waiting for us to transport us to the hotel: 2 taxis will take us to our destination, at least we hope so, the start is not the best. The taxi that is supposed to take me and Nicolò won't even start! Great start! The journey to the hotel is traumatic: the vehicle fleet is indescribable, there are no rules except to keep moving at all costs, motorbikes carry at least two people, in cars they fit everyone who can possibly be loaded. Along the sidewalks hundreds of people wait in the dark for a ride. Bicycles without lights are a danger to those driving cars, so you drive in the leftmost lane and overtake on the right.

The smell of exhaust fumes is indescribable! We arrive at the Hotel O' Farril around 10:00 p.m.; it may be a 4-star hotel by Cuban standards, but it really leaves a lot to be desired: some rooms, including our two, have no windows, it feels like living walled up in the room! Around midnight, after a short walk in the hotel's surroundings, we go back in and try to take a shower but SURPRISE! There is no hot water and the air conditioning set at -10 degrees doesn't allow us to take a cold shower, so we dry off and go to bed! As already mentioned, the air conditioning is deadly!!! There are at least 20 degrees of difference between the inside of the room and the outside. When I leave the room my eyeglass lenses fog up! So for Cubans this counts as luxury? We wake up at 4 in the morning; back home it's 10:00 a.m.

Now the hot water flows freely, so we treat ourselves to a nice shower; but how do we make it to breakfast time since it's about 5:00 a.m. and breakfast can be had from 7:00 a.m.?

La Habana

Before breakfast we take a walk around the city as the sun rises; in the first light of day the city looks even worse than it did in the dark; as we approach the canal that leads into the port, the signs of the decay that pervades the island begin to show. The structures that once must have made it a jewel of the Caribbean are now in complete decay, the canal water is full of garbage and the smells in the air are not always pleasant. At the end of the canal, where the Malecon begins, that is, the waterfront of Havana, about fifteen people are fishing in a group; when I try to photograph them one of them gets angry and so I give up (but I took some photos anyway).

We set off along the Malecon which, if you give it a superficial glance, seems pleasant, but the more you observe and walk along it, the greater your awareness grows that Havana is literally falling apart. The splendors of an ancient glory remain and the remnants of a recent and unstoppable decline. Some buildings look about to collapse, but if you look closely at the windows there are clothes hanging out and the lights are on. It's incredible, but someone has the courage to live in these places. We return to the hotel aware that the situation is even worse than we thought.

We have breakfast at the hotel; when Nicolò and I go in, only 2 tables are occupied, we wait about 5 minutes and are served bread, cooked ham, cheese, a reddish salami with an awful taste, a hard-boiled egg (or soft-boiled, we will never have the courage to check) that does not inspire much confidence, jam produced in Spain and a small bowl of fruit with watermelon, pineapple and guava; they also serve us very looong coffee and mango and guava juice (this fruit, previously unknown to us, will accompany us constantly throughout the trip, proving excellent both as juice and as fresh fruit). Tiziana and Maurizio, on the other hand, will face a rather long wait, because all the hotel guests have gotten up but above all because the concept of time for Cubans is always very relative.

At the hotel reception we exchange 200 euros which for us equal 210 CUC (convertible pesos); half an hour later Maurizio gets 215 for the same 200 euros! This is Cuba too! As time goes by we will realize that everyone on the island rounds up their salary as best they can! At 10:00 a.m. Ramon arrives, sent by the Travel Agency, who explains some initiatives that Press Tour makes available to tourists, then, around 10:45 a.m., we set off with Ariadna to discover Habana Vieja. The guide is very nice and speaks perfect Italian, which she says she learned at school; she describes the city very professionally, but she shows us almost exclusively the best things in the area, skillfully avoiding the places that could give a negative image of the city..

She takes us to visit a shop that sells cigars (probably she receives a commission for every purchase made by tourists), then she takes us to the Bodeguita del Medio, where we can't get in because it turns out to be tiny and packed with people singing and drinking Mojitos. We then continue through several sunny and hot streets and squares to reach a place where they squeeze sugarcane, mix it with lime juice and rum and serve it to customers.

All in all, the roughly 2 hours we spend with Ariadna are pleasant; she leaves us around 12:40 and we continue on foot toward the Capitolio, and, without meaning to, we find ourselves in front of the Floridita. How could we not take the opportunity to go in and taste the famous Hemingway Daiquiri! So we sit at the bar and order 4! We watch the making of the famous cocktail from the front row; now technology rules even at the Floridita! 3 blenders replace the shaker! The head barman fills the mixer with the ingredients: ice, sugar, lemon, maraschino and rum (I think Maurizio was right when he said the rum was watered down, especially since I drank half a Daiquiri without feeling tipsy, I was just a little warm but my head wasn't spinning!) and presses the start button, the machine does all the rest.

In this place you breathe a different atmosphere compared with many others we will visit later; professionalism has married modernity while still maintaining in the place the atmosphere that must have so captivated Hemingway.

