| Cuba |
Chill out in BaracoaFrom Villa Santo Domingo we go by taxi to Bayamo where we'll catch the bus to Santiago. When we drive out of Villa Santo Domingo, we have to get out of the Lada-taxi because the car cannot get up the hill. We do not have to push though. Past Bartolome Maso orange trees run along the road. We get out and together with the taxi-driver fill a few bags with the fruit. The driver is surprised when I start to peel one. It turns out to be a sour orange, more a lemon alike, and mainly used for jugos (juice). A sweltering heat rules over Bayamo. With aching muscles we explore the town, stopping three times for ice-cream, drinking zapote juice, and being transported in a horse carriage twice. We do not meet many tourists. The people are eager to talk with us and very friendly. Bayamo proves to be a quiet beautiful city, a little off the tourist trail and well worth the detour. In the evening we take the Viazul bus to Santiago. Tomorrow morning at 7H30 the bus for Baracoa leaves. We take a casa near the bus station, in the green and quiet area Terrazas. The owner has email at home and we are glad we can use it to send some news home. For dinner we have spaghetti in Cafeteria Las Americas nearby. At 4H30 a cock wakes us up. This has happened before on the trip, and fortunately we brought earplugs. We doze till 6H, take a warm shower, have breakfast and then jump in the Cubataxi to the bus terminal. It is a long ride to Baracoa and the air-conditioning in the bus makes us feel quite drowsy. The last part of the bus ride leads us along twisting roads through the mountains. We are driving on La Farola, the highway across the Sierra built in the 1960's. Up till then Baracoa had only been accessible by sea. The bus stops and women come in, carrying bunches of bananas, chocolate, coffee and cucurucho. We buy a cucurucho. This is a sweet, a speciality of Baracoa, made out of coconut. The sticky paste is beautifully wrapped in a banana leaf. With our fingers we dig into the paste till we are all sticky and satiated. When we leave the mountains, tropical vegetation surrounds us. Baracoa turns out to be a quite big town on the coast, with a beautiful malecon, a grey-brownish beach bordered with palms, and a lot of unfinished concrete buildings. We had imagined a small village, Fiji alike, and it is a bit of a disenchantment. The casa we had in mind, is occupied, but we are lead to another one nearby. This casa is fairly new and everything is well-organized, but it is a bit small and there is no terrace or patio. Then again, we only pay 10 dollars and the people are very friendly. To save our precious time left in Cuba, we 'd like to fly back to La Habana. In the LP we'd read there are many direct flights back to La Habana and an Aerotaxi service back to Santiago, from where there are many flights a day to La Habana. In the Cubana office they tell us there are only two flights a week, on Thursday and Sunday and that the two following flights are all occupied. We climb the stairs up to Hotel El Castillo to get more information on the Aerotaxi to Santiago. They tell us curtly there is one every day. On the terrace we have coffee admiring the beautiful sight on El Yunque, an impressive table-mountain a bit inland. Something is stirring inside me, urging to climb this mountain. BUT…we cannot even walk properly yet because of the aching of our muscles and we've come to Baracoa especially for a rest! "Already going for another hike? Out of the question! Look at this beautiful pool here, why not hang out lazily on the terrace, sipping a mojito, reading a book and taking a dip in the cool transparent water every now and then…" "Hmm, we'll see." Now we still have not all the information we want on the flights and decide that to take a taxi to the airport should be the best way to get all the necessary information. The office is closing and the man at the door cannot help us. The men working outside tell the taxi-driver there is no Aerotaxi service to Santiago anymore, and confirm that Cubana flies to La Habana each Thursday and Sunday. Once again, or better, finally, we realize that travelling on a tight time-schedule in Cuba is a lost cause. Time for a treat! We go to "La Casa del Chocolate" and wait in the row till we can get two empty seats inside. We order ice-cream and wait another half an hour before we get it, but what the heck! we have time. The coconut-vanilla ice-cream is delicious and well worth the waiting. On the plaza in front of the cathedral we admire the bust of the Indian chief Hatuey, souvenir of a cruel history. In 1512, when the Spanish settled down in Baracoa, Hatuey, in his attempt to resist the Spanish, was burnt at the stake. Later, we walk to the malecon and peep into Hotel La Rusa, a hotel built by the Russian woman Magdalena Rovieskuya. Alejo Carpentier wrote a book about her. Fidel and Che were guests here. The yellow hotel, overlooking the malecon, seems nothing special now, compared to the luxury of Hotel El Castillo. Finally, we walk