Latin America 2018 - Day 57. Varadero to La Habana

My colectivo to La Habana arrived at 9 am, like clockwork. We were indeed taking the turnpike along the coast, which is in perfect condition and fast. By 11:30 am I arrived back in Nuria’s home, only to find out that a water pipe had burst inside my bedroom, which in turn triggered some major work in both the bedroom and the underlying living room. I was thus relocated to Mimi’s house, about a block away. I had arrived too early, however, and the room was not ready, so I just dumped my luggage and took to the streets.

I had one last place I wanted to visit in Habana: The Barrio Chino in Central Habana. I wanted to see it as a tribute to my late friends Armando and Estrella Ley. Armando, who reached the ripe age of 104 years old, was born in China but came to Cuba as a young man. According to Estrella he was a Jack-of-all trades, but eventually became a photographer. He was quite the dapper man and not afraid of courting the good-looking Estrella. Like in all good love stories they married and lived … a very hard life in Cuba, and suffered many hardships after the US declared the inhuman economic blockade of the island. On separate occasions each of them told me about the tough years, and of the miracles they engineered to keep afloat, educate their son, see him married, and eventually emigrate as a family to Spain (so the story has a happy ending after all 😊). I am glad I had a chance to remember them as I drifted through the streets of China Town, feeling that they had walked these same streets.

Later I drifted without aim through Old Habana, visiting bookstores and admiring handcrafts that I had no interest in buying. I have managed to spend most of my CUC’s, having saved only the absolutely necessary to have lunch, pay for my lodging tonight, and get a cab to the airport.

Once all is said and done, I spent exactly US$ 1,500 dollars in this trip, of which 200 dollars went straight to the government, and I was left with 1,300 CUC. Minus 100 CUC buying guayaberas (which is not strictly a travel expense) brings the total to 1,200 CUC. Minus 150 CUC for colectivos for city-to-city travel yields 1,050 CUC.  In 14 days that would make an average of 75 CUC per day. Average lodging (with breakfast) was 35 CUC, so what was left was 40 CUC per day for food and entertainment. Not too bad overall, but not necessarily cheap. 

Tomorrow I will fly from La Habana to Cancún, and five hours later I will take the flight to Monterrey, where I shall arrive at 7:30 pm. I am renting a car at the airport to drive to Monclova, but will actually spend the night in Monterrey at a hotel near the airport. I would not like to fall asleep on the way to Monclis. Since a day of travel is completely uninteresting I guess it is time to bring my Latin America 2018 blog to an end. Before I go, however, let me tell you that Nuria and her husband took me to the airport. My papers said I was leaving from Terminal 2, but Nuria assured me that it was from Terminal 3. Since the terminals are kilometers apart I was a bit anxious about being at the wrong place with very little time to spare. Nuria put me at my ease, asking her husband to wait in the car while she walked me into the airport and located the correct counter; she was correct, of course, and as she gave me a last hug I once again had the chance to thank God for giving me this warm lady as a guardian angel. Goodbye beautiful Cuba. I take with me the happy memories of the kind and friendly Cuban people, the peculiar music of your Spanish, your rhythms and delicious food, and the beauty of your mountains and shores.  May we see each other again.

Finis

Latin America 2018 - Day 56. My last tourist day

Today is my last full day as a tourist, both in Varadero and in Cuba. True, tomorrow I have the trip from Varadero to La Habana, and I will probably go out to roam the streets of La Habana tomorrow afternoon, but it will mostly be a day devoted to getting ready for the trip to Cancún.

So, back to it being my last full day. Now, what is left in my Cuba list to do? Snorkeling and caving, so I booked a trip with the local dive shop that included both (39 CUC). The meeting point for me was going to be in the Club Tropical Hotel, and while I was there I went in and asked what it cost to stay there. 135 CUC per day, all meals and beverages included. This was a nice 3-star hotel, in the old part of Varadero, which as I said caters to national tourism. It had a nice lobby, a swimming pool, and access to the beach. I suspect the “all included” feature is the way in which older, traditional hotels are trying to compete with the resorts.

The outfit picked me up at 9 am from the hotel, together with another family, and took us to their office for outfitting (which I didn’t need since I had been lugging my snorkeling kit all along) and consolidation. At the end we must have been a good 30 people, and by 10 am we took off toward the west (toward Matanzas) headed for Playa Corales 20 km away. We took the coastal toll road (the only toll road I saw in Cuba) and I could see along it three oil drilling rigs hard at work, flying the flags of Cuba and China. I also saw two small donkey pumps extracting oil in small amounts, so clearly this is an area of interest for the government-owned petroleum company (I bet the tourist industry is thrilled about it).

Snorkeling was, as always, a lot of fun. Saw many branching corals and brain corals, as well as innumerable tropical fishes of beautiful colors. I also saw a moray eel! Alas, no sharks, rays, or marine turtles, so I still have to rate the Galapagos as a superior dive. There was a type of coral that looked like a handful of microphones held together, a geometry that is not conducive to sturdiness; many of these corals were obviously growing over the pieces of older “microphone” corals that had broken off. Later I asked our guide and he explained to me that the reef gets trashed every few years by hurricanes; only last year they had a hurricane whose eye had paralleled the north coast of Cuba, causing relatively little inland damage, but the eye had pushed in front of it a surge that flooded the barrier island with four or five meters of seawater. Because it is elongated in an east-west direction, the hurricanes that enter the Gulf of Mexico rake the entire length of the island with dismaying frequency. They do have a good monitoring system, however, so although property damage is unavoidable it is very rare for them to have casualties.

We snorkeled for about an hour, and after that headed for the Saturno Cave, which is a relatively small cave but has the added feature that at about 20 m depth in bottoms in a crystalline lake of cold, fresh water. Not quite a cenote because the cave slopes about 45 degrees, but close enough. Cubans have the reputation of being good spelologists, and I can say that the map they had on display was indeed of the highest quality, and included the mapping of two submarine tunnels, and the bathymetry of the 22 m-deep pool at the bottom. It was a nice experience to swim in it for 45 minutes or so.

For the afternoon my only plan is to survive. I have separated the money for the room I have been inhabiting for the last three days, the fee of the colectivo to La Habana, my lodging for one night in La Habana, and the cost of the ride to the airport. With all that done I have exactly 28.50 CUC left. I need to eat today (say 8.5 CUC), which will leave me 20 CUC for La Habana tomorrow.

Rats! I forgot one more thing I still have to do here in Cuba: Admire the sunset at the beach. It is summer, and sunset doesn’t come until 8 pm, so I have missed it every day. Not today, however. I went bathing at the beach in the afternoon, came back to my room to change into fresh clothes, and then went for my last stroll down the beach, which was still crowded with national tourists. It was a handsome sunset and this time I got to take many pictures. Afterward I went to look for a place to have dinner, and for exactly 7.50 CUC I had fish Eperlan (strips of marinated fish dipped in batter and afterward deep fried), and a couple of sodas. Being in an expansive mode I even left 1 CUC of tip. I like to stay in budget.

Latin America 2018 - Day 55. Freedom!

I meant to make the most of my motorcycle freedom, so come 8 am I was on the road, in the rout to Matanzas, which is probably 35 km away.  I was in discovery mode, so once I got the general direction I took whatever road looked interesting to me. Very pretty, green country with vast sugar cane plantations and small patches devoted to corn and other crops.

My guiding star took me past a couple of nature parks where I was able to observe a few birds and a very peculiar lizard. It is called the Squirrel Lizard and what makes it peculiar is that when at rest it curls its tail over its back. Because the underside of the tail is much lighter than the top view, this peculiar curling makes the lizard much more visible to potential predators. What evolutionary advantage could this trait bring? I suspect this is a case of mimetism, and that in this way the lizard is disguising itself as a scorpion (but I still need to find if there are scorpions in Cuba; or maybe there are particularly stupid birds?).

Eventually I reached the city of Matanzas, which is built around the bay of the same name. It is a pretty setting, but the city is old and the narrow streets feel a bit oppressive. I stopped at a small modern restaurant by the bay, to have a late breakfast. After a goodly amount of time the waiter came to take my order (coffee and a ham and cheese sandwich), and it was nearly half hour before I got it. Long wait times seem to be a feature of Cuban restaurants, even if there are only three customers, all waiting for their orders.

On the way back I saw a sign to the monument of the Slaves in Revolt, which commemorates a revolt of plantation slaves in 1850. There was a small museum there, but they wanted 5 CUC’s to enter and I decided it was too much for my blood. Note: Since I came to the region of Varadero it seems to me that all things that should be 1 CUC are all of a sudden 5 CUC’s.