We take a stroll around the city in beastly heat, we're sweating from every pore; fortunately Tiziana thinks of trying the tourist Bus, the search takes us a bit of time, but in the end, after asking directions from two people stopped on the street, we find the stop; we arrive and the bus arrives too (what luck!) The tour is worth doing; in about 2 hours (including the many stops) we roughly visit the whole city as far as the beach area, thus seeing all the areas, degraded or not, of the capital. In the end we get off happy and walk toward the hotel, crossing a large pedestrian avenue almost turned into an open-air art gallery; several local artists display their paintings, some of which are very well done, pleasing to the eye and all with vivid, bright colors. A stop at the hotel where we manage to take a very pleasant hot shower and then, at 8:00 p.m., at the Hotel S.

Miguel, dinner on the terrace with a splendid view and excellent food: lobster, shrimp, rice and a fillet of an unknown fish. All excellent, but is the price excellent too? 100 CUC for four people (it will be by far the most expensive dinner of our entire stay on the island). While we are returning to the hotel we also watch the fireworks, but I am so tired that I can no longer keep my eyes open. As soon as I touch the bed I fall into a coma!

Still in Havana

Wake up at 5:00 a.m. (stay strong, in Italy it's 11:00 a.m.), a walk through the streets of the old city. The cathedral square is almost deserted, only little by little are the streets of Havana becoming populated. Today we leave the route the guide showed us yesterday morning; the situation we discover is quite different, the streets are in a shambles and filth reigns supreme. The streets are full of little dogs wandering in search of a piece of bread and a bit of company; one of them will keep us company for the entire walk, following us discreetly and silently.

We return to the hotel for breakfast and shortly afterward it starts to rain; rain in Cuba doesn't cool you down, it only increases the humidity! After breakfast, armed with raincoats, we set off; the destination is the Museum of the Revolution; Nicolò wants to see Che's beret and Fidel Castro's horse, he will only be half satisfied because only the beret is on display. The building that houses the museum was the residence of Fulgencio Batista, the dictator deposed by the Castro revolution.

When we leave the museum it is still raining, but little by little the sky clears and the rain grants us a truce; we then set off toward the Bodeguita del Medio, but this time too a wall of people prevents us from getting near the entrance! We settle for the place in the Cathedral Square and have a Mojito sitting at the tables in the square; a group of young people sings "Guantanamera" and other famous Cuban songs with an engaging rhythm. We then decide to go scouting ahead of tomorrow's car rental; we therefore go into the Hotel Ambos Mundos. In this historic hotel Ernest Hemingway stayed for several periods, in room 511; they tell us that today the room cannot be visited (maybe it's too late?) but tomorrow we certainly can.

The car rental clerk informs us that our car will be a "Chinese" car! Wow! That's all we needed!!! We wander around the city until about 5:30 p.m., then return to the hotel. Maurizio and Nicolò will prolong their walk while Tiziana and I treat ourselves to a nice shower. 6:30 p.m. "romantic" aperitif (as stated in the brochure of the hotel's offer package) at the hotel bar; what "romantic" means we still haven't understood! At 8:30 p.m. dinner at the hotel: chicken and beef! But we survive! During dinner it rained again, but when we finish it stops, which allows us to make a quick stop at the Bodeguita; this time we manage to get in and have a Mojito. You can't come to Cuba without making a stop there! Music and festive atmosphere, very pleasant.

From Havana to Varadero

Wake up again at 5:00 a.m. A walk on the Malecon with heavy traffic that makes the air unbreathable; thank goodness in Cuba there are few cars and gasoline is scarce!!! We return to the hotel for breakfast and once again we have to arm ourselves with saintly patience because the service is extremely slow; with our rhythms we have some difficulty accepting it, but we have to adapt... Our next destination is the Hotel Ambos Mundos, where we visit room 511 where Hemingway stayed for a long time; we then try to have the car we rented from Italy handed over to us.

Here the tragicomedy begins! They tell us the car is there but they can't hand it over because the rear right door handle is missing. We insist a bit, saying we don't care and we'll do without it. The employee, with sloth-like slowness, fills out a form entirely by hand, giving us instructions that seem to us rather superfluous. The operation, between delay and registration, takes us about 2 hours. The impression we take away from this operation is that the employee is fundamentally a dishonest person and that he pockets, at the customers' expense, whatever he can (in our case about 5 CUC of gasoline). Meanwhile in Havana it's raining! The "Chico" takes us to the "car," a very beat-up Kia Carel!!! He has us walk around the car to see what doesn't work and what is damaged.

It would be quicker for him to note what does work! Tiziana rightly points out that the gasoline receipt shows the figure of 55 CUC but we paid 60.50 CUC for gas, so where did the difference go??? The "Chico" (who must be at least 50/55 years old) gets very angry and acts offended, exclaiming "they come to call ME a thief"! Maybe (or rather without a shadow of a doubt, as we will see later) Tiziana hit the mark!!! By the way, we will make the whole trip without the rear right door handle (Tiziana's, just to be clear), something that doesn't turn our lives upside down but just complicates it a little.

