Bernie's Travels: From Baracoa back to Havana

Returning all the way back to Havana from Baracoa was a royal pain. I was satisfied with taking the overpriced tourist buses all the way back to Havana but it wasn’t that simple. There was only one bus from Baracoa and it left at 2:30 in the afternoon. I wanted to leave in the morning from Baracoa to make it to Santiago to catch the afternoon bus to Havana, 16 hours away. I made it to the edge of Baracoa early but there were no trucks passing. I waited more than two hours then when I was picked up I was charged 10 times the normal price. I had no choice other than refusing the ride. The truck attendant knew I was in a tough spot since the bus charged four times more still. I made it on but continued to ride him the whole way, thanking him for welcome to his socialist country theoretically based on solidarity and equality. We had more than four hours to banter back and forth, it was fun.

In Guantanamo I grabbed a bicycle taxi that drove me to the bus terminal which I thought was near the edge of town. It wasn't there and I couldn’t buy a ticket for the regular Cuban buses. My only choice was another ride across the city or take shared taxi to Santiago. Of course it was also illegal for shared taxis to carry tourists so they charged me 5 times the regular rate to make it worth their while. If I left right then there was a chance I would catch the 3:30 bus to Havana. I paid up and we were off. 20 minutes into our trip a stone was shot into the windshield and it shattered without breaking out. We turned around to get another taxi and on the way back the windshield broke through. Back at the station we got another taxi and we were off again. Along the way were stopped at a police check point and they made sure to write down all of my information in some book. I don’t think the driver was fined for illegally carrying a tourist, but he didn’t bother to refund the extra charge of course. In Santiago we were stopped by another police checkpoint but it was right by the bus station so I just grabbed my bag and got out.

At the station I found three Russian guys trying to muster enough Spanish together to also buy bus tickets back to Havana. I helped them with a somewhat helpful English translation, then we finally resorted to pictures and hand gestures. Mi ruso na so goo. I had to communicate something to them that was surprising to me - the only bus in the next three days that could take tourists that also had space available was the bus leaving the next morning at 9:00am. That was a disconcerting shock for me, but I hung on and let them file out of the office before asking about a seat on the 6:00 bus leaving in a couple of hours. They said I should be able to find a space for me. Yes!

In the mean time I had a chance to get something to eat and see the very cool Revolution Plaza. What else would it be called. I had fun photographing the plaza then passed one bad food stand after another to finally settle on two pizzas from the good old Rapido. Back at the station I was approached by a man who hurriedly approached me to load me onto a bus. I had never seen him and I wasn’t quite sure how he knew I was going to Havana but I was open to what he had to say. He was basically trying to get me on the all Cuban bus line going to Havana, charging me the same price as the tourist bus line. It was pure corruption, but I didn’t mind at all if my money went to them instead of the government. I worked it out to get a discount and leave an hour earlier on the Cuban bus line. Perfect! Almost. Down the road the bus was given a surprise check. Guess who didn’t have a ticket! It was no problem for me but I can only imagine the fate of the people involved in smuggling me on board. The manager seemed to be writing a pretty extensive report.

Reads: "Revolution is: not lying ever, not violating the principal ethics" CDR (Committee for the Defense of the Revolution)

Another interesting part of the night was seeing two of the three bus drivers, each in their late 40’s hitting on the prettiest girls on the bus. They may have been 18. Along the way we stopped for a late dinner and the drivers were plying the girls with a nice meal and alcohol. Later on their double date moved behind restaurant by the bathrooms where they were trying to make their moves. It was sad and interesting at the same time. The girls seemed to be happy to be taken care of but not so interested in two aging bus drivers. They played along.