Dunn-Dufault: February 2016

Day 8: Saturday
We wake and take an antique taxi to the Viazul bus station where we run into Peter and the uncomfortable notion that we can't be guaranteed a spot on the bus to Varadero. Hawkers abound so when we get a good price, we add Peter into the mix and give a tentative yes. but cash is required; we are running low. rob does the exchange while I spy a proper grocery store and investigate (turns out it's just more of the same, as in 8 shelves of tomato sauce instead of 2).
The taxi takes us directly to our casa but our room is not ready so we wander the main street and eat heaven-sent pizzas at Palador (private) Nona Tina. and yes, it is not lost on me that if we had followed thru on my on-the-cheap plans, we would still be at the bus station, worrying about seats.
Our room is beautiful, immaculately clean and well positioned, steps away from parque josone

Day 9, 10, 11
Sunday, Monday, Tuesday
In proper tourist mode now, our days run into each other. We walk the main street, shop at the artisan stalls, and visit the grocery store numerous times for water, beer, and pringles. We laze at the beach, read our books and stop for drinks until our money gives out.

We eat excellent and cheap italien meals at Casa Miel, and moderately priced meals at other Italien places: Dante's in the park where we have a charming waiter and dinner, and Castel Nuovo, where the helpings are so large, we should have shared. Intrigued by the menu's offering of a 'cold glass of milk', I make sure it is from a cow and not goat, but I neglect to inquire if it's powdered. oh well, I stop before I hit the sludge at the bottom.

i drank this entire bottle

One of the days, we ride the Beach tour bus up to the eastern tip of the peninsula, passing the character-less resorts along the way. at the very tip, the marina gaviota is closed off, with gated enclaves for the tourists' timeshares, and a merciless sun beating down on us.

We visit the park numerous times, hooping, strolling and exploring. There's a shortcut to Todo en Uno and the fried chicken there is amazing, leading us to wonder why cubans insist on making chicken according to western standards (and failing so miserably).

On our last night, we take a frenzied minicab home and have one last drink at the beatles bar where the band plays a lot more rock than roll.

Day 12 Wednesday
All good things must come to an end...

Day 5 Wednesday

Anticipated a poor showing for breakfast and got there early, but there were scrambled eggs and ketchup and the weird profiteroles shaped buns that toasted up nicely. plus there was an attempt at a chocolate croissant that was kinda good, if dry.

we board the bus and visit a cigar factory. no photos allowed, but very interesting to watch the workers, men and women, and their process. then on to a tasting of sweet and dry rums (yes, in the morning! yuck!) but we're game so down the hatch... the sweet didn't even taste like rum! meanwhile the rum factory is closed but i doubt it was ever open - the bottling devices on dislay for the guides to explain the process.

peter & me in front of the supposed factory

back on the bus to get to our cycling starting point. this is the hottest day so far and 4 of the tour members won't even attempt the ride. by the halfway point of our 18km, another 3 bail, leaving a core 6 - the British couple, us, Andrea, and Paul - but we make it to the afternoon activity: the caves were Che stationed himself in the 60's. the guide is a former history teacher and we chat about his expectations when the Americans get here. Here's a surprising fact: everyone in Cuba has a gun (!) but you don't see them.

The caves are huge and we see the actual bed where Che slept. A picnic lunch standing up because there are not enough chairs for everyone, the preferred beer (buchaneer) is here so everyone loads up for the night.

the park leading up to the caves is beautiful

and the caves themselves are spectacular - they let us wander wherever we wished

che's actual phone :)

It's back on our bikes for the remaining 13 km, past the gates of the Hacienda Cortina, ending up in front of our hotel, the San Diego. our rooms are not ready so we assemble by the pool. a perfect time to bring out my hoop. the kids get interested and have a go, as well as a few adults. lots of smiles all 'round.

there are welcome drinks again - cuba libres, so tonight everyone is alert and wanting to stay at the table. it's a nice dinner this time - outdoors, warmly lit, under a thatched roof that feels cozy and protective when the rain begins. Twice the power goes out and it is pitch black for a few seconds. Hey, my flashlight attached to my purse came in handy! we are served by waiters, and thanks to the vodka in my room and the dim light, i accidentally try a new veg thinking it was a potato - yam, or was it yucka whatever it was, it was pretty good.

