vintage rides
playa esmerelda
dean learns how to make a grilo
sunkissed
kitty who dined with us
curious cat
farmland amidst the mountains
huts along the scenic road from Banes to Holguin City
viva revolucion, viva fidel?
in Banes
Banes local
check the extra seating on this bike
bar in Holguin City
hidden cafe in Holguin City
chillin in Holguin City
canton exists outside of china
cowbow country
fruit stands along the farm road to Holguin City
paseo libertado in Holguin City
contestents of the next reality show: so you think you can model
magic hour on the beach
band probably singing 'besame mucho' for the millionth time
deans and tony
outside the elementary school
at the ration store
dean inside the home of a local fisherman
banana plant
little boy in fishing village
deans and i at playa guadalavaca
So, the remainder of our trip was eye opening. If you haven't read the previous post, I suggest you do so to get updated. Anyhow, in Holguin City, we saw a snapshop of real Cuban life. It is anything but glamorous...people begging for money, empty ramshackle stores with locals smoking or just hanging out not doing very much, limited variety of goods to buy and actually the food we had wasn't very good at all. If you can get past all this, Holguin City is full of charm because of the hidden treasures, the lovely bars, converted colonial homes and lively street culture. But without some local help, the typical tourist would hardly know they existed b/c of the unmarked plain doors that hide them. Local street culture is interesting...fried pig skin chicharon on the street served in little paper cones, drinking is permitted everywhere along the covered promenade, corner bike bars and colourful characters on the streets.
After chilling at the patio chatting for awhile, we were hit with a torrential rain storm. It was so crazy that it started pouring onto the patio from the canopy in a steady heavy stream. It was exciting though b/c we managed to stay covered and dry for awhile. Soon the streets were overflowing like rivers and locals were stunned yet happy that the rain had finally come in such grand proportions. Everyone stayed under the covered promenade that bordered the main square and we just chilled with them eating hot peanuts some dude was selling. At some point, we decided to check out more spots and walk around. We didn't get far before we met some other locals who spoke English and seemed very curious and eager to help us. They were young and strangely cosmopolitan judging by their colourful clothes. They just wanted to party and hang out so they took us to a hidden little bar where they shared copious amounts of Havanna Club rum with me con cola. Going in was intimidating with mean lookin' cuban dudes standing at the door looking us up and down as if we're entering locals only territory. Once inside, it was this dusty dark bar with an open air courtyard strung with hanging vines of flowers. The rain poured down like a waterfall and added to the rawness of the place. Awesome. It was interesting meeting people and connecting based on such limited vocabulary, but the beauty of it was that we made it happen. Later on, our friends Sylvie and Patrice joined us and our new local friends took us to yet another stunning little spot hidden down a small desolate street. Dodging bikes and rain spillage everywhere, we finally make it to the spot and they pound demandingly on the heavy door for them to let us in. The woman inside opens it and looks at me confused but we had 'ins' with these people so they let us in. It was spectaclar. Imagine and old colonial home with beautiful tiling, an open courtyard below a columned terrace full of plants. A sculpture of one of the daughters of the rich man that once owned the place is perched overseeing the garden. Story goes that of the 3 daughters, she was favoured and the other 2 were madly jealous that she was the only one who they made a sculpture for. The rooms had high columned ceilings, wrought iron gates and beautiful murals of vines were painted on the walls. This place was a fully functioning restaurant and cafe and a crazy disco at night. We had every intention of returning that evening for salsa dancing but the rum did me in. Once we got there, I started my progressive decline and at first I felt like I couldn't keep my eyes open and then suddenly, I'm saying my prayers to the porcelain god in the bathroom. I made about 4 trips back and forth while everyone else is chillin' in the lounge. Eventually one of the waitresses came to check on me and asked, "Cafe con leche?" concerned that I had become sick from their milk. I waved her my answer as I continued to blow the shit out of my nose. Yuck! Or, it could have been the terrible shrimp pizza I had on the patio but the likely culprit was the rum...i finally understand why this alcohol receives such fearful reactions at the mere mention of it's name. Strangely, I managed to maintain my composure and once I was through, I was fully conscious and alert again. We decided to head back to Playa Esmerelda shortly and said goodbye to our friends. Dean bit it on the wet street and Patrice had a collision with a cyclist...all a result of the unstoppable rainstorm...but we managed to get back to our car (which was still there!) in one piece. Getting out of the city proved difficult with a bunch of soaking wet tourists in a car who don't speak much spanish and especially when every street looked the same. In our confusion, we happened upon some more interesting looking neighbourhoods and residential areas with flooded roads before finding our way back to the short road home that we took the previous day on the scooter.
Back at the resort, it seemed like a different world. The shock of this was enough to cause dissonance in anyone...I felt like I was in the film "The World" (a must see) centering on the fragile lives of characters who work and live in a fancy theme park in China. The theme park is a 'trip' (in more than one respect) around the world in a day because of it's miniature versions of world monuments found at the different 'continents' accessible by monorail. Hired workers (mostly Chinese nationals, but some Russians, etc) work as dancers and performed in nightly shows with fantastic glittering costumes. The lives of the staff and those of the people who went to this place are tangled together unknowingly in a lack of authenticity. In fact, the movie starkly highlights how much of a farce it is when these institutions exist to create an illusion. In reality the people who portray this illusion live in dilapidated and desperate conditions and really know nothing of the life they work so hard to provide. In returning to the resort after our trip, I felt conflicted that I enjoyed the comfort I had, yet hated what I was willingly partaking in. Not easily understood or solved, but I guess the underlying point is we can't let our comforts blind us from the responsibility that comes with our priviledge.
The rest of our days we spent chillin' without any major excursions except some horseback riding in the surrounding hills where we explored a bat cave. Dean had fun swiggin' a whole mickey of rum with our cowboy guide. He got on well with him with no more than 10 words in his range of spanish vocabulary. We rode back through a local village, treated our guy to some dry goods from a local store and then spent our afternoons swimming, snorking and lazing on the beach.
The last couple of days, we made sure we found all the locals we made friends with at the resort and handed out the many hygiene products that we bought in Canada intended for humanitarian purposes. Everyone was so grateful since many of the things we take for granted such as soap, toothpaste, toothbrushes, etc. are very difficult to afford after food and other necessities. On our last day, our friend Yuri who worked at the resort and who kindly brought me limes from home to make tea with (because I had gotten sick with a cough) came to see us off at the airport. He had biked from the city to meet us and brought with him a bottle full of honey that he got just for me. On it he put a self-made label that read "Pure Bee Honey" above the caption "Sweet Friendship". I was instantly humbled and gracious with this utterly cute gesture. He also brought Dean a gigantic seashell as a token of his friendship and appreciation. It's amazing that despite having so little, he made a conscious effort to make a symbolic exchange of friendship and comraderie.
Now back in Canada, my cough is fading with the antibiotics, much like my tan. Our sweet memories of Cuba continue and as always, we are forever changed and grateful for it.
