Closed for Funeral

It's Friday, the day before we are scheduled to leave Cienfegous, Cuba. The morning was dedicated to surrendering our Cuban motorcycle license and provisional license plate.

 

 

One side of my temporary Cuban drivers license 

 
The six Stahlratte passengers with motorcycles arrived at Transito to complete the process, only to find that the whole facility was closed for a funeral. We are told the office will reopen Monday morning.

The guard at Transito said he would make some phone calls when he went off duty at 9:30 AM. Werner and I returned to the marina to inform Captain Ludwig of the situation and hope he could get aduana (custom) official to work on a solution from their end.

A three day delay will wreck my plans for meeting my wife in Mexico City. As it is I have to ride more than 1000 miles in two days to meet Ingrid when she arrived in Mexico. If we do not leave Cuba until Monday, then Ingrid will visit Mexico City without me.

Needing to change the motorcycle oil, I rode 10 minutes back to my casa, near the marina. As I was starting the oil change word came to me that Transito had opened for us. Too late to stop, so I continued and joined the group 20 minutes later. The timing was perfect for me, as they had just finished all of the other bikes and processed mine. Everyone's bike was ready, except Werner's. It failed to start this morning and he went to Transito with his license plate and papers, hoping they would process his motorcycle without seeing it. No chance. Werner didn't want to tow the bike and he didn't have enough money (or time!) to have a truck transport the bike. Of course, Transito refused to go to the marina and inspect his bike. He was sick the day before and not feeling well, so he sat and sat in the Tranito office waiting for them to provide a solution. Word got to him from the Captain that the boat would leave the next day, with him or without him. Werner finally agreed to let his wife Claudia tow his motorcycle. Fortunately Transito remained open until he arrived...

Rain, Birds and Sore Ribs

Ten minutes to reach Trinidad and the rain was starting to saturate my riding gear. There was no compelling reason to press on and an approaching bus shelter was calling my name. With a poucho draped over my semi waterproof duffel bag, I joined locals under the bus shelter. There was a motorcycle and another motorcycle with a side car taking refuse in the shelter. There was a cake stored in the eves of the bus shelter, for safekeeping during the down pour.

Having gotten short sleep the night before I wasn't in the mood to answer the typical questions that came from my rainy day companions, but I managed a few simple answers. As the rain let up I was asked where I was going, then I was asked where I was staying. I replied that I would find a place when I got to Trinidad, and that I was looking for a  room sporting a low rate. A guy was called over to the shelter and he gave me a gave me a business card with the typical contact information and a picture of the building. The guy assured me the rate 15 CUC and that there was parking. I said I would look at it. Soon I was back on the road to Trinidad.

My standard operating procedure when reaching a town is to drive through it, get the far side of town the double back and select a place that looks good and is in a good location. The picture on the business card made finding the casa particular easy. It was just outside of the center of town and being tired I wasn't in the mood to be in the center of town with the usual activities.

A teenager girl answered the door and confirmed the rate. Yes, breakfast is included, air conditioning and a hot water shower. I slept on a few really bad beds in Columbia and Peru, and started testing the bed to make sure it is not horrible. Everything about the room was satisfactory; I am home for the night.

The girl took my passport to fill out the registration book, promising to return in15 minutes. About that amount of time lapsed and there was a knock on the door. Expecting to find a teenager I was surprised to greet the same man, Jose, that I met at the bus shelter. It turned out that he owned the casa particular. All I could do was laugh in surprise.

Jose had come to see if I needed dinner. He listed beef, fish and.I had my fill of langoustine over the past few weeks. Knowing the price would be low, I declined, opting to get two small grilled ham sandwiches, glasses of limon refresco and cream de leche ice cream
in the center of town. It was the perfect light snack and the price for food in the small window counter joint is priced with Cuban National Peso. Altogether the food was less that one dollar. A larger sit down meal offered at the casa would be priced on CUC currency and the cost would run between 8 and 12 CUC. The "street food" selection is limited, but the prices can't be beat.

The next morning a typical Cuban breakfast of juice, fruit, cheese, bread, eggs and coffee was served to me on the second floor terrace.

While eating breakfast, I noticed a pidgin coop on the roof across the street. I believe I saw a flight of homing pidgins flying over Trinidad moments later. Birds are popular pets in Cuba. Many times I have seen people walk down the street with bird cages. I guess they like to take their birds with them when visiting friends. This was the first time I came to realize Cubans keep pidgins as well as song birds.

After breakfast I headed into the center of Trinidad and soon bumped into Claudia and Werner, fellow passengers from the Stalhratte. After catching up with them, they left for the mountain road to Cienfegous and I went to get a photo of Trinidad's historic cathedral.

