Barrier Reef

The days in Caye Caulker, Belize have blended together. After initially feeling unsure about our lodgings and the food options here on the island, everything fell into place and our plan of 4 nights turned into 6, which then turned into 7 (buy 6, get 1 free). Below is a rough sketch of what happened.

The Cabin: 

      The setting of our accommodations is perfect, right on the water and up on stilts. The only concerns we had were the smell of the bathroom and the other rustic aspects. I blame my initial reluctance on the long travel day to get here and comparison to some of the clean hotels we have been staying at. After a decent nights sleep and an afternoon sitting back on the front porch, looking at the water and feeling the wind, we realized this is exactly what we were looking for out here. We checked other places, most were cleaner and some even were equal in price, but none really compared. I would say this cabin is the primary reason we extended our stay.

                                               Where we spend most of our time

Standing on the rickety wood planks that extend from our property out onto the water, we had looked in either direction and had dock envy. Clean wood structures with thatched roofs, hammocks, and lounge chairs. Without any real sandy beaches here, some hotels clear the sea grass around their dock so guests can swim, but not ours. This would turn out to be a non-issue as our porch view more than sufficed and our swimming could be done up at "The Split" (I will explain later).

Inside our cabin, it feels like a tree house with exposed wood siding painted purple, white, and sky blue. The bathroom has a half-sized swing door and the shower is a slow drizzle. There is also no mirror, which is always interesting. The freedom that comes with walking out the front door, not caring what you look like, is nice. You learn to let go of the worries that plague your life back home. Sure, I would look homeless and could probably make a few bucks if I walked around downtown Portland, but here nobody cares. That is generally true for backpacking anywhere, most travelers don't shave or get haircuts. They wear dirty torn clothing or ponchos and puffy pants, things that emphasize their escape from normal life. It is a little less extreme for us; Julia has used the IPad photobooth as a mirror a couple times and I may have taken a selfie once. But for the most part, I have no idea what my wind-blown salty hair and beard are doing, and I like it that way.                       

                                                                  Inside

The People:

        Caye Caulker is the most diverse place we have been. Immigrants from all over the world have settled here, either because they love the water or they saw a cheap English speaking place to live and make money off of tourists. The most prominent group is the Latino population. Some are originals, others came over from Mexico or Guatemala. They speak Spanish amongst their friends and family, but can switch to English depending on their audience. 

The other major group is the Creole people. They give the place a Jamaican feel, with the accents and dreadlocks. Bob Marely music and paraphanalia are everywhere and tourists are constantly offered ganja. Shops have names like "Anda De Wata" and "Ragamuffin Tours", and signs that advertise "Di' 1 & only". They are a little more outgoing and aren't afraid to let a woman know that she is attractive and wonder if she would like to hold hands. 

Rounding out the population are a good number of people from SE Asia, many of whom run restaurants attached to convienence stores. Plus a fair amount of Canadians, French, and other white people who visited and never left. For the most part, everyone mingles together in harmony and live by the island's "go slow" motto. 

The Food:

         With the mixture of people talked about above, the food options are actually quite good and varied, albeit expensive. The major theme is Creole dishes of either Chicken or Seafood, with rice. We splurged one night after seeing a spot on the main strip that was constantly crowded and had a charismatic owner. Simply called "Fran's Grill" and serving out of a small yellow wood shed, we sat at a picnic table and chatted with a couple from Lake Tahoe while drinking our 2 free rum cocktails and waiting for the meals to come out. Offering only 3 mains and no choice on sides (all come with curry rice and mashed potatoes), we went with the Red Snapper in garlic sauce and the shrimp in a coconut pineapple sauce. Both were excellent and the free chocolate cake topped it off. It ended up being our 2nd most expensive meal of the trip at $26, but we were happy that we got our seafood fix.

       

We also found the Chinese food to be most excellent and cheap. One small counter attached to a store had no tables but a good stream of locals popping in for fried rice to-go. We got beef chowmein and chicken curry rice, spent $12, and had enough leftovers for lunch the next day. That made me very happy. 

 Eating piles of Chinese food, watching street basketball

Then we found the cheapest options; a couple local food carts or shacks that offer tacos of all types, burritos, and burgers. Plus a local kitchen attached to a home, similar to what we had found in other countries, offering empañadas, baleadas (a Honduran quesadilla type thing), and other fried stuff. Our meal there was about $5. 

      Empañadas for me, Julia is cutting the baleada

The Island:

         From our cabin, there is a sand path that hugs the eastern shore, past multiple hotels, to the ferry dock. It makes for a nice walk although it gets a bit dark at night and seems to be popular with bicyclists. To the south of us, the path crosses the small airport where small planes jump between islands. And further south it turns into smelly, uninhabited mangrove wetlands. Most locals live on the western shore or central. Colorful stilted houses filled with generations of families and gated condos for the expats.

There is a main sand road that travels up the east side which is sometimes crowded with golf carts, bicyclists, and walkers. No cars out here, but you will see the rare truck delivering stuff. The road comes to an end up north at "The Split", a channel that splits the island in half, created during a hurricane back in the 1960's. Most tourists go there and the people watching is world class. It has a bar named the "Lazy Lizzard" but many just hang out on dock and swim out to a sand bar. We roll up there about every other day to git in de wata. 

