Havana, a wing, Jesus and the Bay Of Pigs

I am finding my feet, slowly slowly but surely surely. The second day in Habana thankfully brought back a lightness, some breathing space and a realization that each passing day would bring new knowledge, another Spanish phrase and an acceptance that I am here for another 35 days before I have any company. When Eldorette arrives to join me for a months adventure I have decided to be wiser to the ways of Cuba, her nuances and her people, culture and beauty. I have decided this will make both our travels better for the 3 weeks that she has decided to join me. We will certainly have a good laugh, as we put one foot in front of the other in our adventure, this much I know. I have also decided that I am going to get some distance covered on my bicycle before then, so there is no pressure on us then to explore every inch of this massive island in a month, and if we find an amazing beach, we can just embrace it for a while instead of rushing off.

Havana is an amazing mix of the unbelievable. There are buildings, absolutely detailed and ornate, but only the facade and frames of doors left, no insides, broken and abandoned. Then there are some which have inhabitants but one would believe that there is a minimalistic, at best, interior. When I say there is abject squalor, I cannot stress enough, how much and how obvious it is. It's actually all I have seen and felt, but regardless of that there is little or no crime and people generally have a pleasant demeanor. From the little I have seen there is a lightness, an acceptance of what their dealt hand has become, for the time being. It seems almost as though they are grateful for what the communist government has bestowed upon them in one way and somewhat annoyed that it will be a long road to change the way it has become. I found this much more the case in the countryside than in the cities themselves, where communal workers' dwellings are not uncommon. In the farming and crop flatlands of the interior, kilometres and kilometres of crops are interspersed with school boarding house looking buildings, each about 2-3 kilos apart. The buildings are clearly for the workers of the co-op, but all look abandoned and dilapidated, but are still occupied, by those who have chosen to stay. Coupled with that, between each commune, is the motorized machinery depot, tractors, ploughs, harvesters and the like, for all the operations of the running of the farming economy. Pro Fidel slogans adorn corners of fields and billboards, along with Lenin's name, the true forefather of the communism, 'all-for-one' system. I am not sure if there is fear to change all this or if there is still a belief that this was truly the best way forward? I am still undecided and probably best not to ask in broken Spanish, in case I ask "which curry the pumpkins are hurrying too" instead. Ok, enough political wonderings....but the people of SA could learn a few things from these Cubans. I am also learning my way, where to eat, how to use the wifi and the other small systemic attributes of a new place. It was all a bit daunting, but I seem to have found a sense of peace and relief from not being able to see the wood-for-the-trees scenario of yesterday. Such is the way of life I guess. I find myself happier and without an empty yearning feeling deep down in my gut. Aside from the remarkable poverty, there is immense beauty and in its pomp, La Habana must have been a real treat. The old town is still littered with architectural marvels, typical of the old Caribbean. The churches and squares could easily be a set for some Zorro or Pirates Of The Caribbean movie, and the intact preserved ones are as wonderful as any I have seen before. Cobbled streets and turrets, statues and moats are all some of the marvels I have captured and witnessed, and along with The Capitolio, which is just out of place here, has been a menu of ocular delights. The old town is also full of little market stalls, chick bars and one awesome creperie , which I was privileged enough to sample this morning for breakfast, with Crema de Cacao, basically Nutella, the islands replacement, and a close comparison at that. The coffee came served with 3 options of sweetener too, brown sugar, white and honey, much to my glee, clearly these guys are up to date. There is often a whiff of cigars that constantly fill the air. I thought this would be mostly a tourist pleasure, given the economy, but I assure you, it's very local too. One comparison that I did draw to Africa was the airport, OMG, what organized chaos. Not enough trolleys, hardly any in fact, and as you came through immigration control, one had to have all of ones hand luggage from the plane, re-xrayed...can someone please just explain that to me. Luanda does the same and it just makes for queues and queues of people. I found this a senseless waste of time, unless I am missing something. The one thing I did read about arriving here was that the officials really do not like it if your arrival form was in disarray, with bits scratched out and re-done, etc. I made sure mine was in good order, although in pencil, so wasn't sure if I may receive a frowned look or not on handing it in. These have to be handed in as one exits the customs declaration passage, just before entering the arrivals hall. I'm not sure if the forms are used again, but wasn't about to take that chance and find myself in some Cuban jail, yet that could still occur. These women all wear very tight, very short khaki colored skirts and shirts. It's disconcerting in a number of ways, and it's way too sexy to be taken seriously, in a security kind of way, and I mean that with all due respect without being at all sexist or chauvinistic. It's really quite a bizarre outfit, and doesn't at all fit the bill around a security conscious, fairly oppressive kind of government, but