I got the shot of the cathedral and stepped off a ledge on the perimeter of the plaza than I was not expecting to step off. Spinning around as I fell, I protected the digital camera, and slammed by ribs into the edge of ledge. This was my first time I really hurt my ribs. Did I crack them? I will never know because all a doctor can do is up tape on the chest and perhaps prescribe pain killers. I am writing this post 14 days later and without a sympathy gathering bruise, the pain is starting to subside.

 

Leaving Trinidad

Night Swimming

The day with spent with my adopted Cuban family. Most of the day we sat on the porch in the shade to escape the heat. Cubans are incredibly self-reliant and resourceful. Things like beer can get thrown in the trash, which I later learned are recovered by people that sort the trash somewhere down the line. Any piece of milled lumber is reused somewhere, somehow. Plastic bags are washed, dried and reused. Before seeing plastic bags being recycled in Cuba, I thought the Pennsylvania Dutch (the Amish) were the only people to clean and reuse plastic bags.

The family had a small room off the kitchen that housed a medium sized pig. The pig eat all the food scraps generated by the extended family. I called the pig "Mr. Tocino" or Mr. Bacon.

I ventured out a few times to get a haircut. Ultimately discovering the barber only kept morning hours. My other quest was to find oil for the motorcycle. It is recommended that that oil and filter be changed every 6000 miles, and it was time. There are many signs advertising Castrol oil, but the shelves were bare of this brand. Cuban "Multi Oil" was the only product available. Checking my luggage at the casa particular returned no oil filter. When leaving the Stahratte in Santiago de Cuba I didn't think I would put so many miles on the bike while in Cuba, so I left them on bolard the boat. An oil change would wait until I got to Cienfuegos when I could retrieve a filter from item left in my bunk. Back at the house Hymen worked on his bicycle, replacing the ball barrings in his back wheel.

Alexander went out at one point and bought beer for everyone. I had been picking up the beer tab at an alarming frequency, so it was nice that someone else sprung for the brews. As a tourist it is expected you pay for everything from taxis to rounds of drinks. There is a disappointing part to funding the various events. Rarely does anyone say "thank you." It is not clear to me if that lack of acknowledgment for the tourist's largess is a characteristic of Latin culture, uncultivated manners in the economically challenged or embarrassment at receiving gift giving from someone who is much more fortunate. Perhaps the sentiments s based on a simple expectation that the person with more shares automatically and the act of giving has no special merit. Perhaps I'll meet a sociologist one day and learn how the social rules and morays are structured.

In the evening we went swimming in an Olympic sized pool down the street. With beer, a bottle of rum, a package of cookies, two dogs and the ubiquitous Cuban cigarettes. I was concerned there would be a charge to enter the swimming pool. Tourist always pay and I left the house without a peso in my pocket. The situation was quickly revealed when we reached the closed pool. The large metal gate was not locked and there was no night guard. This is Cuba. The pool is owned by the people and that night some of the people were going swimming.

Oddly the pool was up a flight of stairs. We climbed one flight of stairs and a huge pool was revealed, replete with swimming lanes. There were no lights, so we swam under the stars. Or in Spanish the estrellas, which sounds very close to the name of the country Australia. Sorry, no lights, no photos...

Soon the boys were in the watered followed by the dogs. Of the two dogs, Lassie turned out to be natural water dog. She jumped into the water quickly and paddled around happily. Even though her legs were too short to climb out of the pool un assisted, she jumped in again and again. I guess she had a lot of faith in her owners; that hey would not let her drown, Her daughter, Mutty, was a reluctant swimmer, only jumping in once or twice the whole night.

Mutty, the non-water dog...   As with swimming everywhere the ladies were the last to take the plunge. The rum bottle was passed from hombre to hombre and the girls stuck to beer. Sneaking into an Olympic size pool at night, with dogs, beer and rum. Only in Cuba. Returning to the house for warm food, we finished the night with rounds of dominos.

Dias de la Madre

May 12th is Mother's Day in Cuba. I met a Cuban family and was invited to celebrate Mothers Day. Cubans go to visit their mother late in the evening the day before and wait for the clock to reach midnight to be with their mother from the first moment. It is like waiting for the clock to strike 12:00 midnight on New Years Eve. Except everyone kisses their mother and there was no champagne. Beer was the drink of the night.

That night, on the walk back to my casa particular, the power for the city when out. The lights went dark and suddenly the stars lit the sky. It was a short walk to the rented room and the owner was waiting with a candle to illuminate my room. Not long after the power was restored...and the air conditioning came on.