                                                       Lounging around "The Split"

                                               Walking down the main drag

The main road has most of the tourist shops and restaurants. They brag about their food or tours and it is tougher to ignore them since they speak English. Now that we have been here for a while, I feel like some of them have started to give up on us. In general, basic needs are more expensive here than anywhere else we have found. Even the price of laundry service shocked us. The lady said it was 15 BZ$ per load (most places go by weight), and we thought we had just over 1 load worth. When we picked it up, we were shocked to hear it was over 2 loads and would cost us 40 BZ$ ($20 US). The most we had paid this trip was $10 US, and that was for an even bigger load. Julia questioned the ladies numbers and asked to see her washing machine. Eventually she talked her down to 35 BZ$ and we learned a valuable lesson; only do laundry by weight to get the cost upfront, and look around town more because we later found multiple laundry sites that would have been cheaper.  

The Reef:

          Just 1 mile off-shore is the 2nd longest barrier reef in the world (after the Great Barrier Reef). You can see the waves breaking over it in the distance. We knew we needed to at least go see it, so we booked a 3 hour trip to snorkel a few spots. Paired with just 2 other girls, the guide swam us around trying to point out things. No really huge schools of fish, but a good variety and some great coral. We saw the following things; Nurse Shark, Lobster, Squid, Lion Fish, Barracuda, Sea Turtle, Angel Fish, and other colorful stuff.

                                                       Nurse Shark

              Some colorful fish and coral

At one point the guide pointed to a hole and said there was a Moray Green Eel down there. He encouraged us to dive down to see it, saying it was harmless and wouldn't leave its dwellings. I dove once but couldn't really see anything. Shortly after, the Eel came out and began swimming right at me. I have witnesses. I think he was following the rule of attacking the biggest guy out of the group, so the others run away. Well... he got within a few feet of me when the guide used his poking stick to distract him, and he retreated back to the coral. The group laughed at me but it could have been ugly. I researched Eels later and found out that they will bite divers fingers off when they try to feed them, or will attack if they feel their burrow is disturbed. I would have probably kicked it with my flippers, but who knows, if it would have got it's teeth into me, I would probably never go back into the water. 

                               The eel coming at me while I bravely snapped photos 

                                             The guide distracting the eel

Our last stop of the tour was "Shark Ray Alley", where they throw sardines into the water so that the Nurse Sharks and Eagle Rays gather around the boat. A bit controversial and fake, but still kinda cool and heart pounding. I would like to point out that I was the first one into the water to snorkel around the sea monsters. After a few seconds, you realize they don't notice you and we kept our distance and watched. Now we can say we swam with sharks and my fear of rays has gone down just a little. 

                             Nurse Sharks and other fish feeding on sardines

                                  The Rays soon came over to get some grub

The other major attraction down here is the "Blue Hole", a sinkhole in the middle of the reef about 400ft deep and 1,000ft wide. If you don't know about it, you should look up pictures on the web. All tours out there are very expensive and it is mostly a diving destination, plus it is a 2hr boat ride away. I feel the need to mention it because it is probably the first thing most people think about when they hear Belize, and we didn't go see it. Maybe next time. 

The Future:

      That basically sums up our week here on the island. The rest and relaxation has been good but we are getting a bit lazy and are ready to get back on the road. Tomorrow (Monday) we will take the ferry back into Belize City before heading further west on Tuesday. Then we will dip back into Guatemala for a week or 2 to see some more ruins and natural wonders. We have been on the hot Caribbean coast for a long time now and look forward to the cool forests and hills further inland. I can't remember the last time I wore a long sleeve shirt. Who knows, I might even look in a mirror and decide to shave.

Adios Mexico

Upon returning to the mainland, we decided to catch a bus to Playa del Carmen although our goal was to get to Tulum. Cubana Air supposedly has a reputation of overbooking flights and frequent delays, which they live up to. We left Cuba 90 minutes late so decided we might arrive too late to Tulum. We found a bright pink hotel right next to the bus terminal and then set out for food. Playa del Carmen is kind of a silly city; it's designed for those wanting the beach and the touristy shops everywhere feel of Cancún, but for a bit cheaper. So, just like Cancún, it's touristy "Mexico" and not even close to real Mexico. We wandered the endless streets of stores and found Chinese food that Micah picked for our dinner spot.

Friday we caught the 11:50am hour-long bus ride to Tulum. We opted to stay in Tulum Pueblo, the inland town center 3 kms from the ruins. Our other option was the hotel strip right next to the ruins. It took a bit of wandering in and out of doors before we found a nice but decent priced hotel, Hotel Chilam Balam. We had two comfortable beds, air-con, a TV with one English channel, and Internet. Honestly, it was a bit hard to leave that room after so many travel days and two weeks without Internet.  We pulled ourselves together around 4pm to eat local tacos and gringas (similar to quesadilla) at a stand with a small sit down room. After checking out some of the souvenir shops that line the streets and buying water, we returned to our hotel and caught up on the new episode of Mad Men, thanks to the Internet and Emily sending us the show.

Saturday morning we grabbed a few over priced pastries from a cafe, met our first real Portlanders, and then walked the 3km to the ruins. The couple from Portland asked about our travels and when we told them we were traveling for a year, the guy blurted out, "how? You get inheritance money?" We laughed, told him we planned for nearly 2 years and saved, but I appreciated his quick filter-less response because I wonder how many people assume someone else is forking our bill. This led to Micah and my discussion about people's perception of travel and how it is possible to travel cheaper than most do, by staying in hostals (we've paid $9-$30 per night everywhere but all inclusive heaven in Cuba) and eating local food instead of big restaurants (we've had 2 meals over $20, most are under $10 and a lot are under $5). We discussed this while we walked to the ruins, as bikes and cabs whizzed by with other tourists, making our point all the clearer!

