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.
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