On Mother's Day people line up at the bakery to buy a cake. You can see people carrying cakes down the street everywhere.

Even a neighbor stopped by with a piece of cake and best wishes for the matriarch of the family. The whole family stops by to wish "felices días" (happy days) to their mother.

Grandmother Resina rocks her grandson to sleep on Mother's Day.

It would have been possible, but difficult to get the motorcycle up a large curb and turn into a secure porch at the casa. So I stored my motorcycle in the family's backyard. When I return to their house on Mother's Day I discovered that Rafael had washed the bike. There was a serious layer of crud around the chain and on the wheels. I was knocked out by his care for my motorcycle.

In the evening someone nearby launched a small display of fireworks. We finished the night watching HBO and playing dominos.

Westward in Cuba

The state of Pinar del Rio is tobacco country. I left Havana and headed west for the city of Pinar del Rio, but left immediately for Viales and a reach for the beach. A few hours later I could only find a marina with a very expensive hotel. Back tracking to Viales was my only choice, where casa particulars are plentiful.

The casa owner provided directions to the beach. If course the directions were different than the route taken the day before. Minutes from Viales there is a mural painted on the side of a mountain. The painting is attributed to Diego Rivera. Later I heard the work was made by one of his students. With few exceptions there are charges to enter any attraction in Cuba. In this case the fee is 3 CUC. Those that pay the fee can access the interpretive center. Experience told me that presentations in these centers are almost always in Spanish. Sometimes there are abbreviated descriptions in English, but rarely. The full mural can be seen from outside, so I declined paying the fee and took a photo from road, then headed to the beach.

The beach is a short ride, about 40 minutes. After paying a 5 CUC fee to enter the playa, the road crosses a causeway to the beach. It is a touristic playa, with a restaurant, bar, beach chairs and small shaded "cabanas." Snorkeling equipment and sea kayaks are available to rent. A bathroom, changing room and shower completes the services. The water was amazing, clear and warm.

Over the course of the day buses arrived with tourists and locals. I talked to a three French people vacationing in Cuba. They are students in Mexico and took a break from their studies They said coming to Cuba was very an economical place to vacation.

A troop of locals showed up and took over the beach.The beach goers provided wonderful entertainment for the length of the day.

Back in Viales for that night, some of the ladies appeared at a bars, as dancers performing between the sets provided by a band.

Cigars and American Taxis Cars

The next few days were spent exploring Havana. Navigating the streets of Cuba’s capital has its challenges. The map given to me by a car rental agency lack a high level of detail and many of the streets don’t have signage. On the upside, Cuban drivers are good and many of the major intersections have signs. It is possible to get around the city, but equally easy to get lost. I found the major attractions and historical sites without a problem.

Cuba is well known for cigars. It is hard to walk down any street in a tourist area without getting several offers to buy cigars. Every offer has a story attached about how the person knows someone in a cigar factory and how their price is very good. Some of them may in fact have the real thing, but I wouldn’t bother trying to save a few dollars only to get fakes. For the present, I’ll buy individual boxes of Kohiba “Mini”, cigarette size cigars. The locals buy individual cigars and sampling them is definitely on the list.

 

Towards the end of my stay in Cuba, depending on how much cash is left, I will start buying small boxes of cigars and roll the dice with US Customs. Expenses are always a tough thing to manage as I hop from country to country, so I usually wait until I am almost ready to leave a country before I start buying souvenirs. Given the complex Cuban currencies and the inability to access my bank U.S. accounts, managing money takes on new dimensions in vigilance.

The other offer that is omnipresent when walking in the tourist areas of Havana comes from taxi drivers. There are three types: regular taxis, bicycle taxis and “American Car taxis.” The last is a specialty driven by the U.S. government’s trade embargo of Cuba. There is a huge fleet of vintage cars in various states of repair. Many are in remarkable shape given the challenges the owners have getting parts and supplies to maintain their vehicles. Many spew black smoke from their exhaust. I assume the piston rings on their engines are worn out and repair is out of reach. I heard the pitch dozens of times. “You want a American Car taxi my friend?”

Bella arte

Havana has many exciting places to enjoy and interesting historic sites to visit. There are monu
ments, government buildings, museums and of course lots of music. The Musuo Nacional de Belle Artes is an unexpected surprise. If you like modern art, I highly recommend this museum.

The collocation is dedicated solely to modern art by Cuban artists. The art is chock full of symbolic themes: sex, family, death, political, to name a few. The first gallery presents works that could have been made by Picasso or cubist artist. There is a sizable collection of sculpture and mixed media arts. Little to no photography. Most of photography is found as elements in larger works.