My sense of orientation failed me at this point, and I did a good 20 km in the wrong direction. No big deal since the whole objective of the day is just “to see Cuba”, and I am pretty sure I went through small agricultural towns that have not seen a tourist since they were established. Of course I had to undo the 20 km, after which the fuel gage started migrating into red territory. Fortunately I found a gas station in another small town, and made friends with the attendant while putting gas. It was an easy conversation, which reminded me that Cubans are friendly, educated, and love talking to visitors.

I am now waiting for the sun to get down to make an incursion into the beach.

I am back. Wow, Varaderos has a gorgeous beach with coarse white sand, crystal clear refreshing water, and very little to do. I bobbed in the non-breaking waves for an hour, thinking I could hold until sunset (I couldn’t). Maybe tomorrow.

Latin America 2018 - Day 54. Trinidad to Varadero

I was lucky that I drew a chatty driver for the 300 km between Trinidad and Varadero. We talked about our families, exchanged recipes (I explained in detail how to make masa para tortillas, how to make cochinita pibil, and how to make flautas de pollo, and he gave me instructions for marinating pork, chicken, and fish for a grilling party), talked about the Cuban revolution, and I also told him in detail about my trip through Latin America. In the back seat we had three Swiss girls, but they had very limited Spanish and chose instead to sleep all the way.

Varadero has been a vacation destination for many Cubans, but in the last 10 years the government has granted some concessions to big European hotel chains, such as Meliá and Barceló, to develop a key, 15 km long, with super luxury resort hotels. It looks a bit like Puerto Vallarta, where you have the charm of the old town (plus housing for the hotel employees), and a different world behind fences where tourists stay for a week or two in an all-inclusive environment. The tourists get to “travel to Cuba” and still be isolated from the country and its people (I saw the same phenomenon in Jamaica).

Wondering how I was going to survive three days of beach I walked down the street and finally found a place that would rent me a scooter. If I could come back at 5 pm I could have the scooter for 24 hours for 35 CUC! So I went for a walk, bought some necessities (like a pint of Havana Club rum and a liter of coke), read in my room for a while, and in no time whatsoever I had wheels. I was ecstatic. It has been convenient being driven from one point to another, but I am a free spirit and needed the freedom of going wherever I felt to.

Varadero is a long skinny city built on a barrier island (or cayo), such that it has beach on both sides, has only four streets and a freeway parallel to the shores, and maybe 60 blocks, the whole for a total length of maybe 3 km. That is the old part of the city. The new Riviera Varaderos is the continuation along the barrier island for another 15 km, and it was here that I headed in my maiden voyage of scooter exploration.

Wow, the new developments are in the grand scale of what you see in the Riviera Maya! Some of the resorts are still under construction, but many of them looked fully operational to me (although only on one occasion was I able to spot actual tourists within them). The marina is totally amazing, with a fleet of at least 25 huge, brand new catamarans. Clearly Cuba intends to compete for tourists in the Caribbean!

I got back home as dusk was starting, and stopped to have dinner at a fish restaurant. I ordered a whole fish, which took a long time to arrive but when it did was both huge and very tasty. The cook was very appreciative of my praise and shared that they had just caught that particular fish an hour ago. Yum, yum, fresh fish 😊

Latin America 2018 - Day 53. The beach

I have run out of things to do, so I will have to spend another dreaded day at the beach. As a kid I absolutely loved going to the beach to play with my brother, make sand castles with my Mom, or go swimming into the surf with my Dad. I did the same thing with my daughter, lifting and throwing her to dive under the breaking waves, digging endless pits in the sand, or bobbing up and down as the waves came by. Now, however, without someone to play with I find the beach quite dull.

From Trinidad I took the beach bus, which for 5 CUC’s will take you to playa Ancona and bring you back. Going there, however, we passed a small town called La Boca (of the Río Agabama), which seemed to have a healthy number of Cuban families having fun. When we got to Playa Ancona I found the perfect tourist beach, with coarser sand formed by shell fragments, where you can lay under the sun until you are broiled, play in the waves, or drink and read under a shade structure. That was good for about a hour, and then I took the bus back to La Boca. I got there when the sun was at its hottest, but fortunately there were trees allover the beach (and palm trees and shades), so I could go the full length of the beach by connecting from shade to shade.

The scene was fun and local. The kids are in their summer vacation for the whole of the month of July, so many families were enjoying their last chance to bring the kids to the beach. The offer of food and trinkets was meager, but I bought myself a plate of spaghetti with cheese that was enough to tame my hunger. I went all the way to the mouth of the river, hoping someone would offer me a boat ride through the estuary (nobody did ☹), and on the way back I spied a small sign offering Crudo de Pescado (raw fish). Hmm, I wonder how tasty is that? In my mind it would have been some sort of ceviche, but it was not. Apparently it is made from an “oily” fish, such as mackerel or sierra, that is cut in 1 cm-thick slices and quickly fried to separate the skin from the flesh. Afterward it is marinated in vinegar, salt, and white pepper for several days. The skin is then removed and the whole thing is mushed with bell pepper, and is then eaten with genuine Cuban crackers (smaller than the ones we used to buy in Mexico, but otherwise just as tasteless; the Latin version of hard tack).

I spent the afternoon reading at home, and when I was gathering strength to go for an early evening walk it started raining. I thus turned in early and very comfortably read my way through hurricane winds and a veritable deluge.

Latin America 2018 - Day 52. El Valle de los Ingenios

Ingenio is the name in Spanish for a sugar cane plantation (it also means “ingenuity”, which is from which the word ingeniería comes from, but that doesn’t have anything to do with this narrative). The broad valley of the Río Agabama, Cuba’s largest river in terms of discharge, on the southern flank of the Sierra del Escambray, was the perfect setting for the growth of sugar cane, so in the late 1800’s and most of the 1900’s it became one of the main sugar production centers of the island. A train line connected the different ingenious and my plan today was to take the train up the valley to go see what I could see.

At 9 am I walked the dozen blocks between my residence and the train station, only to find out that the train engine had died a couple of weeks ago, and was not expected to be repaired for yet a few more weeks. A small number of fellow tourists were milling around, sharing my disappointment, but fortunately there were a couple of taxis on standby, and in no time whatsoever I organized another couple to create a colectivo to go see the valley.

Our first stop was at a vista point from which we got great views of the wide valley and the Escambray mountains in the background. From there we went to the Ingenio San Isidro de los Destiladeros, where the ruins of one of the sugar mills are used as a museum to introduce visitors to the activities of the old sugar mills. In these mills, the cane juice was reduced by boiling it in big cauldrons down to a heavy molasse. Once the molasse was at its sweet point, it was transferred to wooden bats and stirred vigorously as the sugar started to crystallize. The mix of sugar crystals and residual molasse was then packed into beehive-shaped earthen jars with a narrow bottom hole closed with sugar cane reeds, and allowed to sit for 50 days dripping molasses and leaving behind a loaf of pan de azucar or piloncillo. Note: I sighted the elusive Brown Grouse of the Ingenios.

In the third stop at Manaca Iznaga we visited a tower left from one of the large ingenious, as well as a beautifully reconstructed manor house that is now used as a tourist restaurant. The short walk between the train station (where we had parked) and the tower was lined with hundreds of snow-white table clothes, lovingly decorated by local artisans. I, of course, moved through them like a ship passing in the night. The tower must have been a good 40 m high, and from it the plantation manager used to control the slaves that worked the fields, as well as the activities of recollection and loading unto rail cars. I looked at the large number of steps and decided that my tired legs didn’t require the additional stress. Too bad because my travel buddies went up and spent forever up there. In the meantime I tasted a delicious glass of freshly-pressed sugar cane juice, and indulged in a bunch of mamoncillos. This strange fruit is kind of a national pastime in this part of Cuba. They are rounded fruits, maybe the size of very large grapes, with a resilient skin and a sweet interior. I believe they are related to lychees, but are green rather than red. The way to eat then is to pierce the skin with the edge of your nail, and then pop them pen at the time you suck the sweet gooey inside. They do have a large stone, so after sucking the good part you can see how far you can spit the stone.

Our final stop was at the Central FNTA, which was the sugar processing plant built in the 1930’s and finally decommissioned in 2004. The plant is now a museum (although most of the machinery was sold out when the plant folded. One of the workers has been retained as guide, and he gave us a very interesting explanation of the process of sugar refining. I am not sure I can reproduce the whole process, but I will mention that to produce modern-quality sugar it is important to keep close control of the crystallization processes of nucleation and growth. The sweet spot is when many nuclei of sugar form simultaneously; if the temperature can be held at this point, then many of the nuclei can grow into sugar crystals suspended in the molasses (a little like crystals form and grow in a cooling magma). If the temperature drops too fast, then the nuclei cannot grow enough and the crystals barely grow (like in an obsidian) and the batch is lost. If the cooling rate is too slow, then a few crystals grow to unacceptably large proportions and the rest become runts (like in a porphyritic rock). Under the right conditions of temperature and cooling many nuclei form, and all of them have a chance to grow (like in an aplite) into marketable sugar crystals. At the end, once the crystallization has reached the right point, the mix is poured into a centrifuge, and the residual molasse is separated by filter pressing (like in the magnetite ores of Kirunavaara!).