Tulum ruins were worth the visit, set beautifully on a cliff overlooking the Carribean. The ruins themselves weren't as impressive as Palenque or Chichén Ítza, but the location is amazing. We were able to walk down from the ruins on to the beach where people were swimming, but we decided to leave the ruins and walk further to the public beaches for a quick swim. There was more seaweed floating in the choppy water, but it was refreshing to spend a couple hours there and Micah even worked on his sand castle building skills. We walked to the main road, now near the hotel zone, and caught a taxi. A man working at one of the hotels asked where we were going and we settled on 60 pesos, talking him down from 80. He flagged a taxi down, we assumed filled the driver in on our destination although we told him the hotel name again to be sure and we took off. Five minutes later, he pulled in front of Hotel Shebalam and said "adios!" and stuck out his hand for payment. We said wrong, and showed him our key with the hotel name (Chilam Balam) on it. He seemed annoyed and back tracked all the way past our original spot to our hotel, 10 minutes away. When we arrived a few blocks away and told him we could walk from there, we got a mini lecture about this area being Centro and that we need to specify. We were feeling equally fire-y and informed him that we did tell that to the man who flagged him down and told him where to take us. He didn't seem to understand or care and kept telling us, so Micah handed him the 60 pesos as we slid out of the cab. He demanded 10 more pesos, saying the price was 70, so we again told him the other guy said 60. I believe we learned a few spanish cuss words, so we shut the cab door and walked away. 

                                                       Tulum ruins

                                                        More ruins

                Ruins overlooking the sea

   What a 37 year old building a sand castle looks like

                         

While walking around on Friday, we spotted a few local empañada diners so hit one up for lunch after returning from the ruins. We each got a chorizo empañada, I got a carne, and Micah had a pollo with queso and a chicharron. One of my favorite perks of the food here is the drinks you can get; nearly everywhere serves a fresh fruit smoothie with milk or water for $1-2. They're always blended with chunks of the fruit right then and so refreshing in the heat. After lunch, we found some ice cream to wash down the spicy chorizo and checked what time our bus was leaving the next day then returned to our hotel for a little more R&R. Once the sun set we were back out on the street in search of our next meal. We found a burger and rib diner just off the main road and the hamburgers we had were by far the best we've had on this trip; Micah ordered one with an onion ring above and below the charcoal grilled patty. To walk dinner off, we headed towards the city park where we bought some churros for dessert. There was a girls soccer game going on in a field with a small cement wall around it, so we stood behind the fence and watched almost the entire game. They weren't overly skilled but it was fun to stand with the locals and get a bit lost in the moment, cheering for the girls and holding our breath when they almost scored (they never scored). I'm not sure we've mentioned how different littering is here but in all of Central America, people simply discard their trash by throwing it out of the bus window or dropping it on the sidewalk as they're strolling through the park. The soccer field the girls played on had a fair amount of trash in the corner where we stood, including a few plastic bottles that they would stumble on as they ran, but no one ever bothered to pick them up.

   Empañadas with pico sauce and sour cream, plus a strawberry smoothie

Sorry we're obsessed with talking about and taking pictures of our food

                                                      Soccer match

Sunday morning we left our hotel before 9am, picked up some bread and left on a bus headed towards Bacalar. We decided to stay one night in this town to break up our long travel day to Belize that was in our very near future. It was an easy 3 hour bus ride that dropped us off on the main road. We began walking towards the long, skinny lake of Bacalar around noon with no shade, as it seems we always find ourselves walking with packs on at this time. After a bit of a search, we settled on a hotel with a row of run down rooms that looked like it was once a very long trailer. We switched into swimsuits and headed towards the Laguna, stopping for tortas on the way. The first beach access we entered cost 10 pesos per person, had a large water slide, and was insanely overcrowded with people. We kept walking to the other access point, which was free to enter and had less people. We spent 2-3 hours alternating between sitting on the dock and jumping in the beautiful blue water to cool off. Around 5pm we made our way home before heading back out for dinner. We had a nice change in our diet, split a Caesar salad and a pizza for dinner, of course followed up by churros at a stand. The churro price has steadily increased during our trip, which has us concerned for the future. The churros this night were 30 pesos, although a very large serving. Initially we were paying 15 pesos for churros. This led to a full blown analysis of the churros we've eaten thus far on the trip. Our first churros were in Antigua (Guatemala) but the majority have been consumed in Mexico. The best, however, were the only churros we indulged in in Cuba. We prefer a combination of leche (milk) and chocolate drizzled on the churros. We hope to continue eating churros in Belize, Guatemala and Honduras and hope that the price comes back down.

                                                       Laguna Bacalar

Yesterday, Monday, turned out to be a long travel day. We left Bacalar around 8am to walk back to the main road to catch the bus. Had an hour long ride to Chetumal, the Mexican border town where we could catch a bus all the way to Belize City. It took a 30 minute walk, asking for directions multiple times, and one very nice man selling ice cream who spoke perfect English to walk us to where we were to switch buses in Chetumal. We left Mexico (but unfortunately had to pay an exit fee which we didn't think we'd be asked for) and entered our 6th country of the trip, Belize. The bus ride took 5 hours total and was uneventful, minus one event. I was listening to a podcast and oblivious to my surroundings, Micah was sitting in the aisle seat with people standing along the aisle. He tapped my shoulder and when I turned to look, he was pointing at the little girl standing next to him, holding her moms hand. On her other hand was a booger, on the tip of her extended index finer, about 2 inches away from Micah's thigh. Micah was terrified as she waved that adorable little finger around. 