I would like to know how it would have ended if we hadn't decided to take the car as it was and had demanded the repair; maybe we would still be waiting for the spare part; a suspicion crossed our minds: did the handle break really in the last few hours, or (more plausibly) had it already been missing for quite some time? Getting out of Havana, moreover in the rain, is no small feat; finally, when we are losing hope (and after several U-turns and changes of route) we reach the "autopista"; it's not what we wanted to do, but at least we are moving away from the city: Road signs are nonexistent, we barely find the signs for Matanzas, the city we have set as our destination. We make the whole journey in the rain. When we arrive in Matanzas and Nicolò pulls over to the right to figure out what to do, a man approaches and starts "rambling" about Caligula and Roman history.

Maurizio asks him if he knows where we can find 2 rooms for the night; he immediately tells us that in Matanzas there were more than twenty hotels but that they are all closed because of Castro's regime, but that he has the right person, an engineer who has 2 rooms with air conditioning. He gets into the car (next to me, telling me to move!?) and starts sending us right and left in search of the phantom house. We will discover in a short time that getting rid of a Cuban is as difficult as getting rid of fleas! Fortunately we don't find any free rooms in the houses he proposes and we take leave of the insistent "guy," saying that given the difficulty of finding lodging we opt to change city and get closer to the coast. Matanzas is in complete decline, the streets are full of debris perhaps brought by the rain and the potholes in the roadway are more numerous and deeper than ever.

We therefore decide to go toward Varadero to look for a decent hotel to stay in. To enter Varadero you have to pay 2 CUC, so the inhabitants of Cuba cannot afford to enter very often and the peninsula is therefore populated almost exclusively by tourists. We find an All Inclusive hotel at 154.00 CUC – including dinner, breakfast and lunch. Paying by credit card, however, there is an 11.75% surcharge (yet another rip-off). We accept the conditions and pay; we have the All inclusive service for everything, they put a bracelet on our wrist that identifies us as hotel guests and we can therefore take advantage of it right away; we therefore ask for a coffee (blah!) and a fruit juice. The rooms are clean and spacious and finally we have windows and even a terrace! We like the self-service dinner: we taste a bit of everything.

We make further use of the bar services and take a walk around the little town in search of the sea; we manage to find it but the darkness doesn't let us see anything, only the almost phosphorescent white foam (but is that normal?) of the waves can be glimpsed in the total darkness. We decide to come back tomorrow morning for a swim and return to the hotel to sleep (after another stop at the bar).

From Varadero to Playa Larga

Wake up at 5:40 a.m. We're in Varadero!

We take a little tour around the hotel. Wow! It's an entire village with a pool, bars, restaurants and little paths, but the whole thing is fenced in. Buffet breakfast where we ate to our liking, then… a swim in the Ocean! The water is a beautiful transparent green, there are no seaweed but on the other hand there are ocean waves, and with one of them Maurizio loses his glasses. For about an hour we try to look for them in the water. The result was that Nicolò took on a bright pink color and the glasses, naturally, were not found.

Reluctantly we abandon the search and return to the room because by now 12:00 is near and we have to vacate the rooms. In 15 minutes we shower and pack! Departure for the Bay of Pigs. As soon as we leave Varadero the landscape changes, we are looking for a gas station; as we drive through the towns we become aware of what daily life in Cuba must be like: a poverty that is hard to describe in words; the small towns and even the not-so-small ones we pass through are dilapidated, the most used means of transport is the horse-drawn cart or a truck that loads people in its bed!!! The search for gasoline does not go well: at one gas station they don't have "especial" gasoline, at another there is no electricity and they can't refuel us, at the next gas station they tell us they don't have gasoline but they inform us that we took the wrong road and that if we want to go toward the Bay of Pigs we

have to turn back. Ugh, what a struggle to get gas and find the right road! Finally we manage to refuel. Now we feel better! We also find the signs for the Bahia de Cochinos, our destination. We drive through towns that look like they came out of a nightmare; only the central road is passable, the side streets are in disastrous condition, potholes, stones and garbage. We drive through kilometers and kilometers of land that perhaps 50 years ago were a splendor of crops, now everything seems, and is, in a state of total abandonment. We approach the bay; stopping to drink a fruit juice we learn that these are areas where crocodiles live; we postpone until tomorrow the visit to the marshes with their inhabitants (a visit we will then not make) and go in search of a hotel that is on the road to the Bay of Pigs.

In the guide we find the indication that seems to suit us: Hotel Playa Grande, made up of concrete bungalows, which, all in all, aren't even that bad (apart from the ants that will sleep with us); the cost for one night plus breakfast is 48 CUC. The young man who shows us the accommodations also offers us dinner; for 15 CUC they will give us lobster, fish fillet and crocodile!!! We book this dinner too and set off for the Bay. To get there we cross a marshy area; every now and then along the sides of the road there are concrete markers bearing a plaque with the name of a Cuban who died in the three days of 1961 when 2,000 mercenary paratroopers landed at the Bay of Pigs. We reach the end of the road and visit the Museo de Giron.