Latin America 2018 - Day 51. Cienfuegos to Trinidad

Yesterday we went up the mountain ridge of El Escambray. Today, in contrast, I skirted the south side of the mountains at neck-breaking speed in a 1954 Plymouth (beefed up with a Toyota diesel motor) to arrive to the charming town of Trinidad. This town reminded me of Antigua in Guatemala or San Miguel in Mexico. Beautiful country houses in a fair state of conservation, cobble-stone streets, handcraft shops in every other door, and countless places to spend the hours drinking mojitos.

I am conveniently staying at a house right behind the main plaza, so after getting settled I went for a walk across the central park, and much to my delight found an archaeology museum. Rather sad looking displays, but I learned that the first inhabitants of Cuba arrived ca. 8,000 BC from Florida. The next wave was ca. 2,500 BC from Central America, followed by groups from the Gulf Coast (Texas, Mississippi, and Louisiana) ca. 500 BC. A final group arrived from Venezuela ca. 500 AD, and that was it until the arrival of the Spaniards in 1492.

After all that culture I was thirsty and was glad to stumble with the Casa de la Cerveza. Beer here is a bit weak, but they know how to keep it cold.

An interesting museum was the Museo del Bandidaje, mostly because it added some order to what I have understood of the modern history of Cuba. It all started with the Spanish-American war in the late 1890’s, with the Americans giving the Spanish colonies of the Caribbean “a hand” in securing their independence. In exchange, the United Fruit Company was given exclusivity and all kinds of incentives to open extensive banana and sugar cane plantations in the Caribbean. The history of the United Fruit Company is a dark one, and in Cuba resulted in all sorts of abuse of the workers and their families in the first half of the XX century. To add insult to injury, organized crime used Cuba as a place of business, and a place for wealthy Americans to go and buck the restrictions of the Prohibition era. In short, Cuba became the brothel of America.

Under these conditions, the socialist message of the recent Soviet revolution started to eco through the land, and there were many who denounced the corrupt Cuban government and called for unions and better conditions for the plantation workers. The US saw this as a threat to the United Fruit Company, and trying to stomp out the unrest supported the coup d’etat of General Fulgencio Batista in 1950, during Truman’s second-term in office. Batista was going to be the hard hand that would brutally quash the unrest. A young lawyer, Fidel Castro, took it upon himself to organize an opposition, and in 1954 attempted an armed takeover of one of the military garrisons. He failed and was tried for treason to the regime. He conducted his own defense, and in a final peroration to the judge, in what was to become the famous “History shall absolve me” speech, he denounced all the social evils perpetrated by the regime. Fidel was condemned to jail, but thanks to the influence of his family and friends was paroled two years later and expulsed from the country.

Fidel then went to Mexico, where he met Ernesto “Ché” Guevara and other Cuban dissidents, to plan his next move. In August 1956, Fidel and José Antonio Echeverría, issue the Carta de México calling to arms against the Cuban dictatorship of Batista. Echeverría himself led a failed attack to the Presidential Palace in March 1957 and was killed. Fidel, on his side, organized a group of perhaps 40 armed revolutionaries, and in late 1957 embarked in the yacht Granma, and all but shipwrecked in the coast near Santiago. Only a handful of revolutionaries made it on land. Taking stock of his forces Fidel is claimed to have said “Eight men and seven rifles? We can win this war.” Fidel lost himself in the Sierra Maestra, near Santiago de Cuba, while Faure Chomón led another revolutionary group into the El Escambray mountains. Together they started the fight in February 1958, gaining strength as peasants and other revolutionaries joined them, and in surprising 10 months they defeated the forces of Batista, and in January 1, 1959, entered La Habana in victory.

The next three years Fidel and his associates spent setting the government, and also fighting Los Bandidos, which was the name given to the guerrilleros who didn’t lay down their weapons as the revolution triumphed. The Bandidos holed themselves in the mountainous areas of Cuba, but very particularly in El Escambray, from where they spoiled nearby towns like Trinidad. The revolutionary government promptly organized brigades to hunt and catch these rebels. In December 1960, shortly after his inauguration, JFK attempted to use these Bandidos to destabilize the revolutionary government, and attempted to disembark weapons to support them in the nearby Bay of Pigs. He hadn’t count on the revolutionary brigades, however, who quashed the invasion and thus harvested a very fine collection of weaponry. That was the end of the Bandidos era.

Eventually I got tired of walking through the town, and went back to my room to read. It was a bit early to go to bed, however, so around 6:30 pm I got out and soaked in the color and music of an afternoon in the town, with people pulling chairs into the sidewalk to enjoy the breeze and talk loudly with their neighbors. Night fell and I headed for the central park, attracted by the sound of music. Looking toward the cathedral I realized that the music came from the very wide stairs that flank the cathedral. This area is the House of Music, and is an outdoors recreating area where, for 2 CUP (or 1 CUC), you can sit, order a beer, and listen to a salsa band. Dancing is encouraged but not required. What a lovely way to finish the day!

Latin America 2018 - Day 50. Parque Natural El Nicho and shopping in Cienfuegos

Today I am joining an excursion to the Parque Natural El Nicho, which reportedly has some very pretty waterfalls. My ride is a 1952 Ford, which I am sharing with two Belgian girls and a couple from Basque Spain. The distance must have been about 40 km, but it took us an hour and a half to get there because we had to climb the El Escambray mountain range (maybe 500 m above the level of the surrounding plains).

As soon as we got there we were treated to another round of tourist abuse, paying 10 CUC for what the natives pay 4 CUP. Tourists pay 62.5 times more than the locals!

Money annoyance apart, El Nicho is indeed a delight. Something like Cola de Caballo in Monterrey, where the path climbs along a series of pools until it meets the main waterfall, which is gorgeous. Right at the foot of the waterfall is the Crystal Pool, where I waded in refreshingly cool water (it was morning, and high in the mountains, so the temperature was nowhere near what it is in Ciendfuegos).I took my time to look at the place, and at the end sat for about an hour in the restaurant, drinking beer and reading my book.

We were back in Cienfuegos at about 2:30 pm, and I thought this might be the place to buy a couple of guayaberas. The people here are more relaxed than in La Habana, and most look at the tourist as someone who needs care, so I felt I might get a fair price here. Asking here and there I was directed to “el Boulevard” and “la calle de los Artesanos”, where no traffic is allowed and many artisans display their wares in small street booths. I ended buying four guayaberas for a grand total of 105 CUC’s, which I felt it was a good price (and a bargain if they don’t shrink dramatically). While I was out there I also had a good lunch of fish and chips (the chips were terrible, but the fish was outstanding).

I feel the best way to spend what is left of the day will be reading in my air-conditioned room.

Latin America 2018 - Day 49. Viňales to Cienfuegos

After another monstrous breakfast I said goodbye to my gracious host, and started on the 400 km trip to Cienfuegos. One taxi took me and three Belgians to La Habana, where we transferred to a different taxi that did the remaining 250 km to Cienfuegos. We got there around 1:30 pm, and the taxi drove me directly to my next guesthouse Casa de Momo. Momo, which is short for Jerónimo, is a friendly old man (he is 76) who runs the guesthouse together with his daughter Ileana (Casa de Momo, Calle 35 # 5806, entre 58 y 60, Cienfuegos. Tel (53) 43 51 6549, Cell +53 52 81 0055. Email Ileana77@nauta.cu Ileanagarciasaenz@yahoo.com). It is an old house, right in downtown, but it offers all comforts and extensive free advice from Momo.

Cienfuegos, La Perla del Sur, is a clean and well maintained colonial city that protrudes into the Cienfuegos Bay (which means there is water on three of the four sides of the city). It was named Cienfuegos way back then when it was established, so it doesn’t have anything to do with the guerrillero Camilo Cienfuegos.

As soon as I had my room I dumped all my stuff and took to the streets. It is easy to navigate because we are one block off the main street, which follows the length of the peninsula from north to south. It was fairly warm, soI had to dodge from shade to shade, but at least here there are palm trees in the malecón. At the end of the malecón there was a restaurant that seemed to cater to families, with small palapas to sit and enjoy the breeze. I sat in one of them and ordered a mojito, which was pretty good but came in a small plastic cup, so I had to order a second one. Fortunately I had the presence of mind to refuse a third one, because when I went to pay I found that each was 4 CUC (an abuse to the dumb tourist, because the going rate for a mojito served in a proper glass is 1.50 or 2 CUC). That is what I get for not asking for the price in advance.

