Our bus arrived into the capital, San Salvador. We took a taxi straight away out of there to Sunzal, near La Libertad on the coast. We got dropped off at the Surfer’s Inn, where we were very warmly greeted by Antonio and his wife. For $6 each we got a simple but large private room. This became our new home for the next 2 weeks. It was just a 5 minute walk to the rocky beach with the main point break. We hired surfboards and went out almost every day. The almost was because of some huge waves for a couple of days, up to an estimated 12 foot. That wasn’t enough to stop Joz going for a paddle though. It was generally good, particularly in the mornings before the wind chopped it up, but the weekends were too crowded and I could hardly catch a wave.
Breakfast consisted of a fresh mango or two fallen from the trees at the hostel. Most often we would visit the local restaurant for lunch and dinner. Plate of the day was $2.50 or $3 for lunch and papusas for dinner at 3 for $1 would cost us $1.50 each. With beers varying from $1 to $1.50 this was the cheapest country of the trip so far. We did extend our budget sometimes including the worlds best ceviche – mixed seafood in lime juice, this one served on a bed of watermelon.
All sound pretty good so far? That’s because I didn’t mention the heat, humidity and mosquitoes. The first night we were there we were drinking a beer at Balsamo, the neighbouring hostel, which actually became quite a regular event, it was 30 degrees and very sticky at 21.00. Our room would get quite hot, but with no fly wire on the windows we had to keep them closed and rely on the fan to survive. Even during the day and afternoon we would have to retreat to the hot room to escape the relentless mozzies. A swim in the ocean was not at all refreshing as the water is so warm. Similarly, there was no such thing as a cold shower.
After our 2 weeks of fun we ventured along Ruta de las flores (Route of the flowers) to Juayua (pronounced Huayuuua, or nobody will understand you!). This is a nice little town which has a big food festival every weekend and is very popular for Salvadorian tourists. I heard a rumour that it was possible to eat guinea pig. With my phrasebook in hand I went in search. Nobody understood me, so I had to resort to gestures along with ‘like a rabbit but smaller’ in Spanish. I was soon directed to a stall and told to ask for ‘rana’. Turns out it wasn’t guinea pig, but I saved myself a trip to France…
Not just the legs, the whole frog! No, it doesn’t taste like chicken, not much flavour at all, but quite chewy.
We went with the guide from the hostel for a short hike just out of town to see the waterfalls, also very popular with the Salvadorian tourists. They were pretty cool, but the best bit is the tunnels linking them up. You can float through with the flow of the water in complete darkness, avoiding protruding rocks, with just enough room to keep your mouth above the water. The pools and tunnels were built to direct water to a hydro electric power plant. If you take a wrong turn you can end up as energy!
After a few beers, our pleasant time in El Salvador had come to an end.
Obviously the next logical step after Cuba is Nicaragua. Dasha and I flew into Managua, jumped on the internet at the airport and started doing some research about the place. We read lots of warnings about how dangerous the country is and particularly not to share taxis with other people – ok, that’s good to know. Our search for cheap accommodation was not going well. The information desk didn’t speak English, but much worse than that, they didn’t have any information! A taxi driver was paying me plenty of attention so I thought I would see if he could be of any assistance. Eventually information found me a phone number for the hostel I wanted to stay at. I called them, they had plenty of space and our mate the taxi driver drove us there. Nice place with a kitchen, swimming pool and wifi – back in civilisation! We walked down to the food court. It was horrible. Full of every American franchise you could imagine. I can’t believe the atrocious effect America has on surrounding countries who imagine one day living the American dream.
The next day we spent almost all day by the pool catching up on hundreds of emails and the like. The remaining portion of the day we spent in the pool, at the supermarket or in the kitchen making the world’s most delicious fresh salad sandwiches and vego pasta – so, so good after a month in Cuba. We had a few beers locally with a couple of Canadian dudes we met, but didn’t find too much action. Managua’s not a place that you can safely go wondering around anywhere you want, so really need taxi’s to cross town.
