Hitch-hiking is not a free-spirited, adventurous form of travel in Cuba, it is the only viable transportation option for most people. It is organized to some extent, but still requires some strategy. I was new to hitch-hiking in Cuba and I wasn't sure what to make of it at first. From the bus stop we walked along the exit ramp to the highway and waited with a few other people who were clearly waiting for a ride but not doing much about it. This seemed strange to me. I was planning to go to a different place than my new friends so I decided to move down the road and separate from the pack – we had been waiting about 15 minutes without any luck, meanwhile more people were congregating in the same spot, I figured it was a smart move. Not long after I repositioned myself a large truck pulled up to the pack of people waiting and almost everyone jumped on. I ran back in time to scramble up the side, but my friends stayed behind. It wasn't going all the way to their stop and it was too much work for them to bother climbing in the back of the truck. They would wait for a smaller vehicle, now with less competition. Hitch-hiking is a state-mandated form of transportation in Cuba. Any state owned vehicle with a blue license plate, most of the vehicles in Cuba, are required to take hitch-hikers if they have space available. In return they are paid a small sum of money for each passenger. That is the theory, but the practice is another matter. In this case the system worked and each passenger paid about 30 US cents to ride almost two hours down the highway. The same trip by bus would have cost 20 times as much. We were stopped once by the police so they could search the truck for goods intended to be sold. It is illegal to buy anything for the purpose of resale and there are heavy fines for offenders.
The truck dropped off and picked up people along the way, usually at turnoffs and overpasses. I was traveling beyond the route of the truck so I was instructed to get off at one of the earlier overpasses where workers in yellow shirts stopped, or tried to stop, state owned vehicles to help hitch-hikers get rides. I was instructed to wait there instead of the overpass ahead because I would have a better chance of catching a vehicle with room. When there are a lot of people waiting for rides a list is formed for different destinations and people are assigned to vehicles according to the order of the list. Alternately, others with more disposable income would migrate down the road and waive a greater sum of money than the regular fare. Once the yellow-shirted friend prove futile in stopping most state owned vehicles passing by I decided to move down the road and also wave cash.
I was picked up by an Italian couple that wanted nothing to do with the money. They were happy to give me a lift and we made our way speaking a combination of Spanish and English. They were going down the road some distance but not far enough to get me to where I was hoping to go. Instead they were traveling to a place called San Diego de los Baños, a small town known for its healing hot springs and nearby nature reserve. I decided to change my plan and rode with them to San Diego de los Baños. There we passed by the hot springs that were somehow housed, and closed for maintenance reasons. The Italian couple dropped me off and I decided to make my way to the nature reserve to camp for the night. To get there I hopped on another state owned truck for all of 5 US cents and got off near the park entrance. As I walked through the castle like entrance a country farmer walked up behind me going the same direction. We talked for a bit and hit it off, his name was Mario. I could see that he was harmless and well intentioned so I accepted his offer to spend the night at his place in the country. We walked through the park which was in ruin and he explained how great it was when he was a kid. Mario was 59 years old, so he was about 9 when the revolution came to town. The park still retains much of it's biodiversity but has not been kept up in the last few decades.
I figured the least I could do was buy the rum for our night out in the country, and we happened to pass a place that was able to fill up two empty beer bottles to go. In Cuba it seems like rum is never in short supply even though many other things are, and they apparently drink it like water. We hiked past the park and took a path through the woods to get to Mario's ranch house. He made coffee and we stayed up for a while drinking and talking by the light of two oil lamps, occasionally we listened to the radio to hear where the hurricane was heading. His family was back in San Diego de los Baños, so I helped myself to an empty bed when the rum was gone. It was a great and completely random night, who knew.
The next day I had it in mind to continue traveling west to Viñales after I spent some time seeing Mario's ranch. We were up with the sunrise and it was a beautiful morning. The animals were all wondering about the yard and the landscape was striking. Mario made some strong Cuban coffee then went to feeding the chickens, ducks, turkey, dog, and cat. After some coffee and roasted sweet potatoes we walked down to see his bull and the unfinished woodpile which would later be slowly burned to become charcoal. That was his official job with the state. His pigs were missing in the early morning, but in our tour of the ranch we found them digging around one of the fields. He shooed them back towards the house and fed them once they were there. In our tour we also ran into one of his neighbors who rode up on horse. They talked for a while and then Mario lent him a Hoe. Back at the house Mario went to convincing me to stay for the rest of the day and caught one of his chickens to cook for lunch. On top of that he rolled each of us a handmade cigar, and showed me how to do it. After such a beautiful start to the morning I decided to stay the rest of the day and maybe see Mario's family back in San Diego as well as more of the town and dilapidated nature reserve. We went down to the pond to get some water to clean the chicken and get lunch started.
In hind sight I wish I would have left my experience of life in the Cuban country side at that. Since Mario didn't have any electricity at his house we needed to go back down to the cafeteria at nature reserve to charge my camera battery. The plan was to drop off the battery have a beer then come back to the house for lunch, after that we would pick up the battery and continue on to see Mario's family back in San Diego. We dropped of the battery but one beer turned into several and it was just getting into the afternoon. I can handle alcohol pretty well but Mario was on a roll and didn't care to stop. On top of that another side of him came out. Since we spent so much time at the Park cafeteria we ditched our lunch plans and rode to San Diego in one of the state sponsored horse carts. Along with us came a prostitute that Mario had clearly known in the biblical sense and she was stone drunk and apparently destitute as well. Halfway out of the park at an abandoned house she motioned the driver to stop so she and Mario could talk. She needed money and wanted to be with Mario to get the money. I didn't hear the extent of their private conversation, but I'm assuming he didn't have enough or wasn't that motivated. It was ugly and I did want anything to do with it but this was there lives and I was stuck there for the night. While they were trying to work it out I walked on to see some guy playing around in a creek.
We continued on to San Diego, and Mario on his binge. I saw some more of the town but Mario's wife and family had left to stay with other family. Two vicious hurricanes had passed a couple of months ago and tore off the front part of the roof of their house in San Diego. For as little as one makes in Cuba, roughly the value of one beer a day, it was tough to see money spent on booze when their house was without a roof. Until we were ready to head back to the ranch I walked the town admiring all of the beautiful old cars.
We made it back to the ranch house after dark by riding with one of his friends who was driving a tractor back that way. We had a less enthusiastic night. Mario showed me a typical dice game they play in Cuba and we ate the chicken that had been cooked and sitting in the pot all day. No salmonella so far. The next morning Mario rolled some cigars for me and asked for some money to be able to buy some more booze, he had run out of cash. I gave him a little cash and he walked me out to the road where I started on my way to Viñales.
Coffee by oil lamp
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