We hopped off the bus and began to walk towards the boat taxi, which would take us to stop #32 of our trip, Caye Caulker, a small island just off the coast of Belize. We were able to exchange our pesos for the Belizean dollar just before the 45 minute water taxi ride to the island. We had found a place in our travel book that we were hopping to stay, on the southern side of the island with little foot traffic. After almost giving up, we found Ignacio's beach cabins. There are 10 cabins on stilts, painted bright purple and blue, small decks on each, and 20 steps from the water. Not too shabby for $25/night. We spent the rest of Monday afternoon exploring part of the island, the whole which can be done in an hour. We walked to the western side and caught the sun setting in to a cloud before eating a nice sit down dinner of coconut shrimp and creole chicken. 

                                                                Our digs

This morning we are plotting our next few days. We hope to take a boat trip to snorkel around the reef, eat some seafood, take a few dips in the Carribean, and figure out how to safely set up the hammock on our rickety porch. We anticipate staying on this little island for 4-5 days before we head inland for more big cities and touristy places to explore.

Pursuit of Happiness

(Editor's note: if you haven't read Julia's post about our first 6 days in Cuba, please do so now)

Cuba continued to be a combination of frustration and happiness. I will try and share some of my overall thoughts on the country as I update you on the 2nd half of our 12 days in the following paragraphs. 

Julia finished with our time in the beautiful but very touristy city of Trinidad. I just want to add that when we paid our Casa Dad for the 3 nights and meals, it was one of the rare times in life when it felt good to give someone money. He worked hard to make sure we had a good stay and cooked some great food. We know that the money will mean a lot to his family and it is so much better than giving it to some faceless hotel chain. I would definitely stay there again, despite the fact he charged us for the water they gave us at dinner and he had his shirt off most of the time. 

To leave Trinidad on Saturday, we arrived at the station at 7 AM for a bus to Ciego de Ávila at 8. We had failed to buy tickets in advance and there was some concern that the bus would be full. I was even more concerned when we saw the line of 40 other gringos leading into the bus office. The company is called Viazul and it was basically setup to get tourists around. They are expensive and very inefficient in terms of paperwork. They use the old typewriter printers that they must hand-feed and rip paper to the appropriate size. If you book ahead of time, they just give you a receipt that you use to check in 30 minutes before departure and then get your actual ticket. Thus, when the office doesn't open until 7, and they have buses leaving at 7:30 and 8, you get long lines of people with large backpacks. I was starting to miss the chicken bus system with their frequent departures and no paperwork. After anxiously waiting for 50 minutes, we were able to purchase tickets and made it onto our bus with a few minutes to spare. 

In Ciego de Ávila, we found a nice Casa Particular after a short walk. Since Trinidad, I had been having some negative thoughts about the tourist structure in Cuba, but being in this non-touristy town helped a lot. My main issues are with the double currency system that was setup in 1994 and the public transit system (which I will talk about more about later).

The tourist currency is Cuban Covertibles (or CUC) and the local money is Cuban Pesos (or CUP, also called Moneda National). 1 CUC is roughly equal to 24 pesos (and for reference, the CUC is set a 1:1 with the US dollar, although we lose a lot in conversions). Walking around Havana, we saw food counters with prices in pesos and would have to ask for the CUC price. They would be listed for 10 pesos but they would tell us 1 CUC when we asked, probably for simplicity sake. So, a few times we paid more than twice as much for sandwiches and drinks. The worst was in Trinidad when the guy told us a 10 peso pizza was 3 CUC (over 7 times the real price). We laughed and walked away, but knew that we had to get some of this local money. Luckily our kind Casa Dad in Trinidad gave me a good rate of 120 pesos for my 5 CUC. Now we were loaded and ready to eat local.

During our 21 hours in Ciego, we never saw another gringo and paid local prices for food. It started with us finding a guy making pork sandwiches from a cart. We got the price by watching other transactions and ordered 4 for 20 pesos. That is 81 cents to feed 2 people. Add in the 4 pesos we later paid for 2 glasses of lemonade, and you get $1. Now that was a good feeling and quickly changed my perception of Cuba. If you take nothing else away from this blog post, just remember that the local currency is a necessity if you want to experience real life down here (or you could just wait until they unify their currency, as I just read will happen at some point). I just wish we would have gotten some sooner.

            Julia enjoying some pork sandwiches

Later that afternoon, we checked out a museum loaded with old war memorabilia and some explanations in English. We sat around the central park watching kids run around before getting dinner. We each got bowls of rice and veggies with the meat of our choosing, plus a couple glasses of juice for 48 pesos (or $2). I was really starting to love that city. 

Sunday, we headed for the island of Cayo Coco with a decent idea of how to get there and where to stay. First leg was a 90 minute train ride north to Morón. The rail cars were fairly beat up but the ride was smooth and fun to be surrounded by locals doing local things. One guy had a wood box with a rooster in it. Another man asked to see the rooster and proceeded to hold and inspect it, giving an approving nod. 

                      Train ride north

The next leg was a $30 taxi for the 70 kms further north and across a causeway. We had a hotel picked out from the guide book and the driver dropped us off around 11 AM to a site that was undergoing major construction (we assume to get ready for the flood of Americans). It still appeared they had rooms to use so we walked into the office and waited for a lady to track someone down. It is important to know that the island was uninhabited until about 25 years ago and is now a popular destination for Canadians and Europeans who can take direct flights in and stay at all-inclusive resorts right on the beach. We knew this from the book, but hoped that this cheap hotel, a few kms from the beach, would allow us backpackers to enjoy the sites as well. So when a guy walked in and informed us that they had no rooms, it was a bit of a punch in the gut. We didn't really have a backup plan and were now kilometers from anything. My solution to most problems like this is to just start walking down the road... and so we did. 