Photography is prohibited in the museum. I could not resist and sneaked this photo. There were so many pieves of art work that I wanted to photograph, but didn't want to get kicked out  of the museum...

These sculptures are installed in front of the museum.

I love this group of sculptures, a celebration of various screw driver bits -- in brick! How cool is that.

Captain Ludwig on Land and the Money Exchange Game

Captain Ludwig had anchored in Cienfuegos a few days earlier and drove to Havana where his wife Elisa and baby daughter had flown in from Cartagena. We met at at the famous Coppelia for ice cream. 

(Wikipedia photo)

Cuban nationals pay 15 National Pesos (~$.75) for a large serving of ice cream and tourist sit in a separate area where they paid considerably more, about $3.00 USD.

In Cartagena I offered to take photos of Ludwig’s family, but there wasn’t enough time. My Nikon battery charger had gone missing in Jamaica leaving only the iPhone to take pictures. Fortunately Ludwig had a camera, so I took a series of pictures of the baby and the proud parents. When I saw Ludwig a few weeks later in Centrifuges I asked him to send me a copy of the favorite photo that I took. It would never happen. In Havana he lost a backpack in a taxi that mostly contained clothes, but also had the digital camera.

[Update: I just heard from Captain Ludwig and learned that his wife, Elisa, had download the photos to her laptop before that camera was lost in a taxi! Below find the photo they shared with me.]

In need of CUCs, the “convertible currency” I headed to Western Union, a short walk from the ice cream plaza. Of the money I needed to exchange, a 100 Euro bill had a half an inch tear. Western Union would not exchange the torn bill, so I was forced to seek out an international bank, Bano Financial International (BFI.) It was too late in the day to find an open BFI bank. The next day I would find one near my casa particular. The bank exchanged the torn bill, but charged a 1 CUC "commission", roughly $1.00 USD. Later in the trip another branch would charge one half a CUC per bill to exchange two $20.00 USD bills with small tears and to my surprise, they agreed to exchange a $20.00 USD bill that looked like a mouse had chewed a hole in the middle.

It is impossible to withdraw money from a US bank account using a Cuban ATM or get a cash  advance from a US based credit card. US citizens have to take stack of cash with them into Cuba. It is best to take Euros into the country, because the Cuban banks take off an additional 10% to exchange USD. Ouch. If you have an account for a Canadian, European, or any bank outside of the USA, then getting cash from an ATM is not a problem...

Our Man in Havana

May 1st is International Worker’s Day, a huge day on the socialist calendar. My Swedish friends from the Stahlratte, Aba and Eric, were planning to be in Havana to hear President Raul Castro speak. I made plans to meet them, the day before or at a specific spot in the Plaza de la Revolution.
I arrived in Havana the night before the big event and stopped at a hotel were they were to leave their address. No luck after multiple times visiting the hotel. Either I got the hotel wrong or they didn’t make it to Havana as planned. Plan B, look for them during the rally under the “statue of Che”, but again no luck. In fact the portrait of Che attached to the side of a building was blocked off, so no one could actually wait there.
President Raul Castro would be speaking very early, perhaps at 7:00 AM. I left my hotel at 6:15 AM and followed the crowd to the plaza. Unfortunately the mass of people that I was with was held on a side street until it was time for that group to parade in front of the monument, so I missed Raul’s speech.  I wouldn’t have understood it anyway. The idea was to simply be in the crowd and feel the energy. After waiting for 30 minutes I walked out of the crowded street that I squeezed through earlier and went two blocks further west to get into the main thoroughfare that was moving. Of course when I got to the street that was held by guards, it was released and moving along the parade route…
All the big names of Cuban socialism were championed: Che, Fidel, Raul, even Hugo Chaves. 


The crowd became increasingly more excited at we neared the monument to Marti and President Raul Castro’s position.

  

 

 Raul is that tiny speck directly under Marti’s head. I waived to Raul and I am pretty sure me waived back to me.  =)

The parade ended with military and civic groups carrying large flags and fields flags.

Santa Clara

Rode fairly quickly from Camuaguy to Santa Clara to get to the Mausoleum de Che Guevara before it closed. Of course I didn't think about what day it was...Monday. The monument was open, but the mausoleum and museum, closed. The guard said to return tomorrow at 9:30 AM. There is only one other thing that I know to do here, see the replica of the armored train that Che stopped during the battle of the revolution.

A guy on a bicycle took me to one casa that was supposed to have a good price, I followed him into the center as it started raining.My rear tire is not gripping the road well in the rain, so I was grateful to be following a bicycle. When we arrived at the first casa only to learn it was full. The next place was asking more than I wanted to pay and breakfast was extra. Now waiting for the afternoon rain and lighting to stop before going to see the train, them continue to look for lodging.