The next day, a taxi to the bus station, straight on to a bus to Rivas, 20 min wait and on to the next bus to San Juan Del Sur. Found ourselves accommodation 20m from the bus stop and after a few hours found my brother, Jozza!! Beer beer beer happy happy happy!
San Juan is a very touristy (mainly Americans) town on the beach. One of the main reasons for coming here is to surf, but the surf beaches are a short drive, or long bicycle ride as it was for us, away. We were looking for accommodation for a month, but with Semana Santa, or Easter Week, approaching everything was booked out. Apparently the town goes from 20,000 to 200,000 people for the busiest weekend. We hopped in a cab and went to El Gigante, following some advice of locals and the internet. We stayed one night in this small, quiet town to check out the area. It was a 15 min walk to the first surf beach, Amarillo. Another decent hike along the beach and around the point and we arrived to Colorados, the main break in the area. Here there were a few big fancy houses on the beach. We saw a few people sitting on their front fence and went for a chat, to see if they knew of any accommodation available. Turns out Seth and Lindsay were managing a few houses and had just one left. We went and checked out the two storey townhouse overlooking the golf course. By our standards, it was quite luxurious, yet surprisingly affordable. With only a 5 min walk to the closest beach, Panga Drops, we took it immediately.
This was our new home for the next month. It’s part of the Hacienda Iguana golf and surf resort. There‘s really nothing around, no shops or supermarkets, only two choices of quite uninspiring restaurants and a few friendly neighbours. There’s constant security, the head of which is a reptilian type character by the name of Eric Phillips, who has been known to eat small animals if they cross his path.
We spent the entire month surfing once or twice a day as we felt necessary with the boards we hired. We spent most of our time at Panga Drops – not the easiest wave for beginners, but we gave it our best crack. Jozza spent a bit more time at Colarados and was super stoked to get into a few barrels.
We only had a few days each without surf. Mine was after copping a fin to the face and splitting my nose open to the bone (or is actually cartilage?). The very next day I was feeling pretty crook and actually collapsed on the beach, apparently due to food poisoning. I’ve only felt similar to that once before – the first day of this trip at the airport in Melbourne. I also missed one day due to a severe hangover the day after my birthday. I thought that was reasonable. Dasha kept smacking herself in the nose with her board, but I think the only thing that kept her out of the water was her strained ribs. Joz had just a couple of days off due to a cut on his leg. It seemed like pretty much every day one of us was hurting ourselves somehow.
I mentioned that this was a very remote place. Most of the time we were lucky enough to get a ride with a neighbour in to town to do our grocery shopping. Without this help it would be very difficult, especially for the large quantities of beer required. One morning I went on a mission to Rivas using the public transport. It was a 50 minute walk to the front gate, which I timed very well – the next bus (big old yellow American school bus that you see in all the movies), which only run every two hours, was there within a minute. It was already quite full as I climbed in the back door. There were still some women with bags waiting to get on, so I got out to make room and climbed up the ladder and onto the roof with a few of the locals. The whole journey we were ducking and weaving to avoid trees. At one point a monkey howled loudly at us as we drove directly underneath him, only a couple of metres away. After about an hour we arrived in Tola, a small village. Here we all had to get off. The bus drove around the corner and parked again to pick up more passengers. It was very confusing. The bus was totally packed and I had to stand there and watch it drive away with locals barely hanging on to the bars on the back of the bus – crazy buggers. Everyone else who didn’t get on were waiting for communal taxis. After maybe 15 minutes another bus turned up and we all piled on. Surprisingly, I was back on the roof. I think it was another 40 minutes and I finally made it to Rivas. Close to 3 hours for about 30km.
Surf by day, beer by night and next thing a whole month is gone. We all progressed with our surfing, but still have a lot of work to do. We called in to Granada for a night on our way back to Managua. It was nothing special, but much more comfortable and relaxing than Managua.
While in Managua, I got to have a day trip to visit my World Vision sponsor child. What a brilliant day! I caught a taxi to the office and met Odeir there. We drove down to the Masaya office where we met Carlos, his Aunty (Arlin?) and her son Cristian. We went to Carlos’ school which was incredible. Carlos took me by the hand and led me into his classroom – he was the king, showing off his gringo donor.
