Classic Tour of Cuba: Week 2

Nov 27, 202429 min read

Updated: Dec 3, 2024

Day 8 – Transit: Trinidad via ... Ciego de Avila

... (continuing from my previous blog)

Leaving Ciego de Avila at 3:30, it wasn’t until 2 hours later we arrived in Trinidad. All my photos taken while we rolled along, around Sancti Spiritus and the mountains of Pitajones, are a blur – Pepe was making great speed. Still it was nearly dark in town when we arrived in Trinidad. Our orientation talk/walk was over uneven rough cobbled stone streets, not the safest move. We had to climb a slight incline to get to the historic old plaza, within sight of numerous museums and a church. Still Adrian persisted, turning himself back into a history teacher.

We found a restaurant as we descended the incline from the plaza and then climbed from the street up a level to its terrace. My first choice was pizza (I figured someone somewhere in Cuba could make a decent pizza) which was unavailable, so I settled for a sandwich, which turned out to be a chorizo hoagie with too much bread. To accompany, a michelada, a mixed drink of lime juice, Bloody Mary mix and beer. Upon calling for the check, a power outage occurred, so we settled up by flashlight and made our way back. The street layout is mainly rectilinear, and shops were open despite the lack of electricity.

After backing up the photos, I set the fan on and read a bit. If the power would return, the AC would blast cold air, and I might have to adjust the temperature. We had booked a jungle hike at Cubatur on our way to the orientation talk, so we needed to be back at that office by 9:15 the following morning.

Days 9 and 10 – Trinidad

Tuesday afternoon at Cubatur we all booked a “forest hike” to Parque Guanayara. The cost was $55US, and had to be paid with a credit/debit card. Four of us were participating, and we hit a challenge – cards from the US were not functional. Fortunately, Dhong’s card was Romanian-based, and she was able to pay for us, with Robin and me reimbursing her in cash; I don’t know how Mei settled. In any case, Mei and Dhong were at breakfast Wednesday morning which proved to be an elaborate spread. They had walked up the few doors between our hostels, and breakfast was served on the ground floor. I dropped off my laundry.

With a 9:30 departure, we four walked around the corner and down to Cubatur. An open air 3-axle vehicle was parked outside its door, and our tour group began climbing the steep four steps to take hard seats. Twelve of us paying customer took pairs of seats: a German couple from Ulm; a French couple from Saumur and Provence, living in Den Haag; a Romanian couple (he lives in Norway); an older Italian (Napoli) man and his local female companion; our team of Mei, Dhong, Robin and me. Four locals who worked at the site were in the back row, including the woman who would be our guide.

We set off on time and the driver took us out of Trinidad and into the countryside. We began climbing hills, eventually stopping at an observation deck with views to the south and the Caribbean, up about 100 wide stone steps. Agave plants dotted the grounds. We had about 10 minutes on this stop. Back on the truck, the driver continued our climb and a half-hour later we stopped at an information center. Here we were introduced to pictures of native fauna, including the jutías or palm rats. Up the hill from the center was a large modern multistory building now used as a mental health facility. A large stone circular installation filled the huge grass circle out front – it turned out to be a sundial. Our guide explained the cultivation of coffee, its harvesting and processing before we were offered the opportunity to buy a “cuppa java.”

After a half hour we again climbed into the truck and began our climb over twisting and rough roads. A quick stop after 20 minutes at a roadside stand allowed us to purchase souvenirs and taste some rather wonderful fudge, some of which I brought home. The house associated with this palm-leaves topped stand was faced with squares of clay tile imbedded in concrete artistically – it was a well-kept residence and appealed to my esthetic sense. Paintings were also on display, both of classic cars and narrow vertical multi-scene strips with a cartoon feel.

Another half hour climbing and descending rugged narrow roads through the forest, we arrived at the starting point for our hike about 2 hours after leaving the city. Advised that the truck would meet us at the far end, we began the hike over a level dirt path through a grassy stretch. Very quickly we left the bright sunshine and entered the cooler park of dappled greenery. Our guide pointed out various plantings along the way – a banana tree in bloom, a succulent up in a tree used for naturally treating diabetes, coffee, a nut/berry about the size of a baseball which I didn’t get the name of.

The packed dirt path took us up and down the sides of the hill, occasionally offering vista points into the surrounding forest. Wooden railings with logs or stone steps provided support as we wended along stream beds and dense growth. After about 2km and an hour hiking we arrived at the first set of waterfalls.

There we met our initial log “bridge”, which we crossed in single file.

Ten minutes to get pictures (lots of selfies were taken), we continued to walk along rushing streams, past thick stands of bamboo, another waterfall and across a rapids in a stream, stepping carefully between and on slippery rocks. Much of the path was level or gradual, but I was the straggler as I continued to take photos.