After the malecón comes a long spit of sand that has been developed with very pretty small houses. It reminded me so much of Veracruz. I walked to the very end of the land, peered into the vastness of Cienfuegos Bay, and then went back to have my dinner at a parrilla restaurant, where I had a pork rib with salad, a couple of beers, and a cigar (I couldn’t come to Cuba and not smoke a cigar; it was OK, not great).

On the way back I went through the central plaza, much admiring the cathedral, the municipal palace, and dozens and dozens of well preserved old houses. Clearly the cienfueguinos are very proud of their old city.

Latin America 2018 - Day 48. A country walk

Today I simply took to the hills. The limestone landscape is spectacular so I just trusted that there would be good stuff to see. I started walking north, for about 3 km, because yesterday I had seen a sign to “cave paintings”, which I took to indicate prehistoric paintings. Alas, no. Apparently several years ago an enterprising artist cleared all the vegetation from a wall maybe 20 m high and just as long, and using garish colors painted a mural with a couple of humans facing a giant ammonite and a few dinosaurs. Fortunately the thing can be seen from the road and I saved the entrance fee of 3 CUC’s.

The area where the painting was located is a big amphitheater surrounded by ghostly limestone mounds, but all of them to far for me to do something crazy like try to climb them. Instead I stopped at a small beer stand, refreshed myself, and engaged in conversation with a farmer who invited me to see his tobacco barn. He had already harvested, dried, and sold this year’s crop, but he showed me the seeds he will use next season (the small tobacco plants are grown in nursery beds, and once they are about 10 cm high they are transplanted to the fields), a handful of dried tobacco leaves, and finally tried to sell me a dozen home-made cigars for 20 CUC’s. I was tempted, but then thought about passing them past Mexican, American, Russian, and American customs and decided it was not worth the risk.

By the time I got back from my walk I was hot and slightly dehydrated, so I took a shower and a long nap. I only woke up to have dinner (again, a superabundant dinner that I barely dented) and went back to bed. I hate to say it, but I am getting travel weary. 

Latin America 2018 - Day 47. The beach at Cayo Jutías

Viňales is a small town that has embraced tourism with a passion. According to my hosts, the town now counts with 1,300 guest rooms (mostly in private residences) and over 30 restaurants. The residences go out of their way to hold unto tourist CUC’s, by offering lavish breakfasts and copious dinners as added services. They also are glad to arrange transport to some of the nearby attractions, such as the beach at Cayo Jutías (65 km) or Maria la Gorda (120 km). I chose Cayo Jutías because I was assured that there was good snorkeling there (not true, I should have gone to Maria la Gorda).

At 8 am sharp a 1949 Plymouth pulled to the front of my guest house, I was ceremoniously installed in the front seat as befits my status as Don Horacio (while a French family of three was scrunched in the back), and we started in the slow but rather interesting trip to the beach. Pastor, our driver, is 56 years old and was delighted to have someone to talk to, so we talked about the history of the Cuban revolution, the hard times Cuba has gone through, and their hopes for the future. He told me that Fidel was still revered by one and all, and that the people would gladly tighten their belts when Fidel asked them to. But Raúl is not Fidel, so the winds of change are blowing. Tourism is the big industry nowadays, followed by mining, rum, cigars, and agriculture. He, for example, was for 16 years a maintenance technician for medical electronic equipment, making perhaps 500 CUP per month. Then the government released licenses for old cars to be used as taxis, so he pulled out of the garage the old 1949 Plymouth of his dad, got the taxi license, and today made 80 CUC by driving us four (2,000 CUP in one day!).

On the long way there we passed a couple of villages, and in one of them Pastor pointed out to us a two-stories green house. There is one like that in every village, and it houses the village clinic. The doctor lives on top, and the nurse lives in the ground floor, which also houses the clinic. Here, anyone can get free medical care or, for more serious conditions, a referral to the county or state hospital. Cuba is very proud of its public health system in general, and their obstetric and pediatric care in particular. Infant mortality stands at 1.5 per one thousand births, one of the lowest in the world.  

Once we got to the beach I experienced a great disappointment. It was a “perfect” beach: Flat, sandy, and without waves. Perfect for sun tanning or for babies to platch in the warm water, but with zero potential for snorkeling. Goodness, it was maybe 10 am and we were going to be there until 4 pm, so I was facing 6 hours of boredom under a relentless sun. I was a bit paranoid someone would pinch my snorkeling gear, so I left it close to a cooler and other beach paraphernalia that someone had left under a tree, and then went for a swim. After 5 minutes I had done all the swimming I was going to do, and headed for the beach, past three young couples who had tied a bottle of rum to a stick pushed into the sand, way out there in the water, and were just enjoying the baby waves. They greeted me, offered me a sip, and we stayed chatting there for a couple of hours.

Osmani and Rosana, Marcus and Jenny, and Raul and Beatriz had come from Puerto Esperanza to spend the day at the beach. Osmir, Rosana, and Jenny were teachers, celebrating this way the start of the summer vacation, and they told me all about how difficult it was to make ends meet on a teacher’s salary, which amounts to only 250 CUP per month. Marcus and Beatriz were brother and sister, and they work for their dad in the cultivation of tobacco. They seemed to do better than their teacher friends, but I do not know by how much. Marcus is a massage therapist and again seemed to be doing OK. Between sip and sip we polished two bottles of rum, talked about everything under the sun, and eventually they invited me to join them for lunch. They were the owners of the cooler I had left my things by, and in no time whatsoever I had a nice bowl of rice with beans and a leg of roasted chicken. Without noticing the time rushed by, and I was a bit sad when at 4 pm I had to say goodbye to my new friends. I hope life treats them gently.

Pastor and I had another wonderful conversation on the way back, and I further learned that the taxis have organized themselves so the guesthouses call a central point and order “one seat on a taxi for Cayo Jutías, to be picked at 8 am at the house of Anabelkis”, and then the dispatcher fills the spaces on the available taxis so everyone gets steady work. Clever Cubans, they know how to organize!

Latin America 2018 - Day 46. La Habana to Viňales

Time to test my inner-circle trip arrangements. Taxi arrived in time at 10:30 am, as promised, and Nuria reminded me that the cost would be 20 CUC’s. A comparatively new Pegeaut (the legend about Cuba having only old American cars is false; there are plenty of Japanese, European, and Russian cars as well), with air conditioning, and traveling shotgun. Not bad at all. After crossing the city we took to a highway in quite a good state, and settled for the 180 km trip to Viňales, which is west of La Habana. I was a bit puzzled that I was the only passenger, because I understood this was a colectivo, but after 50 km he took a short detour to a small town and picked up a young German couple that was also going to Viňales. The road crossed through beautiful green country, which promises surprises very different from those of La Habana.

Once in Viňales the taxi drove me to the house of Ana Belkins and Dayron (Calle 3a. Pasaje 19, No. 2-A; entre 2da y Sergio Dopico; Tel. +53 5 834 2958 (Cell and WhataApp); email dayana.belkis71@gmail.com), who would be my hosts for the following three days. Nice friendly couple, and the room in the back was deliciously modern and comfortable. Ana welcomed me with a planning session, so I have determined that tomorrow I will go to the seashore to go snorkeling, and the day after I will go for an ecologic hike. As for today, I am free to do whatever I want.

The Valley of Viňales is carved along a contact between red beds on the northeast flank and massive limestones on the southwest flank. The land has been uplifted, and the limestones have developed a karstic topography not unlike the one in the Pearl River in China or Halung Bay in Vietnam (OK, maybe not as impressive, but pretty cool nonetheless). At first I thought they were reef limestones, and decided to spend the afternoon hiking to go check them out. They ended being massive micrites, with abundant styolites, so I am guessing the massive aspect is a consequence of recrystallization under orogenic pressure rather than an original sedimentologic structure.

The heat eventually drove me back home, where I had a good time reading in the breeze porch (the house is high over the town, so it enjoys good wind), until it was time for dinner, when I was served an enormous meal with salad, French fries, sweet potato fries, fish, moros y cristianos, and fruit. For once I had to accept defeat, and have requested , that the leftover salad and fruit be served as breakfast. I am certainly not suffering from hunger! 

Latin America 2018 - Day 45. Old La Habana

My goal today is to visit the east side of Old Habana, which apparently has received most of the development money, both to protect the cultural patrimony of Cuba and to attract tourism. A big cruise ship docked today, so there are many tourists left loose through the town.

Highlights of my rambling through the town included the cathedral and its plaza, which are beautifully restored. Cubans are mostly Catholics, but communism considers all religions equally bad, so there is also a synagogue, a mosque, a Russian Orthodox church, and who knows whatever else.