it seems to fit right in with the way the people are, sexy and jovial. Penny is packed, racked and ready to roll tomorrow. I have now decided I am going to head out in an Easterly direction, hugging the Northern coast for at least 2/3 days, until around Matanzas or even further. I will then cross the island in one day towards the Bay Of Pigs, then to Cienfuegos and so on down towards Santiago de Cuba, but will wing it as per usual. It's good to actually now have a plan, which until 3 hours ago, was a thumb suck. It's very unlike me to be so disorganized and in some kind of weird way was also quite liberating, but eventually freaked me out enough to send me into logistical action. I hope I get safely out of city limits without any GPS aide, but I do have an amazing app on my phone called'Map Of Cuba Offline', funnily enough. This app has got a lot of stuff on it already and has the option to add places, find distances and also how best to route if in a car, on a bike or by foot. It also has a very wide array of useful places like accommodation, shops, restaurants, tourist activities and services. A most useful app indeed. Has been my go to for sure. Cut forward to Saturday 3rd November, where I left off on the previous paragraph was Wednesday 31st. Much has happened, some good, but mostly daunting and totally out of my comfort zone. I guess, beware what you wish for is an apt statement now. Anyway, it's not all doom and gloom, and aside from waking up today feeling somewhat down trodden and missing people, places, things I'm used to and the opportunity to speak some English, I am ok and still alive. My legs are a little bit tired, my arse a little raw (from cycling) 265km in 3 days, and I am a little frustrated. The feeling can only be described as the same frustrated feeling I had at the beginning of National Service, where everything seemed out of place, irrational and totally unnecessary. The empty feeling in ones stomach of being miles from anywhere usual or familiar. It takes a bit of inner strength to actually HTFU and knuckle down to get through it. I was a bit sad today and I guess if I didn't have those emotions I wouldn't be the person I am, and I think it's probably a normal process on these journeys. My solution, to my self pitying sorrow, was to touch base online before heading off to Playa Giron, 35km down the coast of the Bay Of Pigs. I needed to chat to my people and just to check in and get a sense that I am still on planet Earth. The wifi only lasts 1 hour, and it is surprising how quickly that hour goes, makes one wonder how much time we spend online when it isn't restricted to time and that we are so unaware of even doing it. Our lives have become so run by the thought of constantly being connected, so that has really given me perspective. The irony is that by doing and being like that, we are, in fact, disconnected in so many ways, and apart from the real sense of being alive and of awareness of ourselves. The day I left Havana I followed some random track I had downloaded from some or other website, generally taking me East on the North Coast of Cuba. I had no idea which places it would lead me to, but only that I had Playa Jibacoa as an end destination. Along with the track on GPS and my Cuba Offline Map I eventually got to my destination. It was a campismo, which should suggest that it's a campsite, but these are more like bungalows in a holiday park type set up, with a central entertainment area and a communal swimming pool. These are also really for locals and not tourists. I was told I couldn't camp there and needed to go back 2 Km's to where camping was permitted. It was actually far nicer and right on the beach and was told by the security guard, with the help of some French travelers, who interpreted our conversation, that the beach was free and I could camp anywhere I wanted, but there were no showers, as the key was with the owners, who would only be back the following day. Generally a good example of how Cuba works, or doesn't. Nobody has the same story or is actually sure what the real story is, but are good at giving you their version. One always differs from the next. No matter, I had a swim in the Caribbean, washed my clothes in a basin with no soap and after a sleeping tablet, tried to get a nights sleep, after an 85km day. I'm not great at sleeping at the best of times, so that in fact was at least some consistency for a change. The next day it was actually nice to wake up 50 metres from the breaking ocean waves and a beautiful sunrise. The Caribbean really is spectacular when it is required. The day would bring me to Matanzas, a nice off road ride, through some tiny, remote villages, where I met Jesus and his 2 disciples, actually his sons I think, but he did give me a bunch of bananas as a gift. He showed me where he lived, in a small room under an old chimney, ones used, but now deserted , as was the adjoining factory. The temperature got up to the high 30s, and at one rest stop I left my Garmin on my bike in the sun, and it read 46 degrees. It is also not easy to find water along the way. Most little side cafes don't stock water, but always have a cold beer handy. Prices vary from one place to the next and have had a pizza for $2.50 with 3 toppings, and then a fish fillet for $12, so it really is hit and miss. I had an amazing burger for 75 cents, out of a window of someone's house too. It was so tasty, and was called a burger, but looked like a hotdog with a squashed patty of mince meat inside. It's all good. I got the same run around from the security guard at the campismo outside Matanzas and as it was getting late and wasn't sure what the rest of the area had in store for me opted to stay at a hostel. I had to first head back towards where I had come from for 6kms, which irritates me. There are many hostels along the streets in all towns, and