Then we had a full school assembly, opening with prayer and the national anthem, then followed by dancing and singing performed by some of the secondary students on the stage in front of the welcoming banner and balloons that had been set up for me.
Carlos took control of the photography for me, taking about 180 photos. There was speeches by the principal, parents committee and a community leader. It was amazing how genuinely grateful everyone was for my support. Even though I was the first ever donor to visit this community, I had no doubt that they knew the money was coming from real people, not just some imaginary endless foreign fund. I received a certificate of appreciation and a gift and then had to make a speech myself. This was followed by a tour of the arts section. Apparently government schools don’t have these kind of facilities and materials. And all of the students choose to take these courses as extra curricula activities outside of normal class times. Everyone was very proud of what they had, so nice to see. We sat in the computer room for a bit of a chat with the principal, community leaders and world vision staff and facilitators. The sincerity shone through. After that it was off to a restaurant with una buena vista. Then it was time for farewells. Arlin was also very grateful for the visit. It was a shame I couldn’t meet Carlos’ mother, but she had to work. Carlos was of course very shy at the start of the day but I scored a big hug at the end of it. He looked so funny with his new oversized Essendon jacket on clinging to his frisbee.The only big shame for the whole day was that my Spanish is so poor. Maybe again in 5 years time….
From Managua Joz and I shot up to Leon. It’s the country’s second largest city, but much more vibrant and flowing than Managua. The highlight here was our trip to an active volcano. We didn’t get to see any lava, just a bit of stinky steam and smoke. But the entire outside of the mountain is covered in volcanic rock, on one particular side, about the size of gravel. This makes it possible to slide down on a sled, or bum board, at potentially high speeds.
Yes, very fast, but I didn’t break the mens record of 84km/h, or the womens, 87km/h! But when I got off at the bottom I was shaking, adrenalin pumping. A few mojitos and I was back on the level. Luckily, because we had to focus on the mission at hand. Our bus was departing at stupid o’clock, so we had to push through. Along with some new friends, we found a reggae bar for some beers, then followed it up with a late night venue, which was surprisingly, yet not disappointingly, empty. We left there at 3, finished packing our bags and wandered up the road for a taxi, which luckily was there within a few minutes. We were at our bus stop (petrol station) by 3.30 for our 4.00 bus as required. There weren’t any other passengers waiting with us, but there were quite a few locals hanging around boozing, in a few different groups. A little bit of a sketchy place to be hanging out, especially in a Central American country! Joz just started playing his guitar and trying to make friends with everyone, with the theory that if one group started hassling us someone else would stick up for us. The petrol station sold beer which was handy. It got to 5, still no bus, starting to worry. A dude told us we could go with him at 8 for free…. maybe, we said. Joz had a girl doing a bit of a pole dance for him in the petrol station while he was buying beer. All a bit random really. We asked the staff at the petrol station, they said the bus is often an hour late, but never 2. It was after 6 by the time it came. Pretty glad to get out of there and farewell our cocaine sniffing ‘brother’.
I think that’s the first time I have ever slept through an entire country – Honduras. And so we made it to El Salvador.
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What not to do after spending 6 weeks in Jamaica surrounded by locals and backpackers smoking weed: forget to wash your socks.
