iLifeStyl
Cuba Day 4: Monday November 20, 2018
Crepes! Gigi made us crepes this morning for breakfast. Along with everything else we are coming to expect from the wooden cart she rolls into the alcove each morning. We are now spoiled and having a hard time contemplating a return to making our own breakfast. We had a little later breakfast than normal, because our driver Roberto would be collecting us at 11am for the two-hour drive west to Viñales to experience, what some people insist is, the most beautiful area of Cuba. The actual trip would take three hours. One of the things we have come to learn is that “Cuba Time” has a zone of its own.
Roberto did not speak much English, maybe five words, so we settled into his orange/red and cream colored three-on-the-tree ‘54 Oldsmobile 98 and headed towards the National Highway through Miramar chit-chatting in our embarrassing Spanglish.
Russ surveying the situation of what we will soon find ourselves in
After the revolution, the military became the new aristocracy, and Miramar is where the Castro regime made its home nestled into a 2-square kilometer fenced, heavily guarded, and lush compound. The new boss... same as the old boss. Lining the main road through the area are the palatial manicured estates of the embassies representing pretty much every country in the world that ignore America’s grudge against Castro. What everyday Cubans remember is an America that liberated them from the Spanish, and José Martí remains the most popular national hero to this day. What America remembers is that Castro broke up the party when everyone eventually got too drunk to realize they were too drunk. History has made it complicated. Raul Castro implemented some incremental changes to soften things when Obama was president, and very soon a new constitution will be presented which will include same-sex marriage. The Cubans are a generally happy people with a strong sense of community, but you can tell they are excited about Cuba’s potential future and understand the need for some more positive change, this being 2018. Obama is mentioned, and people sigh. trump is mentioned, and people sigh. Now the American Embassy sits empty along the Malecón, dull and dusty, an apt symbol. And that’s another reason we came here. To have the Cubans experience an America that cares, supports them, and is interested in them and their well being.
We swung onto the National Highway and very quickly the countryside surrounding Havana took over. No billboards. No rest stops. Other cars are sparse. Farms with plowshares being pulled by oxen. Donkey drawn carts in place of speeding BMWs. Surprisingly, hitchhiking is an art form in Cuba, and cows meander along and across the highway.
Eventually we turned towards the mountains of the northern coast and climb out of the valley. Roberto’s three-on-the-tree ‘54 Oldsmobile 98 sputtering up and around the narrow winding roads and rural Cuba, which didn’t look too much different than urban Cuba, just less dense. Clothes on lines drying in the sun. Dogs and cats. Decay. The same close sense of community. What was amazing though is, even in the country, the Cuban people are spotless. The bright colored clothes they wear stay bright. White sneakers, white pants, white shirts, like magic, they stay white. No matter what environment they are exposed too, it’s hard to find someone with soiled attire regardless what they are wearing.
caribbean breezes
Cresting the ridge, we descended to the next valley and Viñales. WOW! The area of Viñales is rich agriculturally, growing the best tobacco and coffee in Cuba, arguably the world, from the rust colored soil. It also has a unique geography that is reminiscent of coastal Thailand, except inland, and the town is a getaway for people seeking a laid-back village vibe. Roberto’s three-on-the-tree ‘54 Oldsmobile 98 navigates the village. We turn down a dirt road and are deposited at a gateway that will lead us to the generations-old family farm that is nestled within the national park. We are met by our host Ronaldo and his expat girlfriend from London, and we are led to our horses which will carry us through the amazing landscape we glimpsed on the way down from the ridge. My horse’s name is Mojito. He will definitely live up to his name. We were joined by Sam, photo editor for Wired magazine, her wife Jamie, and Jaimie’s mom Kathy. Along the way, the people we will meet seem like they’ve been lifelong friends we’ve met again after a long absence.
The horses are anxious to get on the trail, so off we go. More dogs. More cats. Cows. Chickens everywhere. No helmets. No waiver forms. And drop dead stunning scenery. The energy is magical. Our first stop is a little shack where the current patriarch of the family is a locally famous chef. The bathroom is a hole in the ground in a small wooden hut. Chicken from the farm, rice and beans, farm vegetables, and homemade sauces are on the menu. One of the interesting things about Cuba is that all the food is basically organic because no one can afford pesticides or any other poisonous chemicals prevalent to farming in America infiltrating the food supply. There is no mechanized equipment, too expensive, so everything is done by beast and burden. We are treated to a coffee lesson, a honey lesson, and a rum-made-from-guava lesson. More please. The coffee is unlike any I’ve tasted or smelled. Three bottles of beans get tucked into our backpack.
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After lunch, we hop back onto the horses and head to the tobacco fields. A very energetic Cuban matriarch orders a coconut cut, proceeds to pour rum and honey into the opening, sticks a straw in, and hands it to me. My new favorite drink. As the light starts to dim, we are treated to a coconut drinking lesson, more rum, a tobacco farming lesson, more rum, and then are led into the tobacco barn for a cigar smoking lesson. Tobacco farming in Cuba is still very much a modern day feudal system dance, but with asterisks and hidden footnotes at certain points. Honey on the tip is part of the cigar smoking process in Cuba, and Viñales is unequaled for the quality of its leaf. A bunch of cigars get tucked into our backpack. “Souvenirs.”
By now the sun has dipped behind the mountains, the almost-full moon is piercing a cloudless night, and bats are flitting about everywhere. When we hit the trail back to our starting point, the horses are calm, and we are surrounded by the magic of riding through the fields, brush, and trees with only the moon and stars to light our way.
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Roberto and his orange/red and cream colored three-on-the-tree ‘54 Oldsmobile 98 are waiting for the three-hour ride back to Havana. We say our goodbyes to the amazing group of people we had the pleasure of sharing a sublime experience with and climb in. The conversation on the ride home is filled with as many adjectives as we can muster to try to explain the adventure we just had. There is so much about Viñales. Our short trip there just left us aching for more. Roberto has shaved 30 minutes off the drive back to our flat in Vedado, and we all agree that a ‘54 Oldsmobile 98 isn’t the best choice for long distance road travel.