My jockey waited semi patiently for the rain to stop, so he could take me to another casa particular. In Cuba international tourists can find lodging in private home that have been authorized by the government. These casas have a sign with a blue anchor. Casa particulars that have a red anchor are for Cubans only. The typical price is 25 CUC, which is very close to $25 USD. The price is negotiable, depending on the time or day and size of the city. Breakfast and dinner may or may not be included. Overnight parking may be free or at 1 CUC ($1 USD) at a garage down the street. Internet access is always extra.

Three times I paid 15 CUC, in smaller towns. Twice the rate was lowered by asking and the third was a "promotion" rate.

When the rain stopped In Santa Clara my jockey led me to a casa that charged 15 CUC, with no breakfast and parking included. That evening I found dinner away from the center of town for 25 National Pesos or $1 USD. Breakfast consisted of fruit bought the night before; several small bananas and a large mango.

Riding around after dinner...

First stop, a monument to Che located on a hill overlooking town. A guy selling "real" Cohebas, said Che planned the attack on Bastatia's military train from this place. The bridge east of Santa Clara was already destroyed and the train was retreating when Che's forces tore up the tracks with a bulldozer.

Between historic sites I stopped for breakfast and coffee. Small egg sandwiches are about 30 cents and shot of expresso are 4 cents when you buy it from a "particular" business. A guy was selling cafe out of this living room for1 National Peso. The exchange rate is 24 National Pesos to the a United States Dollar. If you buy coffee in a tourist restaurant the price is a lot higher.

 Loaded up on caffeine went to see the train wreak memorial.

I bought a crazy second hand shirt for $1.50 USD in a second hand clothes store and rode to see Che's mausoleum. No photography is allowed in the crypt where many of the heroes of the revolution are laid to rest. Each has a likeness carved in the end stone. For some reason Che's portrait was not lite. I assume the likeness is not illuminated to discourage clandestine photographers.

Across the hall from the mausoleum is a small museum dedicated to Che. Again, photography is not allowed there either. A lady was stopped by an attendant for taking pictures with a flash, then I saw her five minutes later taking photos without a flash. I figured it was Ok to take pictures without a flash and took two pictures...before I was told photography was not allowed.Here a photograph of one of Che's pistols.

Having my gotten a huge infusion of Che, I hit the road for Havana...

Santiago de Cuba - Arrival

The Stahlratte entered the port of Santiago de Cuba sometime after sunrise. We motored past the fort that protected the harbor in colonial times and dropped anchor near the marina. The captain went ashore while the rest of the boat had breakfast. Afterwards we tied up to the dock, but could not leave until immigrations and customs officials arrived. Motorcyclists and backpackers prepared their luggage while waiting.

Customs arrived to inspect the boat and brought dogs to check for drugs. They made a thorough search. The officials went through each pocket and item of some of the passengers luggage. One passenger ignored the captain's warming and tried to smuggle five marijuana seeds through Cuba. There was no intention to leave the seeds in Cuba, they were intended for use at home...but the seeds were found and a fine of $200 USD was applied. A single seed was found in another passenger's luggage customs let that person go without a fine. Even the trash from the boat was checked by the dogs.

We started the importation of the motorcycles at marina, in the Customs offices. More paperwork would be required in town at the larger customs offices, and a trip to Transito...

 The ship clears quarantine and we are allowed to off load the motorcycles.

In short order every bike was on the dock and luggage loaded. Next stop Customs in town to finalize the importation. Not so fast. We found the Customs office in town, but were told to return in the morning for reasons I never learned nor did I really care. Finding a money exchange office was top on my lists. While I looking for the money exchange office a few blocks down the street, the rest of the riders rode on...and I was on my own, not for the first time. I rather prefer traveling alone anyway and need to find the international clinic and medical attention for my little finger. Getting the infection treated was a higher priority for me than finding lodging. After visiting a doctor and securing a room for myself and motorcycle, I ran into some of the backpackers and riders later that night. A few riders returned to the familiarity  of the Stalhratte for the night, while others found a casa particular in town.

The next morning we were back at the customs to complete our temporary motorcycle importation. We attracted quite a crowd of curious Cubans while we waited for the paperwork to be completed.

 

Once we had our temporary importation sticker paid for and stuck to our windshields, we headed to Transito for our licenses plates and license cards.

The licensing process would end up taking three trips to the Transito office, a trip to the international bank for a special stamp and hours for the Transito workers to figure out how to input motorcycle data from no less than three foreign countries into a system that they rarely used if ever. 24 hours later we had completed all the steps and could ride as we chose throughout Cuba.