                                            Thumbs down to Parthotel Azul

There was a gas station at the main roundabout after 1.5 kms. From there, we turned left and started walking toward the beach and resorts with nothing but trees on either side and no sign of civilization. It didn't take long before a service truck flipped a u-turn and kindly gave us a ride for the 4 kms down to the next roundabout and access to the resorts. We said "gracias" and gave him the coins I had in my pocket. We could now see buildings hidden behind the trees but still had no idea which direction to walk and what we would find. Making an educated guess, we headed west and soon stumbled upon a resort with a gated entrance and workers doing some gardening. After a brief chat with one of the guys who spoke English, they let us in to see how many limbs it would cost us. In a weird way, it was a really fun walk. I imagine most of you have been to a big resort at some point in your life, with the grand curving road entrance surrounded by flowers and statues. The big open reception area with workers in uniforms and air conditioning. Well... we walked into one of those places lugging huge backpacks and dripping in sweat, wondering if this had ever been done before. 

The receptionist was kind enough and showed us the price list while Julia asked if we could squeeze into a single. On our walk there, we decided that we would not retreat back to the mainland and had succumbed to the fact that an all-inclusive resort was probably our only option. Setting a price in our heads, when the guy said $171, it was high but a little encouraging. Entering the low season, prices were cheaper than the book led us to believe and we felt confident we could find a more reasonable place. 

We walked another 10 minutes down the main road before we found Hotel Colonial and another long guarded entry road. They let us in and we were pleased to hear the price of $140 per night. A little bit of a jump from the $10 we paid in Trinidad, but here we could swim, eat, and drink as much as our hearts desired. The beach was calm and crystal clear with white sand. We got a few drinks from the bar and ran into the water with sheer joy. I believe there is some kind of parable about going through lots of pain and struggle before getting to happiness. It must be true because I wouldn't have wanted to arrive there any other way. 

                                         Thumbs up for Hotel Colonial

                One of the many pools

                                          The beach at our hotel

              The clearest and calmest water we have seen (this is not the swimming pool)

The next 48 hours were spent eating and drinking until it hurt, followed by swimming.

Monday; we did what everyone does at a 5 star hotel, we washed our clothes in the bathtub and hung them to dry around the room and back patio. Later, we hopped on the tourist bus that goes around the island and stops at every resort, and we could see just how isolated the island is with just 10 huge resorts and not really anything else. It took us to Playa Pilar on Cayo Guillermo, one of the prettiest beaches on the Caribbean and Hemingway's favorite. It really was gorgeous. The sand was so fine it looked and felt like bread flour. It is lined by tree and cactus covered sand dunes. The water was a little choppy but still unbelievably clear. We walked to the rocky point and did some snorkeling, not expecting much. The water was a good depth (about 10 ft) and had lots of plant life. After seeing just a few stray colorful fish, Julia got my attention and pointed to the large school just ahead. It was a blanket of fish that went farther than we could see. Our best guesstimate is 5,000 -10,000, all the same color. They drifted with the waves and spread a little bit when I dove down or kicked. We floated for a few minutes in awe, trying to see where they ended but failed. We also saw a larger fish, about 5ft long with a pointed nose, swim by, spooking us a little. Unfortunately I made the rookie mistake of not charging my camera and the battery died. You will have to use your imagination. 

                                            Riding on top of the tourist bus

                                                             Playa Pilar

                                             Yes, that is sand on my foot

That night; we ate churros, enjoyed a pleasant sit-down meal, watched a salsa show, and caught some of the Blazer game on TV. 

On Tuesday, we got the most out of our wristbands with the breakfast buffet, swimming at the beach, packing and checking out right at 12:00, then eating lunch at the snack shop. This laid back time frame would prove to hurt us later on as we tried to get a cab back to Morón. We were told this wouldn't be a problem, but after the receptionist begrudgingly made about 5 phone calls with no luck, we told her we would flag one down and she happily hung up the phone. So it was in the heat of about 12:30 that we threw our packs on our shoulders and left the same way we came in... on foot. 

                                                           At least it is flat

Back down the road to the roundabout, no taxis in sight. We turned and headed in the direction of the main gas station where we figured taxis would be. Julia's waving at every vehicle paid off and we got a ride from a service truck that had seen us walking earlier. He dropped us at the gas station and we knew we were in the right place when we saw 30 locals on the side of the road taking shade in the trees. We saw 3 cabs in the parking lot but they apparently had better things to do. And so we waited in the trees, flailing our arms at every car that rolled by. One bus was going south and had people running after it, but gave the sign that he was full and people retreated to their seats. About a hour passed before one guy told us he had a friend who was a cab driver and offered to call him. We were desperate and already would miss the only onward bus from Morón to Santa Clara. A man rolled up in an Audi with a taxi sign on top and we painfully agreed to pay $40 for the ride. The guy who facilitated the deal rode in the front, we figure he got a piece of the action as well as a free ride home. Sometimes you just have to know they have the advantage and say it is only money. 

                  

Figuring things out on the fly now; in Morón we hopped the 4 PM train back down to Ciego de Ávila and were glad to be in a familiar place. We strolled up to the same Casa as last Saturday, stayed in the same room, and ate dinner at the same local kitchen. It was a nice way to transition back into real backpacking. We had experienced the frustrations of the Cuba transportation system firsthand. I am really not sure why they don't have more buses, with the number of people we see standing on the side of the road holding out money, they could easily support more routes. The few buses they have fill up quickly and the scene at local ticket windows is a mob of anxious travelers. Trucks and unofficial taxis fill the void, and we noticed locals in the terminals organizing themselves into groups to split fares instead of waiting. Taxis don't hesitate to run 7 hour trips for tourists, and with the high price of a Viazul bus, it is more convenient and almost as cheap for a large group. Maybe this will change, as we have heard another bus company is starting run some of the busier tourist routes, but we never saw it. 