After my overdose of early colonial history in Cartagena I was eager to also explore that time period in the history of La Habana. Sadly I didn’t meet with much success. There is a museum of the city, in a handsomely restored building, but it was a collection of old crockery, fancy furniture, and military paraphernalia that didn’t tell a story.

Delma had marked in my map a series of places she thought I might find interesting, which provided a basic skeleton for my walk. I saw many parks, the archaeologic excavation to expose the old city wall, music bands performing for the cruise tourists, and lots of interesting looking people. I was in a race against the oppressing heat of the early afternoon, and was doing my best to remain properly hydrated, but eventually I gave up and stopped at the iconic bar “La Floridita” for a mojito. The bar’s claim to fame is to have invented the daikiri at the behest of Hemingway, and the fame that discovery has given them was enough to justify triple the price, a packed tourist clientele, and a very nice tropical band (they even played Guantanamera, which I am sure they play at least once every hour). Unfortunately my mojito eventually came to an end and I had to once again face the brutal noon sun.

I must have done something in between, but honestly my brain was fried and I have no clear recollection of what it was. What I do remember, however, is that Delma had recommended me a restaurant right in front of the Capitolio and miraculously I found myself in front of it, right when I was ready to collapse. The restaurant is really three restaurants in three separate floors, and I chose the Asturianito in the first floor, which specializes in Spanish food (the street address is Paseo del Prado 563). It was dark and cool, there were dozens of waiters at my service, and the elegantly dressed capitán de meseros graciously suggested a cold sangria while I looked at the menu. A quick look at the prices convinced me that I had found the perfect restaurant with perfect prices, so I ordered a jar of deliciously cool sangria, a bowl of hearty fabada asturiana, and a dish of lamb in rosemary sauce that was to die for. The lamb was not the chewy mutton that you often found in restaurants, but suckling lamb that melted in your mouth; and there was a lot of it! The final tab, including a generous tip was only 25 CUC. I love it 😊

For the afternoon I continued my exploration of the old city, concentrating on the small forts that protected this side of Habana Bay. The real big fortress is on the other side of the harbor, so I took the small boat that ferries passengers to the other side, to go pay a very limited visit to the old fortress (now a military base), the Casa Blanca (but I have no idea if this is where Raúl Castro lives), and a big marble Christ that looks benevolently over the city. Goodness, it is hot here. Fortunately I came across a tiny stand that sold very cold beer and had a very welcoming shade.

I made my way back home in stages, from shade to shade, from mojito to mojito, and once I got here I drank five glasses of cold water while I chatted with Maricela, or Mari, who works here and every morning prepares me a great cup of coffee and a tasty breakfast. Nice to connect with my support group.

Latin America 2018 - Day 44. Around La Habana.

Today I met Delma, a very smart and personable mulatta, who provided me with a map of the city, and told me that the city counts with a hop on – hop off touribus. I have died and gone to heaven 😊 For only 10 CUC’s I will be able to ride all over the city, stop at paces of interest, and then catch the next bus to the next cool stop. Delma told me how to get there (piece of cake) and gave me her own version of how to be a smart tourist in La Habana. Not a bad reminder, because I had to walk about 12 blocks through the dingiest part of La Habana before reaching the Parque Central, where at 9 am I was to take the very first bus of the day. Probably the first thing I learned is that La Habana is a lot more handsome than the bad first impression I had gotten the day before. From the Parque Central we followed the Paseo del Prado all the way to the malecón, from which we could see, across the Habana Channel, the Spanish fortress. Curiously my informants don’t think it is a tourist destination, probably because most of those facilities are occupied by the Cuban army. I am fascinated by the crucial role that Cuba played in the Spanish invasion of the New World and wouldn’t mind steeping myself in the colonial history of the place. However, until know I have not discovered a single museum that deals with this period of Cuban history. Is it that the Revolution of 1959 has truly erased from the people their long colonial past? Note: I would say that 70% of the people I see are mulattos, because Cuba was a major consumer of African labor, so I wouldn’t blame them if they have no interest in that painful time in their history.

We followed the malecón to the west, passing some landmarks like the Hotel Nacional built in the 1930’s, and a couple of big hotels built by Americans shortly before the Revolution. From there we took the attractive Avenida de los Presidentes, and eventually made it to the Plaza de la Revolución. It was in this plaza that Fidel would engaged in his multi-hour speeches to the people of Cuba every May 1 (International Labor Day), and apparently is the center of the old American convertibles, which for 30 to 60 CUC’s will take you in an old-fashioned tour of La Habana. The plaza is of course a big open space surrounded by the ministry of this and the ministry of that. The three landmarks in it are the monument to José Martí (very impressive statue and 100-m spire behind it), a giant outline of the head of Che Guevára (with a quote of his “Hasta la victoria siempre”), and another of Camilo Cienfuegos (with the quote “Vas bien, Fidel”). Nicely done!

From the plaza we headed to the northwest, passed the Cementerio Colón (the largest cemetery in Latin America), crossed the Río Almendares, and entered a very nice part of Habana, dominated by the residential neighborhoods of Kohly and Miramar, and the rather swanky Quinta Avenida. By the sea side I really liked the Hotel Copacabana (and I kicked myself for not stopping by and asking for their prices). Eventually we came to the far end of our tour, in the “beach” called La Cecilia. This is a favorite spot among Habaneros, who come to swim off the cliffs (there is no beach per se), picknic under the scrawny palm trees, or take the little ones to the biggest amusement park in town. Besides walking through these areas, I took the guágua (Cuban for city bus) to the Hemingway International Marina, where I saw some nice Key West boats and the Viejo y el Mar Hotel (and here I asked for prices, which ranged from 50 to 100 CUC’s per night). Have you read “The Old Man and the Sea”? It is one of Hemingway’s finest short novels and I strongly recommend it.

I did stop at the Acuario Nacional (the aquarium), got ripped off with a 10 CUC entrance fee, and quickly walked through what at best was a 2 CUC shabby exposition. They did have dolphin and sea lions shows, but those were at an additional cost, and the kids were having a good time, but I wouldn’t recommend it as a touristic attraction.

Overall I had a good, tiring day, and it was with grateful relief that after 10 solid hours of tourism I made it back to my home sweet home. 

Latin America 2018 - Day 43. Cancún to La Habana

I arrived to the airport 15 minutes later than I had planned (9:15 am), but was happy to see that the counter of AeroMexico was clear, so I got immediate attention and had plenty of time to get the gate for my 10:50 am flight. Surprisingly, there were very few people there. Was I going to have an almost empty flight? No, it is just that the inhabitants of Cancún have a different sense of time, and apparently being there 60 to 30 minutes prior to departure counts as being on time.

The flight was completely uneventful, and I landed in La Habana one and a half hours later, ready to tackle this new adventure. I started by exchanging money, from dollars to CUC’s (Cuban convertible units). Someone, who shall remain unnamed, told me that the currency exchange accepted only dollars. Not so, and I wish I had brought my money in euros, Canadian dollars, or even Mexican pesos, because dollars trigger an automatic 10% conversion tax (consider it the way in which Cubans get even with the Gringos for 60 years of economic blockade). On top of that, the conversion rate is 1 US dollar = 0.968 CUC; if we incorporate both the tax and the conversion rate, then we get a real exchange rate of 1 dollar = 0.868 CUC, or 1 CUC = 1.15 US dollars. This unfavorable rate makes expenses in CUC’s 15% higher when accounted in dollars. For example, a 30 CUC taxi is really costing US$ 34.50, a 35 CUC room is costing US$ 40, and so on. It would not be a big thing, but for the fact that tourists pay 25 to 50 times more than Cuban citizens for just about anything. Now, I support charging the tourists more, but I also think 5 to10 times is fair. 25 to 50 times is, in my humble opinion, an attempt to fleece the tourist, and that cannot bode well for the nascent tourist industry of Cuba.

Cuban citizens use a different currency than tourists, called the Cuban peso or CUP. 1 CUC = 25 CUP, so when the cost of visiting the aquarium is 5 CUP for the Cuban adult, and 10 CUC for the foreign adult, then the latter is paying 50 times more!

A certain person who shall remain unnamed told me that I should go to the guest house of Esther, without any further indication. So I confidently asked the taxi driver to take me to Casa Esther, only to be lectured about how useless that was as an indication. “There are thousands of Esthers in La Habana. Why my mother is called Esther.”, complained the taxi driver. “Very well, then take me to your mother’s house.”, I retorted. You can imagine how well my witticism was received. At the end I told him to take me to a house he could recommend in the old Habana, which he did. I landed at the house of Nuria Barrios. Neptuno No. 1024, esquina con Espada. Phones (+53) 7 879 4029, (+53) 5 817 2997 (cell and WhatsApp), (+53) 5 264 8186 (cell and WhatsApp). Emails nuriabeatriz1908@gmail.com, fabbeds@fabbeds.com.