Day 6 Thursday

It's our last day of cycling, and it is supposedly only 14 km, but those kms are HARD. A full 2km of continuous uphill to start, the pitch increases just a tad more and I can't make it. Even our group leader has to stop to rest and he's 30. Rob cycles the whole way but i have to walk the last bit of that unending hill. the ride gets easier with ups and downs, and i don't walk anymore of the hills but i see others walking them, and i hear complaining about no more GD hills. we ride into Las Terrazas, a constructed, purposeful community in the terraced hills of Sierra del Rosario. here, the buildings are well cared for, freshly painted, and spacious when compared to Habana. On our way to a coffee shop where rob buys beans, i see what i think is a man slaughtering a pig in the woods. When we exit the shop, i am proven correct when i see slabs of meat in a wagon and vultures at the spot of the butchering.

we cycle thru the village, stopping at an artist's studio to view his amalgamation of birds and tools. he married into this community. we find out that if your son or daughter leaves for university, then the whole family must go.

that's liz and me above

and rob's getting better at selfies

Peter, Warren, Shawna, Andrea, Charlie, Liz, Mardi, Doug, Mari, Paul, us, and whiner baby

let's not forget Raoul - our driver!

we finish our cycle thru town and load up the bikes for one last time. A group photo and then back to the bus for our afternoon destination - an Oasis where we have lunch and the best pina colada on the trip. we are sitting with raoul, our driver, and can inquire about his home life and the difficulties of being away from his wife and kids for a week at a time.
Rob ventures into ths stream, complete with waterfall, with a few others but i stay dry. Our hotel tonight is an individual cabin that backs on to the woods and i get a fright when a couple of horses gallop by within arms reach. dinner is buffet style, the musical entertainment has a shaking basket as a compulsory donation, and there is Jello, hooray.

lunch had a new, weird addition to the cuban palette:
hamburger bun shaped melba toast (?)
i noticed that raoul buttered the roundy, top part and not the flat inside part. hmm

i used rob's phone to grab a few snaps of him in the water

Day 7 Friday
Today we ride the bus back to Habana to see the city sights, proper. We stop at revolution square where the Castro relief is reminiscent of Osama Bin Laden. We attempt a tour of the rum museum but surprise, surprise, our tour leader did not book in advance and the tour is sold out for the rest of the day. Even our attempts to arrange a french tour are shot down. we tour Habana vieja and rest in a plaza with a beer and water where Warren and Shawn join us. turns out that they have been endlessly hounded by amateur cartoonists, with Warren's Castro bears as the hook.

Lunch is near a hole in the wall where it looks like the narrow room was made out of an alleyway. We've pooled our tips for Andre, and Doug offers a speech of sorts. then off to our new homestays where we are given a room that our most ornery tour-mate deems 'unacceptable' - a closet that contains a narrow, turning staircase that ascends into a fine enough room (save it being prepped for a single, and now we are a double) with a bathroom that wants to lock you in forever. Good thing we had another person on the other side of that door!
After a small drama over that ornery tour-mate's missing tourist card (ooo- she was prepping to blame the casa owner for sure), a group of us wander the streets without a guide. we attempt a drink at La Floridita, famous stomping grounds of Hemmingway, but the place is less than standing room only so we pick another spot with amazing live music, and settle in for drinks. soon enough, the remaining folks in our group locate us and it's one big party.
We leave with Warren and Shawna and run into what we think is a lovely medical student from Ghana but is just another con man. so disappointing. Dinner is at an italian restaurant where there is nothing vaguely italian on our menu, just the usual beef, pork, whatever - with the special surprise being lobster. i finally take matters into my own hands and ask for pasta. Pasta, please. and behold you CAN get Italian food if you are pushy enough.