Wednesday, we rode a bus for 7 hours back to Havana in order to catch our Thursday flight. A relatively easy thing to do compared to the past few days. Or at least it began that way. Right as we entered the big city limits, the skies opened up and some of the heaviest rains we have ever seen began to fall. Flashes of lightening could be viewed out the window with loud claps of thunder soon following. A few of the strikes seemed a little too close to our large vehicle made of metal. The streets turned into rivers as we passed half submerged classic cars. Our bus caused a good size wake that had people scrambling to close their doors and get out of the waves. The driver maneuvered well and got us to the covered terminal in one piece, for which he received a rousing round of applause.

                                 View of the Havana streets from our bus into town

We had originally planned to walk and find a Casa near the bus terminal, but that did not sound like fun, so we stayed dry in the terminal for about 30 minutes and came up with a new plan. Picking a hotel out of the travel guide near banks and other services in a suburb west of Havana, we negotiated a taxi down to $10 and jumped in. It was wild. The rain had not let up and numerous times our driver had to turn around due to high water. At one point, his co-pilot said to him (paraphrasing) "You are getting $15 for this, right?". To which he replied, "Nope, only $10", followed by some other stuff I couldn't understand. 

When he finally found our street, the water was so deep it began to flow in through the back doors. We now had pools of water at our feet and worried the car would break or be carried away. He found some higher ground at a dead end street and we offered to walk the rest of the way, assuming the hotel was close but mostly just wanting for the ride to be over. And so, yet again we found ourselves walking (or wading) down a road in hopes that something good would happen, battling the elements, this time pouring rain. On the sidewalk, the water was up to our knees, and we tried desperately to find street signs. A group was gathered under an entryway and we asked directions. They pointed us the way and advised us it was safer to walk in the middle of the road. The water now came up to my hips (Julia's waist) but luckily the hotel was in sight. Rolling into the recption office, the ladies reaction was priceless. She ushered us in and made the pain go away by saying they did indeed have a room and we didn't need to go back out side. A music themed hotel attached to a recording studio, our room was named "Bolero", a song I love that the group Pink Martini recorded an amazing version of. We were now able to laugh at the situation and clean our feet. 

                    Walking down the middle of the street looking for our hotel

The restaurant below our hotel was our only option for food, and it was reasonably priced with huge portions. When the rains finally stopped, it took about an hour for the storm drains to clear out and soon we could see the streets again. We walked a couple blocks to the sea wall, watched the waves crash against the rocks, and saw distinct bolts of lightning continuing in the distance. It was now calm and cool, and we enjoyed the air of our last night in Cuba. 

Thursday; we awoke to dirty streets and just a slight drizzle. The suburb streets are wide and tree lined, with the occasional international embassy office in an old large house. We did some last minute errands and got a ride to the airport in a rickety van driven by one of the hotel workers. Formalities were fairly straightforward and our flight was only 2 hrs delayed. We blew the last of our CUCs at the airport shops on food and souvenirs. I got a 2nd stamp in my passport from Cuba and have already started working on my story to the US immigration official when we eventually return. Although I imagine this will all be legal by then.

                           The stamps

I leave Cuba wondering if I will ever return. Having experienced the gritty city of Havana and the colonial gem of Trinidad, I don't think I will feel the need to roll through the main island anytime soon. The classic cars and architecture are surreal and transport you back in time. The people were very kind and the casa particulars are a great way to see how they live. The countryside was green and beautiful but the food was average. The rum is extremely cheap but the grocery stores are barren. What I do come away with is seeing the potential as a week long beach destination for Americans. The northern beaches are some of the best I have ever seen. The deep-sea fishing and diving is supposedly some the the best in the world, and at just 90 miles south of Florida, it will be an easy flight from the east coast. So I am recommending this as a future getaway to anyone who enjoys those things, but only if you can put up with Canadians in large numbers and small bathing suits. 

Land of A Million Drums

The pros to a 14 hour flight delay in Cancún: we only had to pay for a portion of the casa we reserved for Saturday night in Havana; we weren't asked to prove we had medical insurance which means we avoided paying $117 for Cuban insurance we (hopefully) wouldn't need, possibly because they didn't care at 6:40am when we finally arrived; the free voucher meal that my travel companion spoke of previously kept our bellies full for nearly 24 hours. The cons to a 14 hour flight delay: we still had to pay for a portion ($23 of $30) of the casa that we didn't sleep in Saturday night; we pulled an all-nighter on Saturday which, to be honest, we're too old to attempt; and we missed a large chunk of a day exploring Cuba.

                                       Taken at 2:51am, Sunday morning

Crossing the Cuban border was a breeze. Our bags were first to come off the conveyor belt, the money exchange desk was right outside the airport, and we found a taxi driver that was kind enough to take us to the doorstep of the casa we reserved. Entering back into the US may be a different story; I flirted with the border patrol to avoid getting my passport stamped. Micah, however, didn't bat his eyelashes or unbutton his shirt enough and has a noticeable pink stamp in his now. If you could all be so kind to start a change jar labeled "Micah's fee/bail money", we'd appreciate it. 

Since all the hotels in Cuba are government owned, we decided to do what most financially responsible tourists that want a real taste of Cuba do- rent a room in a locals home. The casa particulars are everywhere and therefore reasonably priced.  Most are located in the home (versus a detached apartment), above the living room or the first door at the end of the stairway and include a private bathroom, AC, and a mini fridge. Sunday around 7:30am we checked in to the casa that we booked for 3 nights and started our Cuba adventures with a 3 hour nap. Feeling slightly more energized, we made our way across downtown Havana in to Vedado, the western neighborhood and former mob run casino district, for live rumba music which occurs every Sunday at noon. We found the small archways that appeared to lead in to an alley but with a crowd congregating and the sound of African drums coming from within. Mostly locals were gathered around a central outdoor area where there were singers standing against a muraled wall with microphones, men banging on Congos to the left, and the lead singer in front of the crowd dancing around the man and woman rumba-ing in the center. We only stayed 15 minutes before we felt like we were drowning in our own sweat but it was a sweet way to be welcomed in to Cuba.

