From Viñales I caught a ride out of town and was dropped off at the hotel outside of town which overlooked over the Viñales Valley below. From there I started walking; I figured I would make it to the next turn off and see some of the countryside along the way. The devastation from Hurricane Ike could not be missed on my walk further out of town. I passed a crew that was repairing power lines and the houses I saw were still left in disaster. One house I saw looked artistically mangled and showing the power of the hurricanes that passed a couple of months ago. I took a photo from the road then decided to walk up to house which appeared to be abandoned. It wasn’t. An old man with a walking cane appeared from the doorway and greeted me. He was still living in his all but destroyed home. We talked for a while then he let me take some photos of him and his ravaged house, later he told me more about his life. The poor guy not only lost what had been his home, but also his wife a month earlier. He began to cry. I gave him a hug and left him with some money to help out. He asked for neither, but appreciated both.
Looking down at the Viñales Valley one more time
Electric crew repairing the lines from hurricane damage
House severly damaged by the recent hurricanes
Old man appearing from the doorway
Being greeted at the door, his new bedroom is directly behind him
Sitting with the old man, his old bedroom is in the background
Lumber in the living room
Small part of the house reroofed to serve as a bedroom
looking out the door way at the electric crew moving down the road
The next house down the road, also destroyed by the hurricanes
Lumber stacked, ready for new construction
Smaller houses built at the back to provide temporary shelter
Farmer walking down the road
My next ride was with a tractor pulling a trailer. I was a fun ride and of course I loved the 360 degree view. I saw plenty more old cars and political propaganda, a theme that would continue throughout my entire trip.
More signs about revolution, Reads: "Revolution is the sense of a historic moment, changing everything that should be changed" -Fidel
Another huge state funded billboard imploring the freedom of the "5 Cuban heroes". In reality it does more to spread ill will and fear of a distant threat to the Cuban people than productively work towards the freedom of their heroes. Reads: "5 jail cells to be opened, free the truth." The "10" stands for the years that have served so far in prison in the US.
My next ride was a long hull all the way back to Havana, three or four hours away. I was the first to hop on, but there would soon be plenty crammed into the metal box on the back of this truck.
Looking out the back of a metal box on wheels, this was my ride to Havana which would soon fill up.
More blatant political propaganda incorporating the leaders of the revolution, Fidel and Raul Castro. Reads: "Our (challenge) is to overcome!" The government often evokies a sense of constant threat and perpetual oppresion of its people which simutaneously shifts any blame from themselves and justifies what most would consider their own represive measures.
Yellow-shirt workers flaging down trucks to facilitate hitch-hiking
Passing truck packed with people
Guys asleeping in the truck, one wearing a US Army hat. Just a bit ironic.
Bicycle hanging off the back of the truck
In Havana I had some very friendly people help me to quickly navigate my way through the city to make to the other side to begin hitch-hiking again further to the east. My goal was to make it to Cien Fuegos for the night. After a bus ride through the city I made it to the highway heading east and found a ride in the back of a truck just before sunset. He was going all of the way to Cien Fuegos, another four hours down the road. It was a long day but I made it. On the outskirts of Cien Fuegos I got something to eat and cleaned up, then found a place to camp for the night. The next day I would find a proper place to stay.
Riding the bus through Havana
Ducking down in a brief rain shower
The next day I took a truck into town looking for a place to stay and finally put my bag down. I was approached immediately to stay in a guest house. As soon as I explained that I had my passport copy, real visa, and driver’s license, their excitement faded away. They would not risk being caught by immigration for allowing someone to stay in their home without a valid passport. This was a disconcerting revelation consider I was just starting my trip heading east. I decided not to worry to much about it and somehow knew that resolution come about. I dropped off my bag at the tourism office and walked around taking photos of the beautiful city and, of course, gorgeous old cars and blatant political propaganda. I was expecting someone with lax standards or an illegal guest house to approach me, instead resolution came about in a more interesting way. Out of the blue I was asked to present my documentation to a passing immigration officer. And, here we go!
A rare convience store. There isn't much to sell in Cuba so what they do sell is interesting. Most of the top shelf is Rum. In the same small store you can also buy brake pads. It's like walmart with a very limited selection with the exception of rum
Ubiquitous Che paintings
Downtown Cien Fuegos
Reads: "Your example lives, your ideas last"
Colonade along the central plaza, notice the "5 heroes" billboard in the distance. Reads: "They will return"
I was treated respectfully by the immigration officer and immediately taken in for questioning. I explained myself very well and presented what documentation I had. The immigration officer was a good man, but strict. I eventually won him over, and his stern composure lightened. Still it took me almost two hours sitting in his office being questioned about every detail of my trip, where I had been, where I was going, why I was there, how I knew Spanish, where I had traveled to, why I was traveling, where I was from, where I worked, and on and on. In the end he had a concise two page report of my life and trip in Cuba. I almost worked it out where I could leave his office with a letter from him saying that I was legal, but in the end I was made to sign a promise that I would return to Havana to pick up my passport. Before I was finally free there was one final hurdle. When the immigration officer finished with his questioning and report another man entered the room. The immigration officer explained my case and asked him if he had any more questions from me. The other man was from a different office, the Committee for the Defense of the Revolution. In general I had very little to hide but I made sure not to mention this blog. It was made very clear to me that I was only allowed to be there as a tourist. The photos and experiences I had were not to be published. Also it was here that I learned that tourists are under no circumstances allowed to stay with other Cubans that do not have an officially sanctioned guest house. My only legal choices for lodging were either in a hotel, state sanctioned guest house, or rouge camping. Period. If I did stay with a Cuban family, even for free, I had to apply for a family visa where they could track my whereabouts and business with the family – yet another example of the strictness and paranoia of the Cuban system. It hurt to know that the unique experience I shared with Mario in his ranch house was forbidden. This would be one of the many examples of limited freedoms I would see throughout my trip.