In the landing 156 Cubans died; their photos are displayed in this museum, inside which the temperature is deadly (perhaps it exceeds 40 degrees). We then go in search of the landing site, but as often happens to us now we are greatly disappointed because a reinforced concrete barrier makes the area horrible! We move a little and find a better landscape; the beach is made of coral, the pebbles are pieces of dead coral, stunning! We return to the hotel under a downpour worthy of the universal flood (one of many). Ah! I forgot, along the road you have to be skilled at dodging the crabs that cross the road. There are many and some are even quite big. We find dinner on the beach excellent; the crocodile is not bad at all, the lobster seems good and the fish fillet too; the side dishes consist of fried bananas and yellow rice. All good. We go to bed around 10:00 p.m.

(almost with the chickens).

Across the Zapata Peninsula

After breakfast, around 8:30 a.m., we decide to take a dip at Playa Larga; the water is warm but less beautiful than that of Varadero (but this is the Caribbean Sea!), there isn't even a wave to be had for love or money. As I enter the water I disturb a crab that pinches my foot (fortunately it must have been small); apart from the fright, however, I suffer no consequences. We splash around for a while and then come back out; at this point I have an unpleasant encounter with a jellyfish; darn it, how it hurt! Misadventure aside, around 9:30 a.m. we set off with Cienfuegos – Trinidad as our destination, traveling along what on paper looks like a coastal road; this will turn out to be the worst choice in the world. If at the beginning the road is indeed unpaved and full of potholes but passable, as we go on it narrows more and more.

After several kilometers traveled in the middle of nowhere, we ask directions from a Cuban riding by on a bicycle; he tells us that the road ahead is in very bad shape and advises us to take an alternative road. It will prove to be a disaster!

Meanwhile, at the intersection he indicated, we cannot identify the road to take; then, after asking an old man sleeping in the shade of the trees for directions to the road we intend to take, he tells us that the road exists, but that he hasn't traveled it for about 20 years and therefore can't tell us what condition it is in. Precise directions are then provided by a young man who takes us to the point where the path begins. A Tragic Mistake! We begin to venture into what will prove to be a route worthy of the Camel Trophy, done with a beat-up car that scrapes and makes indescribable noises at every pothole or rock; little by little Tiziana and I are left speechless, we fall silent.

The situation is tragic; we wander in the middle of nowhere for about 2 hours without meeting a living soul (not even one of the strange goats encountered up to the edge of civilization); the three of us walking (Tiziana, Maurizio and I), so as not to weigh down the car with our weight, cover the same stretch of road back and forth three times (maybe we weren't sure of the route?); at a certain point we find an insurmountable obstacle; fortunately Maurizio has an intuition, maybe there's a little path that bypasses the critical point. Nicolò naturally doesn't have the patience to wait and tries to get through anyway; what this caused we will discover later. We go around the obstacle and continue the journey.

At a certain point Maurizio spots something in the distance: A Truck! Finally we meet a human being! We ask how far it is to the first town and he tells us it's about six kilometers and that the road improves as you go on. It will not prove to be quite so! We arrive, somewhat reassured, on a little road that is still unpaved but no longer as firm as the one we just left, made of coral and rock, but rather of red earth full of potholes and puddles; every time we come across one we have to get out to test its depth with a stick.

Finally some human presence appears; we meet a few tractors in the fields along the sides of the little road, and, when we are about 100 meters from the road that at this point seems like a highway to us and that should be our salvation, a chasm full of water blocks our way! Nicolò, alone in the Kia, tackles the puddle at full speed and we come out of the Zapata peninsula with a car that couldn't be dirtier. Our car is in such bad shape that no one asks us for a ride anymore!!!

We arrive in Cienfuegos a little relieved and decide to get gas, visit the city and continue to Trinidad. At the gas station a "Mecanico" points out that we have a flat tire; we then discover that the tire is punctured by 2 screws. The Mecanico repairs the tire but points out that the tire is in very bad shape and needs to be replaced. This worries us, and not a little. The same guy also fixes the plastic cover of the oil pan that is dangling under the hood of the car and that we must have broken at the most critical point of the Camel Trophy. Maurizio, on the other hand, fixes the rear bumper that had come (or perhaps already was) detached.

For 10 CUC he also offers to wash our car; we accept and after about half an hour we pick up the car, washed with a rag and a bucket of water, much more presentable than before. We head to the Rent a car for our tire problem but find no one. We then take 2 rooms at the Hotel Jagua for 105 CUC. The hotel lobby looks great, too bad the rooms aren't equally nice. Under yet another end-of-the-world thunderstorm we go in search of a restaurant; Nicolò found a name in the guide that inspires him: the Criolito; it will be an undertaking to reach it; in the end, thanks to one of the usual young men who surround the car to offer you everything, we find the restaurant: a private home where the whole family is involved in serving dinner. The food will be simple but decent: lobster with rice and beans, fried bananas and vegetables, all for 67 CUC for four, drinks included.

We end the evening at 10:30 p.m., dead tired.