Eighty minutes into the hike we came down an incline to a wide expanse. Mild waterfalls had filled a basin and offered a spot for swimming. With a tarp-surrounding changing area, about half the group got into the water after we crossed another longer log bridge. I spent the three-quarter hour break sitting on a bench in the shade, sipping the water I’d brought, relaxing.

Once the swimmers had changed into dry clothing, we continued our hike, with our guide promising another 2km. Following streams, crossing via logs and planks, and the infrequent climb and descent, at one point the guide spotted the Cuban national bird, the Tocororo.

I managed to zoom in while the bird was in the sunlight, seeing its bright plumage of the Cuban flag. Other’s shots weren’t quite so fortunate. By the halfway point, I was seriously lagging the group, particularly as the guide’s son had joined us and, as an 8-year old, was setting a rapid (billy goat) pace. However, I just continued my attempts to stay in sight, capturing scenes of verdant nature and enjoying the experience. Of particular note, there were several stretches of wide, slowly moving streams where the sun broke through, and large boulders which had tumbled down the inclines which I captured with the Nikon.

An hour after leaving the swimming hole (and almost 100 pictures), we came around a bend and were faced with a pair of long narrow suspension plank bridges. (Centinelas del Rio Melodioso) For me, this was nothing new, as I’ve been on similar during my zipline experiences earlier this year. For those new to this experience, most moved with their partners, as the crossing would bounce with each step. Ruben, the Romanian, took multiple videos as members made their way to the stable center stretch before strutting to the far side. And, again, this was another selfie site.

The end of the hike, we came to a structure where we would have lunch family-style. Chickens were pecking away on the lawn as we slowly filled one end of a long table. I convinced the group to pose for group photos, and even joined them (our guide took those). While I didn’t make any notes about the meal, I do remember that we had several options for the main course, and we were at the table for about an hour before climbing back on the truck for the journey back to Trinidad.

We made a number of stops on the way down, dropping off staff members near their homes, including our guide and her son. We even picked up one or two locals, giving them rides along the route. As we rolled downward, the sun was setting over the mountains to the west, allowing me a few shots – the driver was moving rapidly (gravity helps) and many of my pictures were blurry. By 5:45 we were back to Cubatur to unload, the sun having set during the previous half hour.

For this expedition, I took slightly more than 400 pictures, and after filtering out the blurry (motion-affected), the excessive “artistic” forest scenes, I pushed 225 up to the NikonImage site. Ruben had started a WhatsApp group (he felt email was too retro) for me to share my pictures. When he returned home, he shared another 20 pictures and videos, which I’ve added to that shared album.

Back in Trinidad where the power was out, we four walked back together to our hostels. I took a shower and washed the dirt off my pant legs. I needed a bottle of water, so I walked to the end of the block and found a government store which had plastic bottles of water in multiple sizes for sale. Getting a single 1.5 liter, I was stymied – I had to use a credit card to purchase, and my card was blocked. So I walked next store to the Floridita bar (a copy of the Hemingway bar in Havana) to have a cervesa (Parranda) before getting my water, and then headed back to our 7:30 dinner rendezvous.

Across from Cubatur was restaurant Adito, one of the better eateries in town and offering Italian food. It had pizza on the menu, and I was really looking forward to that. However, I ordered a salad and spaghetti carbonara with a shot of Santiago 12, a rum (not really) similar to Adrian’s favorite of Santiago 11. While we were dining, a couple came in and their wardrobe became our topic of discussion. She was quite elegant, while he wore an unironed short-waisted oversized shirt. They schmoozed, although we speculated they were too similar in looks to not be siblings. Personally, I found the meal barely adequate, not like the versions I’d had in either Italy or the US. On our way back to the hostel, Adrian took us into a shop. There, where I would purchase cigars, I was treated to a taste of Santiago 11 – which was superb!

Wednesday morning we awoke to power which stayed on most of the daylight. Breakfast was slightly lighter in content (we hadn’t consumed everything the day before). My laundry was returned, clean, dry and folded, even fit into the laundry bag I’d provided. As a group we walked to CubaTur to see what activities were available (none) and then strolled up the hill to the plaza with the big church. On a neighboring tree-shaded square, a choreographer was working on a piece with several dancers; a handful of young boys were engaged with a soccer ball; and a young man sat nearby. He had a “Free Walking Tour” umbrella, so I inquired on his tour and schedule. Marco led an hour tour, starting in a few minutes, so we all decided to join him.