I was a bit unhappy about location because this part of La Habana is quite run down. In retrospect I could have asked the taxi to take me to one of the newer or better kept parts of town, such as Avenida de Los Presidentes, Barrio Miramar, or Barrio Kolhey (where Finlay did his seminal research work on Yellow Fever in 1881). True, transportation would have been more of a challenge, but at least you would be walking through nice neighborhoods rather than fearing that a façade would collapse over you. Mind you, I have no idea if there are guest houses in those neighborhoods but I think it would be worth giving it a try.

On the other hand, Nuria was a font of very useful information about what to see and do in La Habana in particular, and Cuba in general. But before I get there, given that she was not there when I got to the house, the empleada showed me to a very comfortable room that I engaged for 35 CUC. I left my stuff in the room and took to the streets. On the way in I had mapped the neighborhood in my head, so I undid a few blocks to go visit the Universidad de La Habana, and from there drifted to the Barrio de La Rampa. I had the idea of renting a motorcycle, but my informants really had no idea where I could do that and just kept pointing me in the direction of the older big hotels. I had a seafood lunch along the way (acceptable but not great), and eventually went past a festival entitled Arte en La Rampa, and for 2 CUC’s went into a large building where they had shoes, handcrafts, a gallery of photos of Che Guevára, and a stage where young singers were presenting their songs. They were pretty good, and I must have heard their singing for nearly 2 hours. After that I went to another stage, where a band that would have made Santana proud was jamming very cool dance music. I enjoyed them for another hour, and then realized that the heat of the afternoon had abated, and that it would be a fine time to go to the malecón (the seaside promenade).

It is a fine malecón, very suitable for cruising in a pink Cadillac convertible, but it is totally devoid of shade! In Mexico the malecón would be shaded by hundreds of palms borrachas de sol, inviting the residents to go for an evening stroll, for the kids to run and play, for novios to walk holding hands and sharing kisses, and for dozens of street vendors to sell fruit, yummy tacos, popcorn, or cotton candy. Alas, not here, where the malecón is completely bare and nobody on his right mind would think on strolling along it under the sun. After a block I turned away, thinking it was time get back. I had made a long loop, and was flying by instruments, but in no time whatsoever found known landmarks. I was almost at my residence when a black couple engaged me in conversation, made big exclamations of delight on knowing I was Mexican, and insisted on showing me some cool places near my home. The places were interesting but very dingy, and when they walked me into a bar where I just had to order the best mojito n Habana I knew I had fallen for one of the oldest scams in the world. So I politely declined to order anything and said goodbye; then I got the “we are hungry and could you please buy us some milk?”, apologized for not being to help them, and walked out. Unfortunately there are dozens of these scams to help the government fleece the tourist, so I will have to be very alert.

I was a bit miffed with the world when I got home and finally met Nuria, a portly woman with a motherly disposition, who immediately welcomed me to La Habana, and set me at ease with her standard list of admonitions: “Whenever someone offers to show you around say to them ‘No, thank you. I prefer to be alone.’.” She also interrogated me about my plans, injected a good dose of reality check in them, and helped me map a good itinerary for my two weeks here (I had bought a country map, and she deftly drew a day-by-day itinerary of where to go and what to do). I believe I understand how things work here: She has a general plan, so she is going to mobilize her network of guest houses and colectivos, so a car will come to collect me in three days and drive me (and other travelers) to Viňales, for a three night stay at a guest house in her network. My Viňales host will then arrange the following colectivo to take me to Cienfuegos, and after two nights the pattern will repeat to take me to Trinidad, then to Varaderos and finally back to La Habana for one last night before Nuria’s husband drives to the airport. I am taking a leap of faith and trusting my newly-acquired travel agent! 

Latin America 2018 - Day 42. Bogotá to Cancún.

I am bored. I have tried to adapt to the life of a Bogotano by going for walks through my neighborhood, which includes a couple of parks and any number of small shops. The min avenues are crazy with traffic, but between them there are blocks of quiet residences interspersed with restaurants, pharmacies, and panaderías. The latter play a crucial role in Colombian life, because here the main meal—with soup, salad, and a meat dish—is taken between noon and 2 pm. In the evening, from 6 to 9 pm, the folks here eat the merienda, which is usually composed by sweet bread and chocolate. Last night I went for my merienda to the local panadería, where I had a delicious cup of foaming chocolate accompanied by a big butterfly coated in chocolate and colored sugar chips. Yummy.

Today in the morning I went back to the panadería, at 7 am, to have a favorite Colombian breakfast: a bowl of soup (chicken or pork riblets with potatoes or yucca) and a café con leche with a brioche. I could have also ordered a tamal, but I have been overeating for two weeks and it is time to give my tummy a rest.

By the side of the panadería, was a peluquería that had been open since 6 am, where for US$ 4 I had a hair cut and a nice conversation with the barber. Colombia has elected a new president, but he has not taken office, so the talk here is about the choices made for the cabinet members.

In four more hours I will drive to the airport, return my trusty rental car with an additional 4,000 km in the odometer, and then wait until 4 pm for my flight to Cancún, where I will arrive at 7 pm. My cousin Paty and her family will pick me at the airport, take me to their home for the night, and then deliver me back at the airport at 9 am for the next stage of my trip: Cuba!

I am not sure what my access to the internet is going to be for the next couple of weeks, so I am going to bring this blog to its end. It has been a lot of fun traveling through Latin America, saying hello to my cultural brothers and sisters. I hope the tale of my travels will trigger your curiosity and that you too will feel itchy feet and come visit.

Latin America 2018 - Day 41. Puerto Boyaca to Bogotá.

Well, it was a bit of a disappointment but the trip to Bogotá was a lot easier than I had thought. I had braced myself for spending 8 hours climbing the Cordillera Este, but after just half hour I connected with a brand new six-lane highway on which I cut the distance by half. Yes, there was a bit of a tough, trafficky climb, but that was just a couple of hours, and the rest of the trip was in a four-lane highway. Thanks to the convenient grid pattern of the city I had no problem finding the Airport Travel Inn by noon.

I had lunch at a local cocina económica, the type that city workers favor for having good food, fast service, and a low price. For US$ 4 I had a bowl of soup, salad, rice, fried plantain, yucca, two delicious ox tail pieces cooked in a yellow sauce, two glasses of pineapple water, dessert, and coffee. I definitely overate but, since I have nothing else to do, I was able to get back to my comfortable hotel and take a well-deserved siesta.

The afternoon has passed slowly, separating debris from stuff I actually have to take with me for the next stage of my trip. Unfortunately I have to leave behind travel guides, a butcher’s knife, a glass, a cup, an empty bottle of Aguardiente Antioqueňo, empty bottles of water and soda, and any number of plastic bags (I love the fact that here they give you a bag to take your purchases home).

Latin America 2018 - Day 40. Bosconia to Puerto Boyaca

Last night I slept at a very comfortable roadside hotel in Bosconia (sounds like the kind of place that Tin Tin and Miloú would have one of their adventures, doesn’t it?), and at about 8:30 am I continued on my way north for another 400 km until I reached Puerto Boyaca.

Not much to report, besides saying that it was all green beautiful sabana (a lot more fertile than the Venezuelan sabana, probably due to the annual floods and the silt they carry).

I do have a story to tell, however: The western foothills of Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta happen to be where Gabriel García Márquez located the mythical town of Macondo in Cién Aňos de Soledad. José Arcadio Buendía and his wife Ursula used to live near Riohacha, and from there they traveled west, crossing the mountains, until they found La Cienega (the floodplain of the estuary). They then decided to establish Macondo on the western foothills. Now that you have a geographic reference you might want to pick up Cién Aňos de Soledad, which I know has been in your list of books to read for many years.

Tomorrow I will make my final approach to Bogotá.  

Latin America 2018 - Day 39. The Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta

Today I drove, as far as prudence would have it, deep into the Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta. This range is short, but very high, and is a continuation of the magmatic arc. I expected to find a lot of volcanic rocks (and they may be very abundant at higher elevations), but instead found a foundation of deeply weathered intrusive rocks (DG, or decomposed granite in the parlance of geotechnical engineers). I am pretty sure that this are Mesozoic intrusions, not unlike the ones of the Sierra Nevada of California.

The call to fame of the Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta is that, starting at sea level, within a few kilometers of the coast rises to 5,775 m (18,950 ft), in the form of the Nevados Cristobal Colón and Simón Bolivar. I did not get to see them because of the cloud cover, but here is a phot from the internet to show you how pretty they are.