So I was a free man after convincing the authorities that I wouldn’t be a threat to the “revolution” and that I looked forward to smoking a cigar with Fidel one day. I was out of there to see a little bit more of the town then to turn around and make it to Havana for the night where I would retrieve my passport. The old part of the city was beautiful, right on the water. I walked down to the end of the road in Punta Gorda then took a horse buggy back to the center and made my way to the edge of town. I would have taken a bus but it was more of a pain then making it to the edge of town and flagging a ride. Besides that the only bus leaving that night passed along an indirect route that arrived in Havana late. I caught two rides and finally a private bus to make it to Havana. I took a taxi to Daisy’s guest house and I was finally home after another long day, reunited with my ever-important passport.
The immigration office. Wish I could have gotten a photo inside. ha.
Reads: "In a loud voice: Socialism"
Reads: "Our 5 heroes will return"
Reads: "I have you all" -Fidel
The next day was so great. I had a late start in the morning to make it all the way to Trinidad, my next destination further east from Cien Fuegos. Havana was buzzing and it was my first time passing through the heart of the city during the day. It was a gorgeous and alive. I had to tear myself away from taking in the sights. I was one my way to find a shared taxi out of town to begin hitch-hiking again past Cien Fuegos to Trinidad. It all went pretty smooth getting out of the city, and then it was a matter of finding a ride.
Sign indicating a guest house
Shared taxi to the freeway
At the freeway were the Yellow-shirts which coordinated rides with state owned vehicles, but the list for getting to Cien Fuegos and beyond was a long one. I opted for the second method of securing a ride along with others that more disposable income - I flashed cash. It wasn't an easy process, but finally a truck pulled over to pick me up and a couple other people up. It was a fun and windy ride. I made some friends and learned more about life in Cuba. I have a good filter for exaggeration and I tend to know when something is being blown out of proportion. That being said, I had talked to a number of people about there circumstances and truly believe that there are some serious hardships that are a daily part of life in Cuba. The embargo has something to do with that, but I am convinced that it is not the primary obstacle to alleviating poverty in Cuba. Governance has a large role to play and the following is an example of that.
A woman who was from Havana but lived and worked outside of the city would occasionally buy or grow vegetables from the country and take them to Havana to sell them for a profit. She makes around 50 cents a day at her regular job and supplements here income by selling the vegetables. It is completely illegal for her to do that. She and many other people do it anyway, but they have to do it in small quantities. There are frequent police checks that search vehicles for goods which are suspected for resale. One can only travel with the amount of goods that the authorities deem for personal use. Otherwise a heavy fine is placed upon the offender. Beyond the clearly limited freedoms of this policy, it also speaks to the incompatibility with the human condition. People will do what they have to do get by, and no system no mater how strict or draconian will stop that. Unbridled capitalism can be ugly, but it fits the human condition. People are corruptible and the ideals of Cuba’s rare breed of socialism have continually proved themselves to fail. The following is another story about that.
Fellow hitch-hikers flashing cash to drivers
After getting to the turn off for Cien Fuegos I was actually passed by the tourist bus which stopped for me on its own. I was shocked and grateful, but turned it down to stubbornly finish my way to Trinidad hitch-hiking, and more importantly to catch a ride which would allow me to take some photos of a couple of particularly scathing billboards towards the United States. Cien Fuegos is one of the historic strongholds of the “revolution” and they clearly identify themselves with pro-socialist, anti-US ideologies and rhetoric. In any case I would not be taking many photos of those billboards because I couldn’t get a ride past them while there was daylight, no matter how much money I was holding out. I had to laugh at myself for having passed on the bus that went directly to Trinidad, still three hours away, so that I could take some photographs. I was at a loss for why I wasn’t being picked up, and then finally a state-sponsored taxi stopped and picked me up for the hitch-hiking rate; and, he was going all the way to Trinidad! Life is funny that way. I was pleased.
My driver was a nice guy, at the same time an understandably corruptible, looking to get ahead in life. He was returning to Trinidad from dropping off some tourists at the beach. He worked for the state with takes as much of the profits as they can from tourism. Regarding tourism the socialist ideals of Solidarity and Equality are out the window. The Cuban government is fiendishly capitalistic in regards to tourism. Wherever there is a cut to be made they are there, charging whatever price the market will bear out. In any case, my taxi driving friend earned about 20 dollars a month and of the tips he hopefully received he was required to pay the government 15 dollars a month. Compared to Most Cubans I think he did alright through tips, but still it didn’t seem like much of a life considering a good beer cost at least a dollar. So he picked me up for whatever I had planed to hitch-hike with, and in the end I gave him extra on top of that and he ended up with 6 bucks in his pocket. The bus would have charged me $10. On our way to Trinidad he explained that I probably wasn’t picked up by other people because they didn’t want to hassle with the police which routinely check vehicles and ask for identification. It was somehow illegal for me to ride in a vehicle that wasn’t sanctioned by the state for tourism purposes. This was a little fuzzy to me, but there was obviously something to it. When we drove through the police checks he rolled up the tinted windows hoping they would let him by without stopping. If he was caught giving me a ride without paying the official state rate he would have been in trouble or I I would have had to pay the inflated price. The police didn’t stop us so we rolled through put the windows back down and cruised to Trinidad. I happily paid him more than a quarter of his monthly salary for getting me all the way to Trinidad for the night.
Reads: "The massive support of the revolution makes us question ourselves how much have we done to better the cause" -Raul Castro
Cuba License plate on chrome bumper
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