                                          Capitol building in Habana Vieja

                           Strolling along the malecón with Habana Centro in the distance

                                                                 Rumba!!

We ended up clocking on 5 miles on Sunday, simply walking all over Habana Vieja (Old Havana) where we were staying. Havana is exactly like it's described with a few surprises. There are more baby blue Chevys and Plymouths from the 1950s than modern day vehicles and most are in great condition. The buildings in Havana are at a minimum of 3 stories tall which means most homes have two doors to enter; one leads you in to a living area or down a hallway to an outdoor yard and the other takes you straight up a flight of stairs to the rest of the living quarters. The inside and outside of the home is decorated with exquisite detail, with 15' ceilings that fancy chandeliers hang from and large French doors that open up to a balcony with wet clothes hanging from a line. If the outside of the home doesn't have the original crown molding and artistic designs, it's painted a bright yellow, green, pink or blue. 

                                             In the heart of Habana Centro

                                                       Detailed facade

                                     Common living space in Havana casa

The Cubans are more aggressive and pushy than we've encountered yet, but it's a friendly and well-intentioned pushy. We've been a bit dissapointed with the lack of cheap food options so have our eyes peeled for food stands and homes that serve meals for a small charge. The first night in Havana we looked at a reader board outside one home, but spaghetti appeared to be the only choice so we walked away. A block later, we could hear a man yelling "hola amigos" which continued for 2 more blocks and made us a bit nervous. We should also mention that Havana Vieja is a happening place in the evening, with people littering the streets, doors to homes ajar, and alleys about as dark as they get. A bicycle taxi rode by us, pointing back to the yelling man indicating we were the amigos he was referring to, so we stopped and waited for him. Turns out he was from the house where we scanned the menu outside and he just wanted to inform us about the food and prices. In a very dark alley. Micah has also had a few kids beg for money and even tap his pants pocket to feel for change as we walk by (which he didn't know until I read this to him).

                                                Our favorite kind of Cubans

Monday morning we expected to change rooms in our casa since we were told they had other guests already booked in our room for that night. We assumed we'd just be moving down the hall, but the owner of our casa threw on one of our packs and walked us down the block and onto the next street to her friend's home. Rumor is that if you book a casa in advance, once you arrive it will most often be already occupied. Either way, Monday was another day of walking, mostly along the same malecón that we strolled on Sunday to get to Vedado. This day we had our eyes set across the water on Fortaleza de San Carlos de la Cabaña, the largest Spanish Fortress in the Americas (700m from one end to the other). After failing to find a taxi to take us through the underground tunnel for a price we were willing to pay, we refueled our negotiating powers with our first Cuban beverages: a mojito and a Cuban Libre, sitting on the waterfront none-the-less. Taxis practically begged us to ride in them after and we spent a couple hours wandering the fort, impressed with all the cannons and a decent panoramic of the city. We split the cab fare back across with 2 Canadians and continued to wander the city into the evening, somehow accumulating 5 more miles despite how sluggish we felt from Saturday's over nighter.

                                   Inside the Fortaleza de San Carlos de la Cabaña

                                               View of Havana from the fortress

We had 2 options to get to Cienfugos, our next stop, on Tuesday; take a bus for $20 each with a $10 taxi ride to the terminal and chances are tickets will be sold out if you don't buy in advance, or share a taxi with others for $30 each. We opted for the shared taxi for the 3.5 hour ride and arrived just after noon on Tuesday. We walked <5 minutes before we took our bags off in our new casa. I wanted to visit Cienfugos since it was first pioneered by the French rather than the Spanish and has preserved its French roots in the architecture. Which pretty much means we walked all day Tuesday. Found an extremely cheap lunch ($2 for 2 sandwiches and 2 drinks) and laughed when the waitress came to take our order but then told us they only had one item available on their menu- wasn't the first time this happened to us and we hear this is common in Cuba. We walked to the bus station on the other side of town before making our way again on a malecón towards a ritzier part of town, Punta Gorda. The malecón ended at a clean but small beach that was overcrowded with paddle boats and swimmers, and on shore were groups drinking straight from bottles of rum and one topless sunbather. We watched (the water, not her) and then headed back home, stopping at a restaurant for fried chicken, pizza, and Chinese wontons, the latter two from a freezer box. 

        Palacio de Valle, Moroccan architecture

      Sunset from the roof of our Cienfugos casa

Finally caught up on sleep by Wednesday morning and started our day with a plentiful breakfast at the casa. Some offer to cook breakfast or dinner for an extra charge ($3-$7 per person) and with the lack of authentic, traditional food we've found for cheap, this seems to be a great option. Our very sweet but aggressive casa mom liked speaking Spanish very fast to us. She tried to organize a friend to shuttle us to the terminal for our pre-paid bus to Trinidad at 12:45 but we declined, worried that we'd be expected to pay. We believe she then offered to phone a friend in Trinidad so we could stay at their casa, but we wanted to look around so said "no gracias" mostly, and a few "si?"s may have slipped in when we couldn't understand her.