From Cienfuegos to Cayo Coco

At 6:00 in the morning there is no water!!! They will give it back around 6:30! This is Cuba too! The receptionist says they have a problem with the pipes; I believe it's an endemic problem and not temporary as they want us to believe. We have breakfast amid the smell of fried eggs and set off early for the Rent a Car to try to solve the tire problem. We arrive at the CubanaCar office around 8:30: CLOSED. The sign indicates working hours 8:00 – 20:00. I call the assistance service, which turns out to be in the capital; the assistance operator assures us that he will send the staff as soon as possible to replace the tire for us, hammer it. When the wait seems to drag on a bit too long and Nicolò and Maurizio have already started removing the tire with the spare wheel, the emergency team arrives, incredible but true! In 15 minutes they change the tire so that we can set off again.

By the way, they also unblock the windows that Nicolò had blocked (when opening the fuel filler flap he pressed every possible button except the right one). We can now set off again with Trinidad as our destination; we drive through beautiful green spaces until we run alongside the sea; here the coast is rocky and only some more sheltered areas have a small beach. We arrive in Trinidad, which welcomes us with sticky heat and equally sticky people. As soon as we stop, everyone comes up to offer us every kind of thing: parking, restaurant, cigars, casas particulares and, if Tiziana and I hadn't been there, also a couple of Cuban girls.

Trinidad has a well-preserved center, but certainly not as tidy as the guide claims. The heat is suffocating. All in all the city is pleasantly colorful but we were perhaps expecting something more. We set off for Sancti Spiritus; after several kilometers another downpour, suddenly the clouds unleash a flood of water onto the ground. The little town we find seems ultra-civilized when compared with those visited so far. The main street is pedestrian-only, it has no potholes or chasms, the street is full of shops and at the bank Maurizio even manages to withdraw money with his credit card! Incredible, it really seems like another world. On the street where we parked there is even a cigar factory. The church is simple but dignified. A group of young people is rehearsing in the church for the show they will perform in the evening to raise funds.

We take stock of the situation a bit to get back on schedule and head toward Cayo Coco. Along the road a downpour forces us to stop. A few meters past the point where we stop, the road is dry! We finally find the entrance (naturally subject to payment of 2 CUC) to Cayo Coco and venture, after the passport check (???), toward the island. We drive along a causeway with a road running through the lagoon for about 30 kilometers. We finally reach the end of the road and stop to see the sea; on one side the cliff drops sheer to the sea, on the other there is a small inlet with white, very fine sand. The smell, however, is not the best, it seems that among the mangroves there is a corpse. The search for the hotel will take us quite a while, not because there was no room, but rather because Nicolò is a bit confused and makes us go back and forth several times along the island's roads.

When we are beginning to despair and the gas is running low, we arrive at Villa Gaviota, an All inclusive hotel where very few tourists stay. The price is reasonable, 100 CUC all included. The dinner won't be anything special but it will be edible and the rooms seem clean (the air conditioner, however, is quite noisy).

Arrival in Guardalavaca

Transfer stage: we have to go from Cayo Coco (full of Mosquitos, so in the morning we decide not to swim) to Guardalavaca. As usual we leave early. We cross the causeway that connects the island to the mainland again and set off; the first big village or maybe city we come across is Moron, full of horse-drawn carts and bicycles; we stop only to take a photo of the "Rooster of Moron," a statue commemorating the governor of the village who tyrannised the peasants and had been nicknamed "rooster" for his arrogant attitude; he was punished with a good dose of beatings and driven out by the enraged population; the statue is placed almost as if to warn: "Be careful not to end up like the rooster of Moron, who lost his feathers along with his comb."

We continue our journey crossing Ciego de Avila, another small town full of carts and bicycles, and carry on to Camaguey.

In this small town we stop for a short visit, but since it's Saturday afternoon all the churches are closed and so we just stroll around; we also try a piece of coconut. The taste of coconut water is very different from what I expected, and the flesh of the fresh coconut itself is also different in appearance and taste from the one bought in our supermarkets; it's a bit slimy and not very flavourful.

As we taste the fruit I think "let's hope at least we don't get a stomachache"; the boy who sells it to us for 1 CUC assures us it's good for everything, even for the prostate! We take some photos with the seller and the coconut cart and continue our journey crossing green and always scarcely cultivated plains, only cows, a little sugarcane, some banana trees and grass, lots of grass! After several kilometres we cross Las Tunas and around 5 in the afternoon we arrive at Holguin which, according to the guidebook, should be "the garden city"; to us it will seem like the usual decaying big village.

In a square, Tiziana and I are approached by some old men (or maybe just old in appearance), barefoot and visibly tipsy, who blow us alcoholic kisses; one of them, to get Tiziana's attention, places a hand on her shoulder; Tiziana's expression will be unforgettable for me: her eyes gave him a death stare, but it took Maurizio stepping in to push him away. Poor people!

Not feeling safe about the luggage left in the car and because of the thunderstorm approaching, we set off again for Guardalavaca which is 54 kilometres away; we get there around 7 in the evening and start looking for a hotel to sleep in; some establishments seem closed (we're really out of season). After a failed attempt we arrive at the Hotel Brisas, the usual beachfront All Inclusive block (100 CUC) where they make us struggle a bit to assign us two rooms, one of which turns out to still need cleaning; they'll change our room but the key won't work and finally, after several ups and downs with the elevator, after about half an hour we finally enter our long-awaited room! Dinner at the hotel restaurant and an evening stroll along the seafront (as far as the lighting reaches), then off to bed because we're quite tired, especially Nicolò who has been driving all day.