Marco took us around to several sites, explaining that he and his family are practitioners of the African religion. He regaled us with stories of Trinidad and Cuba’s past while we stood in the shade on squares. Pointing at well-kept colonial buildings, he expounded with scandals and legends. We passed a bar where its ceiling was filled with hanging banknotes. As we walked, Marco recommended restaurants, pointed out open galleries to return to for a visit, and ended in the elegant Plaza Cespedes. Its season-themed garden quadrants faced the colonial administration building He ended with the explanation that it was historically actually two squares, the barren block cattycorner had been for the slaves, who, had they crossed, would have been killed.

A haircut was underway when I passed earlier in this old fashioned barber chair — A haircut was underway when I passed earlier

We were near the ice cream shop, and Mei and Dhong had been craving the delicacy. Too early for the rest of us, they got their cones and walked out smiling. Our route took us past el Floridita, back by the casita, where we ran into Adrian. We continued to the square where we’d begun Marco’s tour. The dance troupe had grown in size, the work much more complex. Across the Pazuelo del Cristo was the National Struggle against Bandits Musuem, housed in an old church/convent/cloister. In addition to interesting art, historic pieces from the times of pirates, and examples of revolutionary warfare, there is a 5-story belltower which we all climbed. Phenomenal view of the city and countryside, we all spent time getting views into our cameras.

As it was approaching noon, we decided to have lunch. Taberna La Botija looked open, but staff were still eating and we were sent away for 10 minutes. Across was an alternate, El Rin Tin Tin, which hadn’t gotten Adrian’s okay. The Dominican church’s gate was open following the late morning Mass, so we entered the Holy Trinity Church, where I was able to explain more Catholic theology to members of my team.

In each of the side chapels (this was a sizable building with three aisles lined with side altars) were dark-wood carved altarpieces honoring various saints. There was even La Caridad, a reproduction of the statue we’d seen in el Cobre. The stark white of the walls, columns and vault contrasted with the dark wood of the lecterns, pews and altars.

We’d spent enough time on the square and in the church that the restaurant was open. Seated at a picnic bench (difficult for most of us to climb into), we ordered off a limited menu. My meal was a chicken burrito with a Bucanero, served with guacamole and three sauces. The burrito was served open rather than rolled and, with some hot sauce, was pretty tasty.

We took a scenic stroll after lunch, stopping in several open-air markets to view the trinkets and goods on sale. I was snapping shots of the buildings and the classic cars, as we returned to the multi-level restaurant we’d visited the first night in Trinidad. I sat at the bar to have a snort of Santiago 11, refreshing my experience from the night before.

Carla and Robin returned to the pension to take naps, while Mei, Dhong and I headed to the shop Adrian had recommended to purchase cigars. For my sight-impaired neighbor Jim I’d offered to bring him a dozen Monte Cristos, which the salesman taped up in a box. He gave me a second Romeo y Julieta, matching the one from the evening before. While Les Chinoises were dickering over the cigar they’d buy, I purchased a bottle of Santiago 11, and was treated to a shot of Edmundo Dantes, a very limited edition bottle of Castro’s special rum. Feeling just slightly mellow, we returned around the corner to tuck away our purchases, and I sat in the lobby where the wifi was strong and did internet for an hour or so, and then took a brief nap. Back to the lobby, a group of about 30 came in for dinner on the upper terrace, while I burned through a data card.

The six of us had dinner in the front room en familia. The whole fish was then deboned by the staff, joining the dishes of lobster, crab, chicken and vegetables. As the evening darkened, the discussion drifted to wanting to hear the Cuban music up on the Escalinata de Trinidad near the top of the city. I elected to escort Mei and Dhong, and we arrived just before the announced 9pm starting time.

After wandering in a nearby gallery (where there were surrealist paintings, prints and sculptures of coffee pots), we sat on the church entrance until 9:30 (we weren’t about to pay for a table on the stairs), and without hearing the music, the three of us bailed and returned to our residences. But not without my stopping at the cigar store for a final tasting of the Santiago 11. (Mei seemed convince that I had to be drunk.) The power had been off through dinner, but came back on facilitating packing for the morning departure.

Days 11 and 12 – Remedios

Breakfast was elegant and filling. Concluding my packing, we all joined Pepe and the bus in the street and got loaded by 9. We rolled around a few corners, near Plaza Cespedes, where we stopped in a multi-generational pottery foundry. We’d had a traditional Trinidad drink, so I bought a clay cup used to serve it – however, on getting home, I found it had a slow leak.

Continuing on to the Valle de los Ingenios, a hacienda/plantation located to the east of Trinidad included a grand mansion and a tall lookout tower in the area of vast sugar plantations. (I’d hoped to tour the full park, but it wasn’t an option while there.)

Along the dirt roadway through the gateway, local women displayed a vast array of embroidery and sewn goods. The hacienda is now an event center, with historic information available under the broad palm-leafed covered round terrace in back. To climb the 42m tower cost 700CP, well worth the splendid view from the sixth level. Among the views below were the vast plethora of cloth goods for sale.