are actually called Casa Particulares. I had a great room en suit with a cute old couple called Nany and Lorenzo. Neither could speak English at all, but their son could, a bit, and he had just moved back from 23 years of living in Valencia in Spain, where I had been just 2 weeks previously. I also had to repair an outer gear casing on Penny and conversely the inner one too. Lorenzo helped me by holding the torch and was very enthusiastic and brought out all manner of tools from his shed to help me in my pursuit. What a sweet couple. I left there quite late the next day as wasn't sure how far I was going to ride before looking for a wild camping area. I also spent an hour on wifi on exiting the town, so by the time I got going it was already midday. About 30km into my ride at a small town called Coliseo I stopped for a break under some trees and glanced across at the block of apartments too my left. The place had washing hanging from the balconies, and it looked really dilapidated and in disrepair, and it really struck home then how fortunate my group of friends and my immediate circle are in life. We are so privileged to live how we do, to have been subjected to the lives we get to live, in comparison to what I was now staring at. 3 small kids came down and sat on the bench opposite me, probably thinking, "check out this loco gringo" with his old grey beard and heavy laden bici. They were jovial and laughing and playing marbles in the dirt, oblivious to the comparison I had been drawing in my mind, and equally oblivious to the fact that there was even an opposing privileged life to what they had been dealt. They were happy. Shoeless. No iPads and cell phones, but just kids being kids. That's how I remember being a kid, without all this other bullshit thrown in, that's for the adults to deal with. I liked that they were happy and when I left to be on my way, was glad to have seen them, and that environment, as it gave me more perspective as to how grateful we all need to be for the small blessings in life. Health, love, happiness and friendship. I decided then that I needed to get to the beach. It was 2.30 and I had to ride another 85 kms to Playa Larga. Those of you who know me know I can get determined, and that's exactly what happened. I was now racing the sun. I worked out that it should take me another 4 hours and with some stops, maybe 5,it would be tight. I hadn't eaten much and was fairly hungry so needed to stop occasionally and refuel with whatever I could find. One really stale roll with jamon (ham) y queso (and cheese), which I kept half of in case that was to be dinner. 30kms from the coast I found an open supermarket with water. I bought 2x500ml, 1x1500ml, a box of chocolate biscuits and 2 yogurts, and was on my way. I passed through Australia, did a double take, then realized there weren't any sheep that were fearful that I could see, so guessed I hadn't taken a wrong turn. The road to the coast was flat and surrounded by marsh on both sides, and the sun was easily winning the race. I was riding at 27-28km/h the entire way to the beach and still missed the sunset by 25 minutes. Thankfully my bike light and battery saved the day again. So far it's been the best tool I have had. It charges all my other chargers, my Garmin, my iPad, iPods, my phones, and is the only plug that fits these silly wall fittings. As I rolled into Playa Larga, I heard a voice out of the dark of the night say "habitacion", I couldn't say no. An air-conditioned room, a great double bed and a hot shower, how could I go and sleep on the beach with that on offer. A great decision I thought. It's all about accepting your fate and what unfolds in front of you. I try not to force things and attempt to have faith in the universe that the right thing will present itself, without over thinking it. It seldom fails, in one way or another. I slept badly for some reason. After 115km one would imagine that sleep would be forthcoming. No sir. I awoke feeling sad and alone, as I mentioned before, but put my best foot forward, got my stuff ready and decided before I left just to go onto wifi quickly and then head on towards Playa Giron, again as mentioned earlier. After the wifi session, I rode down the Main Street looking for a quick snack on the go and perhaps some provisions, so my beach stay would be a bit better. I happened to pass by a great little spot, with a shady terrace over looking the water, a place which I had missed earlier when I cycled past. I thought that strange that I had missed it, it's not like it's a city, more like a fishing village and the shady terrace definitely caught my eye. A young lady asked if I was looking for a place to stay and I said no and I was going to Giron but did she have food. Yes was the reply. I asked how much the accommodation was. It was a little too much but went in to have some food. It was very pleasant and decided to ask her if I stayed for 3 nights if she would give me a reduced rate. Yes was the answer, so here I am. I feel happy as can recharge a bit, have a few days rest, write some more of my book, which I have started, and write this enormous blog. It's a good feeling to have a bit of a base again and I think periodically it will help me manage this journey. I don't want to force things and just followed my instinct. It's a self preservation thing you see (quote-unquote). I hope you haven't fallen asleep with the length or monotony or both? I just write as it comes to me so I could end up waffling on a bit without realizing, if so, I apologize, but being alone for so long, stuff definitely infiltrates ones mind and brain, so I feel it only fair to share with my friends and family Everybody dies, not everybody lives, remain vigilant and go forth with adventure in your hearts and appreciation for what you have in your hearts. Peace, love and light and I miss you all.