back to our casa. Tired and still stiff from the hike, after an afternoon spent roaming about Baracoa, not being able to settle down, we really need a rest. Next morning, a friend taxi-driver of the house picks us up and drives us to Playa Maguana. Sitting on the beautiful beach, back leaning against a tree, turquoise sea in front, we had longed for this moment! We enjoy a day of swimming, reading, and being lazy. The sun and the heavenly spot fill us with great joy and a few salsa-steps are performed on the empty beach. In the afternoon, we shelter from the sun on the pleasant terrace of Villa Maguana. Back home, Baracoa is getting ready for Saturday night. The streets are filled with food- and drink-stalls and transformed into one huge terrace. The Saturday evening mass has just finished and loads of people flow out of the cathedral. We slip inside to get a glimpse of the Cruz the La Parra, the cross Christopher Colombus planted on a beach at the outskirts of town, when he first reached Cuba. In the front of the left wing, we encounter the cross, well preserved and protected behind glass. Glowing all over, we sit down on the terrace of La Rusa. The beautiful and quiet scenery compensates for the frugal meal. In the local cigar factory we had bought a puro for one peso, and after dinner we sit down on the malecon to smoke. We enjoy the atmosphere more than the cigar itself. Of course we are no connoisseurs, but I guess there must be better cigars available than this specimen. No complaints about the ratio of price to quality though. After a final mojito in Cafeteria El Parque where a band is playing some salsa, we go home. I take my Cuba-book "The Mambo Kings Play Songs Of Love" with me in bed, but the kings are not able to keep my eyes open tonight. We cannot resist the temptation of El Yunque and on this fresh Sunday morning the taxi-driver from yesterday is bringing us to the mountain. We leave the asphalt and on a dirt track drive to Campismo El Yunque. Every now and then, we get a glimpse of the mountain. Beautiful and wild, it seems, and the nearer we get, the more thrilled I get. Is this a remnant of the tepuy-fever I caught in La Gran Sabana, Venezuela ? Could be… The campismo is very quiet. Most of the Cubans left early in the morning. A guide welcomes us and explains us about the hike. We pay the entrance fee to the national park and a young guide accompanies us. Across the river Duaba and then through cocoa plantations uphill. I am flabbergasted by the perfection of the cocoa fruit. A deep aubergine red, shining and beautifully formed, it sprouts out of the trunk of the cocoa tree. A close-up picture will fill my desk at home with a tropical breeze. The vegetation is abundant and luxuriant, tropical. The climbing without backpack is peanuts. Only the heat makes it a bit hard. The sides of El Yunque are covered with plantations and campesino's climb the mountain each day to work up here. On the top - 575 m high - there is no path : a rocky uneven soil and many bushes and insects. Antonio Maceo's bust welcomes us here. We have a beautiful view on the coast, the airport, the town and the green hinterland. A few huts are barely visible between the palm trees beneath us. We eat the remaining sour oranges and drink some water. During the descent we see a carpintero (woodpecker), some tocororo's and a zunzun. The large rock pool in the Duaba is waiting for us. The cool, sweet water is incredibly refreshing. I swim to the other side and sit down on a boulder, my legs in the water. "Hmm it's so nice in the sun…" And a bit later… "Strange kind of tickling on my legs though.." I look down and see dozens of small worm-like fish sucking the skin of my legs. They are a few centimeters long, very thin, and the most remarkable thing about them, are their big eyes. This observation takes only a fraction of a second. I shake them off and swim back to Paul and the guide, who are taking a nap on a warm boulder a bit further. We see we are getting late for the taxi. This does not in the least worry us though. One more dip in the river… Then we put on our clothes and walk to the campismo. As we thought, the car is not there. We thank our guide, give him a tip and start walking the dirt track to meet the car. After 45 minutes we hear the roaring of the motor. It appears that the brakes do not work anymore and that the driver had to look all over Baracoa to find a garage. Which he did not find, and therefore he has to drive very slowly. We do not mind because we enjoyed the walk in the shadow of the silent cocoa trees a lot. A bit later, sipping a caipirinha, we contemplate the sunset above El Yunque from the terrace of El Castillo. The palm-dotted hills stretch out in front of us in different shades of blue, ranging from pale blue to almost black. Mightily El Yunque rises out above them. At home, a meal of dorado (fish), tomato- and cucumber-salad, fried plantain and boniato (sweet potato) and a pile of rice, awaits us.
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