Underway by 10:30, Pepe took us on a rustic route, where we were soon able to stop at a subsistence farmer’s place for a coffee and tour. He grew coffee, which he harvested, dried, roasted and ground. Robusta rather than arabica, a kilo bag was $7. His other crops included cacao, bananas, and papayas. His honeybees had a small hive propped in a tree. His cousin grows tobacco, and he rolls his own, which he also sold. This was an intriguing stop.

We continued 90 minutes to Santa Clara. We passed an industrial-size (government) coffee-processing plant and a shed for drying tobacco leaves while on its outskirts. Pepe stopped at a large, clean, air-conditioned buffet restaurant. It seemed to be a regular stopping point for touring buses. Nothing exciting (except the pink ice cream?)

As we were passing through Santa Clara, Adrian was pressed to expose us to Tren Blindado, the site of a major critical victory for the mid-twentieth century revolution. Castro had dispatched Guevara to intercept a munitions train. Che took an available bulldozer and removed a train rail, causing the train to halt and be captured. The square where we visited had representations of the box cars, bulldozer and weapons.

After this 20-minute stop we were back on the road, and arrived in Remedios about an hour later at the Hostal Villa Colonial. I was put in room #3, interior and near the kitchen, without windows. My notes remark on the multiple small steps creating a confusing obstacle course. It was a good size room, big bed, step-in tub-type shower. The power was working, so AC and a fan! I unpack the toiletries and exited.

Adrian had called us to join him on a walk into the town center for an orientation. Once out the door, power failed. The single-tower church stands alongside the square, and Adrian turned the group over to the resident docent who provided a thorough and intriguing history of the Iglesia de San Juan Batista.

During the Batista regime, a patron had sponsored the restoration and gilding of the eight mahogany altars, unique in Cuba. The wooden vault, reminiscent of a boat-hull, had been preserved. She pointed out that the images in each coffered square would be viewed as a flower from one direction (Moorish influence) and as Christ portrait from the other.

Our tour of the town continued around Plaza Marti, the colonial architecture gleaming in fresh pastel shades. Remedios has an annual festival on Christmas Eve, and there is a museum of fireworks explaining it. We went to check to see if it was open – not until the morning. As Adrian concluded, the rest of the team adjourned to the hostel, while I returned to the church to photograph and appreciate all the shrines.

One statue representing the Virgin was notably pregnant, an unusual portrayal. After checking out each niche, the guide took me into the sacristy, and then behind the altar. Backing against the altar wall was an unlocked armoire filled with shelves of books. Separated by ethnicity, these are the church records: baptism, marriage and death of parishioners going back three hundred years and all handwritten.

Walking back slowly, I took a few pictures of buildings, and a classic car. On the corner, across the street from the hostel, was the local Communist Party headquarters. I walked past the door opening into the electrical utility. A hacienda also served as a doctor’s office along the way.

At the hostel, antiques abound, and rooms had been set aside as historic displays. Climbing to the rooftop, I passed a small side terrace where weights and a bench stood. The view was bland – just more tile roofs with water tanks. Back in the common space, Robin and I sat and talked until nightfall. Preparing for dinner, I took a shower by flashlight and changed shirts.

Five of us for dinner (with Dhong continuing to skip late eating,) I chose the pork loin for my main dining in the lovely salon of the Hotel Barcelona. The inner courtyard had been painted in a mint-green and trimmed in white. Foliage hung from the balconies and in potted plants on the floor. At its entry, comfortable, heavily padded leather seating sat in front of a traditional bar. My meat was tough, but the strawberry ice cream for dessert was yummy. I got a few night shots from the nearby square before we all returned for the night.

The next morning after breakfast we headed two blocks beyond the square to the Museo de las Parrandas Remedianas. Again, a local guide led us around, explaining the history and features of the annual competition, extensive preparations of which culminate on Christmas Eve. Past pyrotechnics have given way to brilliant light displays, as the locals are divided geographically into teams for the Virgin or San Salvador. Examples of elaborate costumes fill showcases.

Leaving, Pepe took us a short distance to the train station. Within a few minutes, a steam locomotive appeared coming around the distant bend, smoke pouring from its funnel. Pulling three open-air carriages and a caboose, the trainmen disconnected the cars to allow the engine to uncouple and pull the load eastward. We had a fifteen-minute ride to arrive at the Museo de la Agroindustria Azucarera.

While it was drizzling slightly (and I had no protection), I was like the kid in the candy store. Directly outside the grounds were retired “iron horses”, steam locomotives and tenders lovingly restored and maintained. Painted in red and gold trim, these black behemoths each had a name and unique number. They were so closely placed it was hard to actually appreciate each one.