The splendid Paya Maguana

Another transfer stage, we have to head towards Baracoa. We decide to take the road that passes near the coast, so we head towards Banes and towards Mayarì. At first the roads seem passable, then, as usual, we find stretches full of potholes. Nicolò, perhaps because he's tired after several days of driving, decides to show off and gets angry with me when I tell him to go slower to try to take the potholes less violently. He stops the car and says he's not driving anymore, that if we want to continue I have to drive! At this point Maurizio, even though he's without glasses, offers to drive, and he does so despite the road being in terrible condition and his eyesight being limited. So we proceed among potholes and dips for several kilometres.

We pass through Moa, which in our imagination was supposed to be a town worth visiting; we discover instead that it's made up of a series of concrete buildings, a run-down port and a factory that must be a state secret given the sign prohibiting photographs; perhaps the photo ban comes from the fact that the images taken, possibly broadcast in foreign countries, would provide a horrible image of the whole island! The surrounding area is polluted in a frightening way; in the entire surrounding area not a blade of grass grows and the ground and rocks seem soaked in polluting waste. The one factory we saw pollutes as much as a hundred Italian industries, not bad as an average! Not to mention the vehicle fleet, when I think that in our cities cars without catalytic converters are banned from driving! We leave the "splendid" Moa behind us and head towards Baracoa.

After so many jolts and potholes we feel the physiological need to stop to "freshen up" (as Tiziana always says). About 20 kilometres from Baracoa we find the sign of a place that might suit us, so we take a little road that promises nothing good, but suddenly we find the place that will turn out to be the most beautiful we've visited so far.

A quiet little beach with some bungalows facing directly onto the sea. We get a fruit juice (good) and try asking, without much conviction, if they have room to sleep: SURPRISE! YES! They have room for tonight!!! We pay 83 CUC for the room and breakfast and spend the afternoon in the water; the thunderstorm that seemed to want to reach us spares us and after a short while the sun comes out again. Around 7 in the evening, when the sun is already setting, we reluctantly leave the beach for a shower and then dinner, nothing exceptional but decent. All in all, the stop at Villa Maguana will be very pleasant.

Transfer to Santiago de Cuba

Breakfast early (given the waiter's biblical timings) and then a swim in the splendid sea of the small bay. Around 9:00, departure for Baracoa; the roughly 20 kilometres separating us from this city are yet another ordeal – potholes – potholes – potholes! Only to discover in the end a dirty city with no particular attraction, even the Casa del Chocolate is closed! And the seafront is depressing: concrete and bad smells! After a short stroll under the scorching sun we set off for Guantanamo which is about 140 kilometres away; luckily the road is good and not very busy, also because being a mountain road the carts and wagons can't get there. Along the way we buy 1 pineapple and about 25 bananas for one CUC; the bananas, small and stubby, are delicious, and the pineapple will be excellent too. We arrive at Guantanamo and the sky turns, as on almost every day, dark.

The first drops of rain begin to fall. Finally the signs for the autopista! We try to reach the highway but we're blocked by a "stream" of water to ford; the rain has all flowed into the middle of an intersection and we don't dare cross it. We have to turn back, we make a long detour and find the signs for the highway again. Finally some decent road to reach Santiago! If only we hadn't said that! First of all a storm breaks out that reduces visibility to nothing, a sea of water pours down, but we're on the highway, we tell ourselves. MISTAKE! Suddenly the carriageway leading towards Santiago becomes open countryside. We find ourselves among grass and mud and under a repeat of the universal flood! We no longer know what to do: turn back or continue on the only existing carriageway but against the direction of traffic? Meanwhile not a living soul passes by. The highway is deserted.

Finally a truck passes in the opposite lane. We decide to turn back and at that point we come across some cars going in the direction we want. We turn around again and follow a Lada that seems to know the road. The highway is in fact interrupted, but, as usual, only an arrow indicates that you have to cut across the opposite carriageway and exit the highway route entirely and take secondary roads! Still under pouring rain and on a road that looks like a river, we proceed for what seems like an endless time, with one off-road excursion after another. By the time we arrive in Santiago the car will be covered in everything: grass, branches and mud! Finally it clears up a bit and we reach our destination; here we're supposed to stay for three nights; we got from the four Tuscan guys we met yesterday at Villa Maguana the address of a lady who has an excellent casa particular.

Now the problem is finding her. In the city we're immediately approached by people offering us everything. We try showing the piece of paper with the place where we want to go and we're lucky enough to find a boy who speaks Italian quite well; we load him into the car, and here Maurizio almost loses a foot. We decide to have the boy sit in the front next to the driver; Maurizio gets out and climbs in the back with me and Tiziana, while he still has one foot outside the car Nicolò sets off and crushes his foot. Great, to round off the day that was all we needed! Luckily it will all be resolved with a bit of a scare and some redness on his left heel.