There are very few mountains that rise so abruptly from sea level. Let me see, we have Mauna Loa in Hawaii (4,169 m), Mount Kinabalu in Borneo (4,095 m), Mount Fuji in Japan (3,766 m), Pico del Teide in Tenerife (3,718), Mount Etna in Sicily (3,350 m), and the San Gabriel Mountains in California (3,068 m), so you can see that the Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta proudly occupies the first place among this distinguished mountainhood. Incidentally, with Santa Marta I complete my personal acquaintance with huge coastal mountains!

Once I got down I started on my way to Bogotá. I have two and a half days to get there, so I should be able to do it without any heartburn. Of course I still have to face the slow mountain roads, and probably between 10 and 20 toll stations. The toll one pays at each station is not too high (2 to 4 US dollars), but the darn things pop up every 30 to 50 km. I should have kept count of the total number of stations I passed. In total I am pretty sure it is going to be close to 40 stations.

Latin America 2018 - Day 38. The estuary of the Rio Magdalena

Today I took a leisurely drive between Cartagena and Santa Marta. One of the reasons I came all this way is because I wanted to see, first hand, the estuary of the Rio Magdalena. You might want to google a map of the rivers of Colombia to follow this discussion. Starting with just the two main rivers, Cueca and Magdalena, their approach to the ocean looks like a lower case “h”. The Cueca would be the left leg, and the Magdalena the right leg. If you follow the right leg north, it bends to the west and “captures” the Cueca before continuing on its way north, to eventually empty into the Caribbean at Barranquilla (Cartagena would be to the left of the “h” maybe were the dot of the “i” would be in the pair “ih”, and it was joined to the Magdalena through a canal dug in the 1600’s –a feat of engineering!).

Two more rivers join the Cueca and Magdalena very close to their intersection, the Sinú and the San Jorge (are you beginning to see some similarities between the Sacramento and San Joaquin joining just after the Cosumnes and the Mokelumne have joined the San Joaquin?). Like in California, the joining of four major rivers was a recipe for extensive flooding during the rainy season. Instead of foolishly calling this flooded area a “delta”, the clever Muiscas saw in the yearly flooding a way of banking this water.

Between 200 BC and 1000 AD, the inhabitants of the upper estuary dug hundreds of kilometers of canals, from 1 to 4 km in length, to “absorb” the floodwaters and store them as soil moisture for the growing of their crops during the dry season. Between the canals, which looked like the indentations of several fork pressing on a peanut butter cookie, the dirt being excavated was piled on intervening ridges, which is where the farmers lived and planted their crops. I think the following photograph is a perfect explanation of the collection of flood water by the so-called Zinú canals:

The estuary is clearly subsiding, because one can see many standing dead trees along the shoreline. As we all know trees don’t grow in water, so the fact that you see a standing dead tree tells you that the area was once above sea level.

I had lunch out there in the manglar shore: A delicious, huge, deep-fried red snapper!

An interesting featurette of the estuary is the presence of two or three active mud and silt volcanoes. The one I visited must have been a good 10 m high (about 35 ft), steep, and had a crater of about 4 m in diameter. The mud was bubbling very gently, but I was told that when the bubbling rate increases the level of the mud in the crater rises and spills over the sides, just like a lava flow. My hypothesis is that the organic-rich mud is undergoing bacterial decomposition that releases CO₂ (oh, no, CO₂!) in what those my students will recognize as the first stage of formation of petroleum, and that it is the release of this gas that has given birth to these cold mud volcanoes.

I reached Santa Marta about 2:30 pm, in perfect time for me to find a very cute and relaxed boutique hotel, bathe my toes in the Caribbean, and go for a long walk along the beach. My hotel overlooks the main Santa Marta bay, a portion of which is devoted to a commercial port. Apparently there are other adjacent bays that are a lot more quiet, but the level of night life here is just perfect as I jot down these notes.

Latin America 2018 - Day 37. Cartagena

Today I honestly earned my tourist badge, starting at 7 am. After all, I was in the famed Cartagena de Indias, one of the main ports of the flow of gold from Nueva Espaňa to Spain, and the focus of pillage and plunder by corsairs and pirates from all over the Caribbean (starting with Francis Drake in the 1580’s). There should be so much to see!

Early during my morning walk I learned that they have the Hop on – Hop off tourist bus, which I of course booked on the spot, ready to take the first bus, starting at 9 am. The first few stops covered some of the outer fortifications of the old town, and of a nearby island that has now been attached to the mainland by bridges.

From there we went to the Castillo de San Felipe, where I got down to spend an hour and a half touring one of thee best preserved, and most sophisticated, forts of Nueva Espaňa. It was the time of brute force protection, and it was very successful during the 17^th and 18^th centuries to repel the attacks of the English and the French. Unfortunately it didn’t work against the throne of Spain after Cartagena declared its independence on 11/11/1811 (the independence date of Colombia is normally attributed to 1810, but the Cartagenos choose to celebrate their own declaration of independence in 1811). The Spanish Pacificador knew all to well that the Castillo de San Felipe was impregnable, so instead he set siege to the city, which only capitulated four months later, after half of the inhabitants had died of starvation. The city was left a wreck, and was further inflicted a blow with a cholera epidemic in the 1850’s. From there on they seem to have been afflicted by bad luck, while the nearby city of Barranquilla won every contract for development money. It is really not until the 1970’s that Colombians discovered the touristic value of the city, and for the last 30 years the city has gained on value to become the jewel that it is today.

Cartagena’s history has its dark side: From the late 16^th century to the early 19^th century it was the prime market for the slave trade. It is here that the slave ships first touched the Spanish territories in the New World, and a large proportion of the African slaves were torn apart from their families here to go work for the Spanish landlords. As a result of the high influx of Africans modern Colombia has a large population of African-Americans, mulattoes, and ladinos. The good news is that, given that most Columbians have at least of African blood in their veins they all get along pretty well.

An unexpected event associated to the slave trade was the arrival to Cartagena of an African black bird, which had traveled as a stowaway in the slaver ships. This bird flourished in coastal Colombia, and is today known as Negra María Lucía.

My next stage in the tourist bus was a drive through New Miami, an incredible touristic development on Boca Grande bay-mouth sand bar attached to the old town. Not my scene, but I can see that this conglomerate of new, high-rise hotels is meant to challenge touristic meccas such as Rio or the Riviera Maya. Cartagena used to be a bay with an islet smack in the middle of its mouth. Beach sand drift eventually created bay-mouth sand bars on both sides of the islet, which were respectively called Boca Grande and Boca Chica. For defense purposes the Spaniards blocked the tidal inlet of Boca Grande, so access to the bay was reduced to the narrow inlet of Boca Chica, which was easier to defend. The sea eventually opened Boca Grande, but a clever military engineer constructed a submerged dam across the opening, so only shallow draft boats could go in an out, but not the deeper draft Man-o-War frigates.

Once back in the old part of town I spent three glorious hours visiting the Maritime Museum. A lot of the museum was devoted to the many fleets that attacked the city, some with success and some others repelled by the defenders of the city. It gave me much admiration for the grit that the Cartagenos have displayed over four centuries of history. The modern history centers on the unique fact that Colombia is the only South American nation that has both Pacific and Atlantic (Caribbean) coasts, and as such has realized that it has to develop its maritime industry. I have long argued that Mexico has squandered its own two-oceans uniqueness, and I hope that one of these days we will also realized that we need to develop our maritime industry.

My Hop on – Hop off tour included a walking tour through the old town, which I enjoyed enormously. We heard about the legends associated to many of the lovely plazas, streets, and parks of the city. We also visited the Gold Museum (not as rich as the one in Bogotá, but very fine indeed), and an Emerald Museum sponsored by a jewelry store. I finished by having a very nice dinner of sancocho de mondongo. Not as good as the Mexican menudo, or the Spanish callos, but pretty good nonetheless.

One of the highlights of the walking tour was a stop in the Plaza de Santo Domingo, where a statue of La Voluptuosa (aka as la Gorda de Botero) is on display. According to the guide, Botero has explained that he doesn’t paint or sculpt fat people, but rather that he uses the volume he needs to convey the form of his subjects. I happen to think it is an attractive Venus, so I have bought a small replica, in the hope that it will survive the long trip back home.

Latin America 2018 - Day 36. Yarumal to Cartagena

The early bird does get the worm! I knew I had a hard driving day ahead of me, so I started at 6:30 am. The road was empty, but I figured the trucks would start appearing any time now. A few kilometers down the road, however, I found a police barrier that was holding back the big trucks, while me and my little car were given the go ahead. It was magnificent. The drop in elevation was very substantial, and I was in one of the windiest roads ever, but I was able to make down the 150 kilometers to the lowlands in about 2 hours, because for once I did not have to deal with truck traffic. Yeah!