But first there was a tour of the sugar refinery plant. Off to our left were the buildings related to the storage warehouses. Turning to the right, the display started with dioramas of the highly manual labor intense work involved in processing the sugar cane, already a difficult task just to harvest.

From crushing and extraction, to cooking and skimming, the early colonial creation of sugar and molasses was on display as our guide explained the steps. With the advent of steam power, sugar production became more efficient and streamlined, with the equipment exploding in size and yield. Multi-story high and block-long hardware covered the concrete slab.

Of course we ended at the gift shop, where trinkets were available. The ladies proceeded to manually squeeze some sugar cane, offered the juice (with and without a dose of rum) to sample. Adrian allowed us 15-minutes to explore, and I used my allotment to go and visit the locomotives. Some 40 photos in just over 10 minutes, and then I was back on our bus with the team and heading out to lunch.

Situated in a small farm just to the north of the road paralleling the tracks we had followed, and just outside the Remedios town limits, we walked through manicured lawns with tall palms lining the walkway. El Curujey looked to be another tour favorite, with smaller palapas individual brick ovens. In a cage in back, jutías were poking out of stones piled at the base of a tree. These palm rats had been included in the rainforest information panel, but here we actually saw the cute furry creatures. We were to see a demonstration of palm tree climbing, but with the rain it had been called off.

The house drink, with and without alcohol, was an orange-tinted liquid, served over ice in a tall glass. Not real orange juice, it tasted of Crystal Lite. My meal consisted of fried chicken with a can of Cristal (cervesa.)

The weather was clearing, so Frank, our host, arranged for a taxi to take all five of us to the beach at Cayo Santa Maria. An hour drive across a causeway and to the very end of the relatively new roadway, we bypassed the inspection point (and the $25 access fee, reimbursing $20 at the bar) to arrive at the nearly empty resort. Between admission and renting a beach lounge chair, we spent $5 a piece, and had several hours of an empty beach and beautiful blue clear water in the sunshine. We all positioned our chairs under palapas. When I made a long walk down the shoreline, I saw about as much litter as I saw people.

Our driver had waited for us, so when we were ready to leave, we walked past (mostly) closed retain establishments and climbed back into the taxi. He brought us safely and promptly back in town (albeit he did stop easily for petrol), charging us the agreed-upon $15 each.

When we had left, power was on and I left a camera battery to charge. Power, however, had been out much of the day, so when it came back on at our return, the battery was still charging. Freshening up and then gathering for dinner, we returned to the same hotel restaurant from the night before. I scrutinized the bar offerings, determining that I’d like a Glenmorangie shot with dinner. I’ve got no pictures of the fish I had for dinner. Power returned, so I packed for the morning, as we were leaving at 7 for the long ride to Havana.

Days 13 and 14 – La Habana

In Remedios, I was up at 6:30, out with my bags before 7 and we were soon underway. I’d talked with Frank the night before, and he had prepared egg-, cheese- and ham sandwiches for each of us. Our route was pretty much due west, however we rode to Santa Clara to join the highway which runs along the central spine of the island.

Even with a rest stop at ten o’clock about an hour outside the capitol, we reached the lodgings on the malecon by 11:30. Across the harbor mouth was the fortress el Morro.

After bidding Pepe farewell, and sending Adrian in the lift with all our gear, we climbed two flights to be greeted by Danny. We stayed at the Malecon Sunset Guesthouse. Carla and Robin were assigned to the two front rooms, and I had the next, beyond the lounge. Les Chinoises were away from the street in the fifth room. Once again, I had a pair of twin beds in the room, with the window facing out into the hall. My choice of bed was made for me, as the bathroom door (which I typically leave open) hit the far bed.

Once we’d settled in and gathered, our instructions from Adrian included a take-away place around the corner for pizza. Carla, Robin and I set out to explore, not particularly hungry. We crossed several blocks until we reached the Paseo de Marti, a grand wide thoroughfare with trees and plaza space down its center. Everywhere I turned a classical car would pass or be parked. We continued until we reached the stairs of the Capitolio Nacional, which bears a remarkable resemblance to the US Capitol in DC. As we climbed the steps, we were called off – tickets (at $20) had to be secured, once lunch ended at 2pm.

From the capitol building we decided to head east, following pedestrian filled streets. Looking in stores, at buildings, watching people, we slowly meandered with the vague direction of the cathedral. We spotted the “original” el Floridita on the corner, with a serious line of tourists. Probably about 2-3 blocks shy of the church, we opted for a corner café which promised hot dogs. Nope, not available, so I had a margarita pizza, while Robin and Carla had 3 tacos each. We couldn’t finish, and asked (in poor Spanish) that the food be given to the hungry on the street.

