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!
No comments:
Post a Comment