Once in the lowlands I made good time to the city of Montería, which has a very nice river walk along the Rio Sinú with kids playgrounds, flowers, exercise areas, boat rides, and a goodly number of iguanas and monkeys.

From Montería to Cartagena I followed the estuary of the Rios Sinú, San Jorge, and Magdalena, going over terrain that reminded me very much of the Sacramento-San Joaquin estuary. It was lovely, but again slow going because of the narrow levee roads and the large number of pesky motorcycles. I shouldn’t say this, since I enjoy motorcycling myself, but here motorcycles like to ride side by side with the cars, which eventually adds 30 to 50% to the width of your car, and you have to take that extra width when you are passing other vehicles.

Finally, at dusk, I made it to the city of Cartagena, a city loaded with history and colonial monuments. I managed to work my way to the Centro Historico fairly well (although at one point I had to run a short stretch against traffic to keep from being deflected), but once in the old town I got hopelessly lost. The old downtown is very much like being in the French Quartier in New Orleans, with millions of tourists crawling through the narrow streets to enjoy a vibrant nightlife and dozens and dozens of restaurants. Unfortunately many of the roads were closed, and others were the privilege of the horse-drawn carriages, so car traffic is impossible. Eventually I got close enough to my hotel, parked, and reached my destination on foot. The hotel does have parking, so after getting settled I went to fetch my little car and am now comfortably ensconced in my new abode.  

Latin America 2018 - Day 35. A big screw up ☹

Grrr, I am crabby. Thanks to the lack of signaling in the roads (or the cities for that matter) I was funneled into the wrong road, and ended running 150 km in, and a 150 km out, and wasted nearly 6 hours in these shenanigans.

To start at the beginning, I left Medellín at about 8 am following the Highway of the East, which started as a great four-lane road that plunged down from the highlands down to the coffee altitudes. Then, in the middle of nowhere there was a traffic circle and the four-lane road went down to two narrow lanes of a very windy mountain road (the traffic circle trick is, alas, oh so common here). The problem with these roads is that very often you get stuck behind a sloooow heavy truck, and then you have to gamble with your life to pass, over and over again. Average speed, even for a dare devil like me is no better than 50 km per hour. Incidentally, meeting long trucks in hairpin turns is very dangerous for short vehicles like mine because the long bed cuts across the curve, and if you are not carefully it can crunch you like a nut. In one instance I had to break abruptly and engage the reverse in a hurry to pullout of the nutcracker trap!

I went on for about three hours to Puerto Berrio, and it was not until I saw the bridge over the Rio Magdalena that I realized I had been going in the wrong direction. I stopped to have lunch, and with the help of the waiter evaluated my options: go back and take “the road over the mountain after Barbosa”, or keep going for another 4 hours to Bucaramanga, and from there try to reach Cartagena. I decided to go back.

It was many kilometers past Barbosa, already in the four-lane road, when I saw an inconspicuous offramp to Don Pedro.  Hmm . . . no Don Pedro in my map, but the road appeared to go in the right direction. So I took it, and in about 5 km I saw another sign for “Atlantic Coast”. OK, that would be where I would like to go, so I kept going, this time climbing and climbing another super twisty road. I felt the road was never going to end, and was a bit apprehensive on what the way down was going to look like (more about that on tomorrow’s blog). Surprisingly, on top I found a bit of Switzerland, with rolling hills covered by the greenest of grasses, and a perfect pastoral scene with herds of happy Holstein cows lowing on their way back to their barns.

I had wasted the best part of the day, but resisted the temptation to try to make up for the lost time, and at about 6 pm found myself a small hotel for the night in the mountain town of Yarumal. For the record, I had an excellent dinner of beef tongue, cooked in a tomato sauce and accompanied by soup, salad, rice, and fried plantains. 

Latin America 2018 - Day 34. Medellín

I just couldn’t. I just couldn’t stomach the idea of driving into Medellín. So after a nice breakfast in my four stars hotel I walked down a couple of blocks and took a minibus to the metro, and from there took the metro to the downtown area. A nice lady guided my steps to downtown proper, where I started by visiting the Cathedral (a monstrosity in brick if you ask me). 9 am is not the best time for tourism, but I found an open travel agent and she very kindly pointed me to the Touribus, a few blocks away. I had an hour to kill, which I used to walk through the Parque Botero. Yes, this is the same Botero as in Bogotá; the one with the fat people. True to form, throughout the park there are 14 famous statues of fat people, horses, dogs, and cats. The Medellínos love these fat statues, and appointments are often done to meet “En el Parque Botero, en la estatua de la Venus gorda”. The park merges laterally with the Paseo Carabobo, a nice pedestrian commercial street.

My Touribus arrived promptly at 10 am, and I basically spent the whole day with driver Henry and tour guide Shelly. Besides the ongoing commentary as we drove around we also made a few stops, where the bus would wait for 15 to 30 minutes, to give the tourists the chance to walk around and take photos.

Our first stop was at El Parque de Los Deseos, where the city has built a planetarium, a music center, and very cool outside acoustic shells (the type you can whisper at one of the shells and be understood 30 m away by someone in front of a second shell), a very clever and complicated sun dial, a skate park, an outdoor space with dancing fountains for the kids to play in, a giant outdoor projection screen, and all sorts of gently sloping surfaces to encourage the people to lay down, look at the stars, and dream.

Another cool stop was at El Parque de los Pies Descalzos, where visitors are invited to ditch their shoes and walk on different “textures”, like grass, sand, gravel, and water (I remember something similar in Taiwan, and can tell you that walking on gravel is painful). I later returned to this park, because it also had the Museo del Agua, which I wanted to see (but it was on the minus side of cool, so I will not torture you with its description).

Lunch was at the Cerro Nutibara, where there was a statue to Cacique Nutibara, who fought the Spanish invaders, a superb observation platform from which we had great views of the city, and the reproduction of a Pueblo Paisa. Paisa is short for Paisano, and the folks from the Department of Antioquia like to be considered Paisanos. In Mexico a paisano would be a country bumpkin, but here the Paisano is considered a tough, self-reliant, hard-working person. The Pueblo Paisa reconstructs the plaza, church, and a few homes of a pueblo that was inundated in the recent construction of a dam. Consider it mitigation of an unavoidable cultural resource.

Shelly also told us that next month they will be celebrating the Fair of the Silleteros, and that this event has been considered an intangible patrimony of humanity. Way back in time, wealthy travelers that wanted to reach Medellín were carried sitting on a chair, or silla, hefted on the back of a silletero. Eventually carriages took the people, but the silletero continued using his silla to carry merchandise from market to market. The most prominent were those who brought flowers from deep in the valleys, so to this day there is a time in August when many different community or business groups sponsor a silla de flóres to add to the color and gaiety of the fair.

Eventually I exhausted the views of the city, and to the great alarm of the people I asked walked five blocks to the metro, took a bus back to the highlands, and arrived home in good time to write this entry, have a drink, and plop in front of the TV to see an action movie. I am now reconciled with the city of Medellín.

Latin America 2018 - Day 33. Cali – Medellín

I left for Medellín at about 8 am, with the idea I could get there by 4 pm. I had an idea that there was a route connecting Cali and Medellín, but to my great disappointment found that I was going to have to go back over my own tracks back to Pereira (a  city I found difficult to navigate). The road was beautiful, but I still had the grumpy feeling that this was a movie I had already seen.

Once in Pereira I got lost, and wasted a good hour untangling myself from the rat’s nest they call daowntown here. I am not given to belly aching, but I would like to lodge a complaint with the Colombian people about the lack of road signs. There has to be a goodly number of people trying to get to Medellín, Colombia’s second largest city, and it would be to everybody’s advantage to route those people out of their precious city.

Finally, at about noon, I was on the straight and narrow (very narrow) road to Medellín. This has to be the second most important route in the country, and by following the lower reaches of the Rio Cueca it is fairly straight, but it is plagued by landslides (shales and sandstones of the forearc basin as far as I could tell), so the going was extremely slow. Then, at about 60 km from Medellín the road starts climbing and climbing, in the slowest, windingnest, and traffic-chocked road you can possibly think of. Think the carretera libre to Cuernavaca compounded with the carretera libre to Puebla, and you will get a pale idea of what I was facing. Really? This is the main access to Colombia’s second largest city? Really?

I finally reached Medellín at about 7 pm. From the vantage point of a tired tourist it looked steep, enormous, and with crazy traffic. I had downloaded a map of the hotel I was shooting for, but the reality on the ground, in the dark of the night, and with crazy traffic coming against me (and no road signs) was grim. My guardian angel worked twice as hard, and with the helpful hints of a couple of taxi drivers I finally made it to my swanky hotel, high in the hills overlooking Medellín.

I am not sure tomorrow I will have the courage to take my little car into Medellín proper.