Entering the Plaza de la Catedral from its southwest corner, I remembered my difficulties trying to take the representative photo I wanted. Again, I’m left with a “head on” shot of the southern (main) façade of La Catedral de la Virgen María de la Concepción Inmaculada de La Habana.

ain) façade of La Catedral de la Virgen María de la Concepción Inmaculada de La Habana

Two towers bracket the front, the bell tower being larger and to the east. Three doorways, the larger central being double wooden doors was open. Entering the nave, white stone has been used for the columns and vault, light entering from the upper clerestory windows. The center aisle is roped off, with visitors directed to the west aisle to begin their exploration. Dark wooden pews fill the nave floor. (In 2018 on my earlier visit, we had arrived after the 4pm closing.)

The west side aisle is clear, the polished marble floors holding a slight gleam reflecting the sunlight coming in the transept window. Side altars in the chapel-like insets are dark with gold highlights, displaying a framed painting. A large statue representing the patron saint of San Cristobal stands to the left in front of the sanctuary, the Christ child he is to be bearing missing. The Sacrament is behind swinging doors in a chapel off the west transept. The quire/apse is set up 4 marble steps, the dark wood carved and gilded as seats for the choir and dignitaries, the archbishop’s red velvet seat against the back wall below the statue of the Virgin. The marble altar table is placed squarely in the center of the sanctuary.

Continuing around the visitation path, the baptistry is behind gates off the east transept arm. Asking, I determine that the memorial with the remains of Christopher Columbus, now in the cathedral in Seville, had stood in the chapel now dedicated to Our Lady of Guadalupe. Climbing the tower is an option, at a cost, however I had two colleagues who were more interested in walking further in Havana. I exited, walking down the plaza and we began strolling Paseo San Ignacio as we headed south. As with much of Old Havana, vehicles were pretty much banned from the narrow cobblestone streets.

At O’Reilly, I stopped for a picture of the café on the corner. My maternal grandmother’s family were O’Reillys hailing from the southwest of Ireland, settling in New York City. We’d heard that San Ignacio was a happenin’ street, but it seemed quite sane and simple for most of the route from the cathedral to the mercado. Even the initial street art and public murals seemed uninspired. We continued walking to the south, with me noting wall art until we arrived at the Plaza Vieja. From sun-deprived narrow streets, we entered into a bright, sunlit collection of architectural gems with a few sculpture installations. Back to San Ignacio, a band was entertaining in a café, a trio were providing a beat, and the pavement changed from rough cobble to smooth macadam.

At the end of San Ignacio stood the Iglesia de San Francisco de Padua, a neighborhood church on the seawall, its dark wooden doors closed behind locked metal gates. Off to its right was a huge sheet metal-clad warehouse, the main mercado for Old Havana. Stepping down to the lower floor, narrow passageways ran off to the west, lined with small wooden stalls painted white and proffering all manner of small goods. Vendors aggressively solicited the three of us to check out their wares, promising good prices. Walking down one of the broader paths, Carla needed shirts for nephews, while Robin was looking at soccer jerseys. We were offered all manner of clothing, with t-shirts and hats abounding.

After about a half hour, without checking out the stalls upstairs (arts and crafts were featured), we exited and decided to follow the waterfront back towards the hostel. An active port, we could see into the three arms of the inner harbor with some ships unloading. Pocket parks featured art installations, some of the buildings had been spiffed up, several museums filled pier buildings. As San Pedro Avenida approached the ferry terminal, the Russian Orthodox cathedral broke through the trees on the corner’s opposite side. I checked, but gates and doors weren’t open, but the custodian advised its open hours for 9-10 the following morning.

View of the waterfront ceased, as the maritime museum and cruise terminal extended from the ferry building. We crossed into a streetside park, and I was able to show Carla and Robin the exterior of the Greek Orthodox cathedral, which seemed to just be closing. We walked through a memorial garden and around to the Plaza de San Francisco de Asis and its minor basilica church. The church was deconsecrated after the 11-month occupation in 1762-63 by the British, and, until recent repair work, has been an art and music school and exhibition location.

Waterfront buildings ceased, and our view across the harbor entrance canal opened, allowing us to view the large statue of Christ of Havana on the opposite embankment. We turned inland and walked Obispo passing the mosque, which was beginning to prepare for evening prayers. Into the Plaza de Armas and around the Royal Forces castle, we strolled through the two parks that border the harbor canal. Archeological work on the old water system was visible. Small boats were beached on the stone plaza. A sunken trench had cannons striping the sand filling the trough. And all around us were classic cars looking for passengers.