Finally we arrive at Casa Tatìca where Mrs. Maria, notified by phone, is waiting for us. She shows us rooms as dignified and welcoming as a hotel or maybe even better, above all clean, something that isn't always easy to find in Cuba. We allow ourselves a bath and set off in search of the Paladar indicated to us by Amauri, the boy who accompanied us in the car; with difficulty we manage to get there (accompanied by a girl who will make the little note left by Amauri disappear so she can take the commission for the customers brought to the restaurant); the Paladar has a nice terrace where we dine by candlelight on lobster, fish, shrimp, rice and vegetables. The dinner is good and plentiful. We then walk towards the Cathedral square which, seen in the dark, seems to us to be very beautiful; we hope it's just as beautiful in the sun.

In the square we also find the hotel where we have to return the car tomorrow morning at 13:00. So we end our day encouraged by a Santiago that, although it's an open-air excavation, seems to be better than all the cities visited so far.

A stroll around Santiago

Today a day in Santiago. After having breakfast at the casa particular we set off by car towards the Castillo del Morro, a fortress located at the mouth of the bay, inhabited by several iguanas. In the fortress the Spanish-Cuban-North American war is described, which was also fought in the waters in front of Santiago in 1898. We then return to the city because we have to return our powerful means of locomotion. On returning it, naturally we discover that at the time of delivery they hadn't told us that picking up the car in Havana and returning it in Santiago would involve an additional outlay, on top of the price already paid from Italy, plus the surcharge for insurance and for the authorisation for multiple people to drive and naturally the marked-up price of the "almost full" tank of petrol; they therefore withhold 100 CUC from the 250 deposit left in Havana.

This gives us confirmation that in Cuba many people are dishonest! Luckily by now we know we have to put on a brave face and we console ourselves with a stop at the bar on the terrace of the Hotel Casa Granda where we sip fruit juices.

In the hottest hour of the day we try to reach the sea; under the scorching sun we walk along streets full of dilapidated houses and people who approach us to ask us for everything and offer us cigars and a bit of everything. How sad, even children approach us asking for chewing gum; we don't dare think what could happen if in our place there were someone with bad intentions! We spend the rest of the afternoon watching the traffic and the characters who populate the Cathedral square (the church "custodian" even offers us a private visit for the exorbitant price of 1 CUC) from the hotel terrace; when the sun goes down a bit we do a round of exploration and discover some interesting squares; in one of them there are people playing dominoes and chess. We return to Mrs.

Maria's (Tatìca) for what will be an excellent "criolla" dinner with fish, mashed potatoes, rice, fried bananas and vegetables. We end the evening on the terrace where the heat is less oppressive.

Still Santiago

At first light a strange thing catches my attention: a police car precedes a fire truck, which, flanked by a policeman on a motorbike, in turn precedes a tanker truck from which a thick white smoke pours out, rising for several metres and then falling back to the ground leaving a veil of damp and slippery residue. At first, thinking of a fire starting in the tanker, I get a bit scared, then, seeing that the people in the street continue their activities without being fazed at all, I understand that the smoke is used to disinfect and/or fumigate the streets. During the day we'll also witness disinfection of houses and premises carried out with portable devices. Another day in Santiago. After breakfast we set off in search of the Rum Factory; we ask Mrs. Maria for directions to get there; she tells us we have to reach the port and walk 7/8 cuadros to get there.

The port area is very run-down, full of people getting on and off every means of transport: horse-drawn carts, buses, trucks, camelos and even bicitaxis. The smells are not very pleasant. As always we're approached by people offering us everything. After what seem to be the longest 7/800 metres ever walked we catch sight of what seems to be the factory we're looking for. We discover however that it's not possible to visit it, so we go into the tienda where Nicolò buys two bottles of rum. Now he has to lug them all around the city!

We head back towards the centre crossing very poor areas (open-air butcher shops with meat on the table covered in flies). We approach the city centre and we're greeted by the most intense pedestrian and vehicular traffic ever seen on the whole island. It seems the whole city has poured into the streets. We head towards the terrace of the Hotel Casa Granda to cool off a bit and rest.

Nicolò decides to take the two bottles of rum to the casa particular and then go to the bank to change some euros: he'll disappear for about an hour and a half, worrying us a great deal, and will come back calm and blissful with a little jar of jam! (there are no words!) Some clouds gather in the sky, so we venture into the city; Nicolò takes us along the streets he walked on his solitary excursion; at a certain point he even buys an ice cream along the way (he loves risk because he'll repeat the experience during the afternoon). We head back towards the city centre to visit Velasquez's house which we discover to be very beautiful; it was really worth visiting.

We then walk again, in search of a place to have a drink, along what is perhaps the most polluted street in the world: it's almost impossible to breathe! We find a place that seems to suit us in Plaza Dolores where we have three coffees and a lemonade: it will be the strangest lemonade ever seen made, with "powder," sugar, perhaps lemon juice, so much ice it could sink the Titanic and a sprig of hierbabuena. Tiziana will say that all in all it wasn't bad. We then sit on the benches of Plaza Dolores where a little bird decides to leave me a few souvenirs on my bermuda shorts. Tired and weary we return to Mrs. Maria's casa particular where we enjoy an excellent dinner of shrimp, rice, mashed potatoes, vegetables and fried green bananas: all delicious. The stay at Casa Tatica will cost us 75 CUC for sleeping and 62 for 3 breakfasts, 2 dinners plus water and drinks.