      A mini photo shoot before we left our Cienfugos casa, as per our casa moms request

The bus ride to Trinidad was interesting at first. We sat in a lobby with 75 other people when a man came out and told the nationals to board the 12:45 to Trinidad. They did, leaving 8 gringos. We waited and at 12:47 another lady yelled "Trinidad" so we rushed to the bus, paid $1 to put both bags underneath and got on a bus full of tourists. Apparently they have separate buses for nationals and tourists. It made more sense when we pulled in to Trinidad 90 minutes later and nearly 100 locals were holding signs with names or pictures of a casa, anxiously awaiting to mob the tourists as they got off the tourists only bus. Apparently our aggressive casa mom did phone a friend on our behalf; there was a man holding a well crafted sign with JULIA and MICAH on it. It freaked me out so I ran by him and avoided eye contact. A few people followed us trying to convince us to stay with them but eventually lost interest since we ignored them. Then one guy said the magic words: ten dollars. We checked out his casa where he, his wife and son live and opted to spend the next 3 nights in the small room with a private bathroom and a poorly working AC. My favorite part about our room is that we nearly walk through their living room when we enter, which means we say a quick buenos to the shirtless dad with his son in his lap as they're playing video games on the tv.

         After checking in to our $10/night room, casa dad brought us fresh mango juice

Once we were established in our new casa, we set out to explore. We headed towards the peaceful Parque Central, found a free art gallery and the open air market. It's always interesting that there's new niches in each town, but that each vendor in the town sells practically the same thing (in Trinidad, it's embroidery, wooden spoons, and art). We ate a late lunch at a cheap but tasty cafeteria before making our way home to freshen up and test our AC. Around 7pm we headed back out to the plaza, where we encountered a stand in the street selling mojitos for $1.50; we promised to return and set our arbitrary mojito price in our head. After a sit down dinner with a couple of adult beverages, we headed to a bar that was on our must-see list. Palenque de Los Congos Realas had live music when we arrived and then at 10pm, the music changed from Salsa to Rumba. The well-known Rumba lasted 45 minutes, consisted of 3 men playing Congo drums, 3 standing behind with a variety of wooden shakers and 3 singing. A few minutes in to the show, a few younger males came on stage and danced traditional African style. Call me naive (wouldn't be the first time), but I didn't realize how strong African culture is rooted in Cuba. I assumed it would feel like a mixture of Latino, European and Carribean/Jamaican. It makes sense, once you begin to delve in to Cuba's complex history, and realize that the Spaniards and their African slaves settled in Cuba centuries ago. The smooth blending of so many cultures in Cuba is what has been the surprise for me, and the raw openness of the people to share it has been amazing. I'm so glad we're experiencing it before good ol' America puts a Starbucks on every corner.

               Parque Central. The Palm trees constantly remind me we're on an island.

                                                One of four market streets

                                                              More Rumba!

Thursday was our touristy day in Trinidad city. We started with a 30 minute uphill hike to a radio transmitter that overlooks the city, with medium sized mountains to the NW and the Carribean Sea visible to the SW. Most interesting part of the hike was the discoteca bar in a cave that we passed 10 minutes in to the hike. For lunch we found a man selling pizzas from a tiny oven on his doorstep before we made it back to the casa to wash some clothes in the sink. For the afternoon we visited two museums that had bell towers to climb for more great views and went back to the market in search of small trinkets. We also did our first casa dinner on Thursday night. Our casa dad asked what we wanted and we told him local, typical food. He nodded and said "ok, rice and beans." Although we had rice and beans 2 meals per day in Nicaragua, we haven't much since and it actually sounds good! We did get rice, but with a juicy pork chop, fried plantains, soup and fresh veggies. We headed back out after, as rumor has it that Trinidad makes some mean ice cream (it was pretty darn good, but has nothing on Salt and Straw). As promised, we returned to the mojito stand but were told it was $2 this night. Annoyed with how often prices change one day to the next, we walked away. A worker half-ran after us to tell us we could have them for $1.50, but the people in line before us were paying $2 so they didn't want them to hear. It was awkward.

                               Cerro de la Vigía (view from radio transmitter)

Birdseye view from Museo Histórico Municipal. The radio transmitter from our hike that morning is              almost visible, center of the picture on the hill.

            Home made dinner on the back patio

Today, Friday, we had to get out of the heat. We rented two bikes after having breakfast at our casa and headed towards the water. The ride was fairly easy, although cobblestone streets are as hard to ride on as they are to walk. Up and down a few minor hills, through the quaint town of La Boca and 8 km more along the coastline and we were on Playa Ancón, the best beach on the south coast of Cuba. We dove right in to cool off and then donned our snorkel gear. The snorkeling was great because it was different than previous. There were small yet colorful fish that were shy, hiding amongst the coral that covered the entire floor. The water was also extremely shallow, which was nerve wracking to have just an inch between our bellies and the sea urchins living in the coral. We had a piña colada from a man on the beach and then snorkeled one more time. Micah went out further than me and when he returned, he claimed he saw a jellyfish. I'm not convinced I believe him, but between that and the sting rays, I may not swim near him ever again. We hit a small, natural pool on the 18 km ride back, passed a few horse drawn carriages, huffed and puffed back up the hills and made it home. Opted to do another casa dinner tonight, which turned out to be a good choice; chicken, black rice, potatoes and veggies. We went back out after dinner to people watch during the sunset and stock up on water for a 2.5 hour bus ride tomorrow. We're now heading for the northern beaches of Playa Pilar, which we've heard may be the best beach in the Carribean. We are officially half done with our time in Cuba and actually, are over half done with our first big road trip away from Nicaragua, since we plan to return to our base camp in mid June. Time sure flies when you're having fun!

                                                            Playa Ancón

                                                    Brightest fishy we saw

                                             Not sure who has the right of way

Until next time...

Julia