Off against an embankment, people and motorcycles were queued up. We weren’t able to determine why until we walked further around the corner, where a city bus (Ciclobus) was loading the bikes and passengers on, to bring them through the tunnel and the far side of the port. In the several parks at the south point of the harbor entrance, young barefoot men were holding an impromptu football (soccer) game. We passed the Spanish embassy, a three-story colonial building, the Spanish ensign and the EU flag flying from its roof.

Up until that point, we hadn’t really seen much hurricane damage. Three large trees, trunks and crowns removed, lay on their sides with roots exposed. The path of this most recent storm had passed a bit further to the west, but cleanup had been thorough and blackouts were rare while we were in Havana. The sun was beginning its descent for the day, as we climbed the stairs from the street to our chambers.

After unloading our purchases, showering and changing, we joined Adrian for dinner. We had a brief walk to a local eatery, but we left when they were unable to provide any of the items we had picked off the menu. Adrian then led us on a serious hike (fifteen minutes in the relative darkness), past Plaza de Armas and its tank display. Arriving at a closed street, we secured the last two small 3-person tables on the street at Antojos.

Apparently, this was a major score, as folks arriving later queued up by leaning against the building walls awaiting the availability of a table, inside or outside. I noted that it was a pretty chic crowd. I ordered a chicken dish as my main, while Carla and Robin just had appetizers. Their meals were served quickly, while I managed to nurse a michelada until Adrian had to prompt them to get my dinner.

Thursday morning I arranged to have a taxi just before nine. Once I finished my breakfast, I went downstairs with the night porter and we had to walk to the corner to hail a taxi. I was at the Catedral Ortodoxa Nuestra Señora de Kazán just after 9, however it was 10 minutes until the custodian appeared. Another 5 minutes and he opened the upper gate and allowed me in. Initially he prohibited my photo taking, but after slipping a 500CP note into the box, I was allowed.

A square space, taller than wide, the walls and vault are white. Fitted between two columns, the iconostasis displays three levels of gold-backed icons, its three doors closed. More icons are placed around the nave, on stands and mounted on walls. The interior dome was, surprisingly, unadorned.

Few taxis rode past, so I walked up to the St Francis of Assisi Plaza and found an available car. He took me on a longer ride than my earlier one, possibly due to traffic restrictions. Along the malecon, he drove several thousand feet before making a U-turn and subsequently dropping me off. The fare was double earlier’s at 2000CP.

We were making a later start for our walking tour of Havana, with Adrian meeting us at 10. I was back a quarter hour early, so use the time to connect to the house wifi and check my Friday flight status. Once Mei and Dhong returned from their morning walk, the team gathered and we left for the Castillo de San Salvador de la Punta and the domed Museo de la Revolución, the first of the four squares we would visit on the walk.

We worked our way along the malecon and then the cathedral square. Adrian pointed out some buildings of colonial import, including a pair of letterbox openings that featured in some political shakeups. Passing the Grand Army Plaza, we saw the Police “castle” again. A feature I remember from my 2018 visit, we walked along the only block’s street paved with wooden blocks. We crossed St Francis Plaza. Our tour ended at the Vieja Plaza, where we heard more about colonial architecture. We decided to stop there at the brewery, where I had a beer.

Crossing to an opposite corner, we entered La Vitrola for lunch where I ordered pasta al pesto with another beer. Tasty once I got my grated cheese. A group of seven musicians entertained us. Strolling a bit with Carla and Robin, I treated them to a gelato (yummy) and we continued to stroll in the shopping district, following Obispo. We poked into a number of shops and galleries. I managed to find and buy Cuban skivvies. Crossing the Paseo de Marti, the grand boulevard, we headed north on Consulado, a neighborhood street. (Not really a tourist area.)

We were back at the Malecon Sunset around 4, and I decided to get my final packing done. Danny began his arrangement for a taxi to the airport, as Robin and I were flying out about the same time – she on American to Miami and me on Southwest to Tampa. All packed, I took an hour nap.

Risotto with chicken and bacon, grated cheese

More email processed before we left, actually returning to Consulado and a small restaurant. I ordered an appetizer, expecting a small serving, but the garbanzo frito was a large bowl of beans in sauce, which I only had a third of. My main, risotto with chicken and bacon got the parmesan treatment, and I was able to eat maybe half. We took both leftovers away, asking the night porter to distribute to street people after we all crashed.

Day 15 – Return

Adrian had collected his tip from us when he left us the prior night, so he wouldn’t need to chase across town to bid us farewell. My tip included all my pesos, and the tip took most of my larger remaining bills too. Breakfast was fruit, coffee, juice and eggs with avocado toast.