Back to the Capital

This morning an early wake-up. 6:15 breakfast - 6:50 taxi particular to the airport – 9:55 flight from Santiago to Havana. The taxi particular arrives a few minutes early (to avoid police checks): it's a car from the 50s/60s; to keep the trunk open the driver uses a piece of iron; the exhaust pipe seems to discharge directly into the passenger compartment and the suspension must still be the original one. But this is also part of Cuba. We arrive at Santiago airport therefore at around 7:05. We're well ahead of schedule, luckily; we don't even know why but the flight instead of departing at 9:55 will depart at around 8:35. The Tupolev that will take us to Havana shows all its years and perhaps a few more. At take-off the air conditioning system creates a curtain of smoke like an aerosol; luckily as soon as we gain altitude the fog vanishes.

After about an hour and fifteen minutes we land at the capital's airport. For 25 CUC an official taxi takes us to the Hotel Nacional, a beautiful hotel, a bit decadent but with a unique charm.

When we get out of the taxi in the forecourt there's a swarming of diplomatic cars (to Nicolò it seems he recognised only flags of African countries). After taking possession of the rooms we head towards the Vedado district and thus make a further visit to the city; after wandering around for a while under a scorching sun we decide to go to the Floridita for a Daiquiri, so we take the tourist Bus which drops us off at some point in the historic centre; we walk, still under the blazing sun, towards the venue. When we finally find it it's full of tourists, but, in just five minutes we manage to find a table and so we spend more than an hour sitting sipping a Daiquiri and watching the coming and going of tourists entering and leaving, all accompanied by the music of the usual roaming groups.

After leaving the Floridita we stroll around the city a bit more, but Maurizio is silent, says he doesn't feel too well. The heat is oppressive, it never gives a truce. We take the tourist Bus again to return to the hotel, but we have to wait in the heat on the bus, in the sun no less, more than half an hour before it decides to leave. Maurizio will be KO for the whole evening and night; he won't come to dinner with us at one of the hotel restaurants; he won't miss anything exceptional, the dinner is perhaps the least good, not to say poor, of the whole trip. The dinners at Casa Tatìca were better.

We're all tired, aching and Nicolò is in a bad mood; we hope tomorrow will be a better day, also because it will be a very long day; the plane departs at 22:50 from Havana with expected arrival in Madrid at 14:00 (local time), so nine hours of flight if you take into account the six-hour time difference, then to catch the flight to Venice at 16:10 with expected arrival at 18:25. We hope everything goes smoothly

Down to the wire

Breakfast at the Hotel Nacional where the Cuban coffee seems to us to have a burnt taste. We spend the morning and a good part of the afternoon sitting in the armchairs of the portico or those of the lobby. Nicolò and I even have a Daiquiri. Maurizio seems to have regained his good mood after yesterday's congestion, perhaps due to the plane's air conditioning set a bit too low. At a certain point (around three in the afternoon) Nicolò can't stand being inside the hotel any longer and abandons us for one of his excursions. He'll return after about two hours, soaked with sweat after the walk in the sun to visit the tower of Plaza José Martì; it will take him more than half an hour to recover.

Around 18:30 we pick up our luggage from the hotel storage and take a taxi; Maurizio will be forced to hold one of our suitcases on his knees because the trunk turns out to be too small for our luggage.

We pay our 25.00 CUC for the taxi and enter the airport thinking we'll have to wait a lot of time, but instead the check-in has already started. So we can hand over our luggage and begin the insane process of going through security checks. They take a photo of us to check if we're the same as when we arrived, they ask us when we arrived, with whom and other questions. We then discover the most absurd thing of all: if we want to leave Cuba we have to pay 25.00 CUC each! If we can set foot out of this insane country I don't think I'll want to come back any time soon! We then spend our last CUCs to buy a hot dog each and two bottles of water.

I forgot to mention that next to whoever stamps the 25.00 CUC there's the cash desk to exchange currency! Who knows why? But what happens to someone who, since they're already at the airport and expect not to spend any more, arrives at passport control without the money required for the "exit fee"? Nicolò and Maurizio change their polo shirts and trousers respectively while we're sitting at the airport bar, because "This is Cuba!" Finally at 22:00 we board the plane only to discover that as usual the temperature inside is freezing. We put on sweaters and jumpers and cover ourselves with the blanket provided by Iberia; it will be a very long night anyway.

Finally home!

Between one nap and another, finally after nine hours of flight we land in Madrid. We're back in civilisation at last! Now all that's left is to return to terminal 4 and find gate J52 to board for Italy. Departure will be a bit delayed, but given what we experienced on the Caribbean island everything now seems fantastic to us. Landing at Venice airport at around 18:45 and at around 22:00 FINALLY HOME!!!