Enrique, the night porter, collected the bags for Robin and me, taking them down to the street, while Danny escorted us down the stairs and into the waiting taxi. We were nearly at the airport when the driver asked if he might make a pit stop. We were early, so a tree in the approach parking lot was blessed. Robin left at terminal 2 first, while I was dropped at terminal 3. I had to wait 15 minutes before the counter opened. A separate line for the Tampa flight, my bag was 18.5kg, well within restrictions. After clearing Cuban Immigration, with a stamp on my boarding pass, not in my passport, I was in the waiting area at 10am for a 12:35 flight!

There was a half hour of free wifi, which I used to peruse my email, subject to whatever limitations the Cuban authorities threw up. It was bright and sunny, warm in the half-filled lounge. I got 2 small bottles of water, drinking one before boarding. Mobility-limited were wheeled out on the tarmac first, having to climb the stairs to enter the plane from the front. Regular passengers hauled their carry-on bags up the stairs in the back. The plane was barely half full.

With liftoff at 1, we were in Tampa an hour later. US Immigration asked what I had done to support the Cuban people while I was there, a question I hadn’t been prepared for but apparently answered well enough. My bag came off the carousel quickly, and I met Dave at the Customs exit from the secure zone into the terminal. We were underway and heading home with good timing.

Afterthoughts

Friends have asked about the “classic cars” of Havana / Cuba”. While I consider a car to be 5 wheels (four on the ground, one in your hands,) I did manage to capture 70 pictures which I’ve extracted to a NikonImage album. You’ll be able to view but not download.

Bottom line: this was a worthwhile and interesting experience. I am glad I had the wherewithal to make the trip. However, I don’t think I will return to Cuba and I would advise caution to anyone before booking. (Particularly if their umbilical cord to the internet needs constant traffic!)

Returning for a visit to Cuba had been on my bucket list since the cruise in 2018 – I had enjoyed Havana and Matanzas and wanted to see more of the island country. While my first attempt had failed, I was able to book with Cuban Adventures for November 2024. The 15-Day Original Tour would expose me to all but the western quarter of the island. Plus, after my “obsession” research, I should have been able to add 9 of the 10 cathedrals to add to the 5 I’d already seen.

With lots of traveling experience under my belt, I was expecting to see a third-world (or “lesser developed”) country, similar to places I’d seen in other Caribbean islands. Havana had been full of contrasts, but Matanzas looked spiffed up, and I thought the rest of Cuba would be similar. This proved to not be the case.

Infrastructure issues persist. Hurricanes continue to visit havoc. While I was cruising in October, a hurricane had landed in eastern Cuba, resulting in 4 days of island-wide power outages. In our tour bus, roads had received limited maintenance; petrol sources were a continuing issue of concern. The embargo led by the US government, coupled with the collapse of the Soviet bloc in 1990 and its support of Cuba, is evident. The incoming US government does not bode well for Cuba. There is corruption in the high places of their government.

On reflecting, I feel that entirely too much daylight time was spent in transit. While the itinerary was thorough, it was too much in too little time. I realize that the distances involved require passing through a lot of agricultural land, seeing fields and fields of sugar cane. I don’t know a solution – other than perhaps finding a way to start in Holguin to eliminate the initial eastbound transit of the island.

The orientation talks were typically given at arrival, which once Daylight Savings Time ended, meant that most were done at sunset. Coupled with power outages, this made these walks hazardous. Perhaps this tour should be limited to summer?

Our guide Adrian focused his talks on the two revolutions in Cuban history, both near mid-centuries. His tone implied that all of Cuba’s problems are directly due to the US – Spain, with 400 years of dominance and possession, is given a free ride. He would color almost every stop’s lecture thus. As a former history teacher, I would have expected less blatant bias.

This was marketed as an English-language tour. Six people booked it, one did not arrive. Our make-up consisted of 2 women in their early-mid forties, Carla from Porto, Portugal, and Robin from Houston, Texas – both were fluent in English. Mei lives in Seattle, carries a Canadian passport, is retired from working at Microsoft but was born in Beijing; her aunt Dhong splits her living between Bucharest, Romania and Beijing, China, but has no English. Mei spent much time speaking Mandarin with her, often ignoring Adrian and requiring him to repeat. Further, “Les Chinoises” would skip dinners, excluding themselves from the team experience.

Lodging in hostels is apparently the main method of overnighting. Higher-end hotels are government owned and run, which could be in violation of home country regulations. Most have alternate power options, useful in a time of power outages. I augmented my booking to give me private space, expecting wider mattresses than the twin beds I had on several occasions. The beds were very hard and the pillows were “chicklets” of hard foam or sacks of crumbled foam. My neck regularly complained. Shower water required patience to run hot, and water pressure was barely sufficient.

Food was a big disappointment. Options were limited, seasoning lacked, and overall, I felt I really hadn’t had more than a couple of good meals. Yes, the power outages affected preparation, but I anticipated native/creole influences in the flavoring. Beverage choices were similarly limited. (Rum abound!)