I arrived into Santiago de Cuba. Things were good. There was a lot of security and customs officers, asking the same questions, which I had all of the answers for. I got all the way through to baggage claim, was excited to have a beer with my new local friend Timmy, when customs decided to search the single male clean shaven freshly washed hair good looking tourist arriving from the world’s most renown marijuana smoking country. Of course this didn’t bother me, as I don’t smoke. This guy was very thorough though, making me empty out every single item out of both of my bags. He was searching little hiding places I didn’t know I had and finding little pieces of bark and sand and dirt and who knows what from the inside of seams which has been there forever and a day. He was testing little bits that he particularly liked by adding a couple of drops from 3 different bottles. They all turned yellow and no one seemed to mind. Then, when he picked a piece off my smelly socks and it turned red, I got a little worried. He tested quite a few pieces off this one pair of socks and about 4 or 5 turned red. I was becoming a little more worried. I didn’t think it would be that big of a deal though, since they didn’t find any real quantities, and it was only one pair of socks, and one piece from a shirt that was next to them. So how big of a deal was it??? After 2 hours of having absolutely everything unpacked and repacked, the result was a $110 fine. I asked if I could call my embassy, he said, ‘sure, there’s a payphone outside’. I didn’t have any money or the phone number so I just ran with it. All of it was done with proper paperwork and a whole heap of stamping and carbon copies and more stamping and signatures, so it was legit. I was feeling pretty average, mainly disappointed with my own naive carefreeness, when I found a taxi driver with an awesome Ford 57 (according to the sticker on the windscreen). He drove me to the bus station via a bar, a tourist restaurant and a local restaurant. It’s not often you get to shout your taxi driver dinner and a beer!
People are strange, when you’re a stranger.
Cuba is a very unique country. I really can’t get my head around how things operate. It’s a communist country, yet that seems to have very little impact on the every day backpacker. Taxi drivers still hassle you everywhere you walk and try to rip you off. Hustlers pounce on you as soon as you get off an inter-city bus, before you can even get your bags. Prices for accommodation and even restaurants have to be negotiated. And of course tourists love horse rides (we met a guy that paid $40, while we paid 4 cents each as part of the public transport system).
Then you’ve got the Casas Particulares. This is the most common form of accommodation for the budget traveller, the only option other than hotels (which are apparently very poor quality anyway) or free camping. The idea is that you are staying with a family, but unfortunately, in our opinion, you get treated more like a hotel guest – of course you have a private bedroom (and often bathroom), but if you choose to pay extra for dinner, you are waited upon like you’re in a restaurant, rather than having a family dinner, and are served up excessive quantities of food, which you feel some obligation to attempt to eat. They generally charge $20 or $25 including breakfast. At first this seems like an excellent income for the family, but they have to pay the government $200 per month, plus 20% tax on any profit. It’s far from easy. Also no wonder they try hard to sell you dinner for 6 or 8 bucks each, which won’t get taxed at all. When it comes to meal time, either lunch or dinner, everybody is certain that all tourists love to eat excessive quantities, especially seafood and even more particularly lobster (although its actually crayfish). Our first experience of the lobster was fantastic. We had been chatting with our Couch Surfing mate David, drinking his cocktails, and mentioned that Dasha had never tried lobster and I very rarely. The next evening when we called in for a cheeky cocktail, he brought out a massive platter – 5 grilled lobster tails on top of a salad (they don’t bother eating the rest of the animal). It was nothing short of brilliant.
It seems that I may be making somewhat of a habit of seeing the coolest thing on the last day. I wanted to buy dominoes, and surprisingly that was very hard. We met a dude willing to sell his personal Bucanero set, which sounded perfect since Bucanero was my beer of choice during my 3 weeks. We went for a stroll in the evening to find his apartment. This entire block was incredible! In a city that is relatively flat, there is some kind of… might have to ask my geologist friends out there, but perhaps a sink hole? So the top of all of the buildings are at the same level as the rest of the suburb, and from the street there is absolutely no way of telling that there is anything special here, but there’s an extra 3 stories below street level, built in this hole, with natural rock faces visible around the perimeter. It was a shame we didn’t get to go there during the day time for a photo session. It was actually quite a surreal and little bit spooky place in the evening. If you want to find it, you’ll have to stay with Ernesto.
Entonces, after a long ride on the bus, we finally got to Cienfuegos. At the bus station, people started jumping on us offering accommodation straight away, they would push and drag you by the hand, even though you are trying to get your luggage off the bus. After questioning what were the prices around this town, I called the number of a recommended casa and made a deal to stay there cheap. I wouldn’t recommend staying at any recommended casas – if you shop around you can find really nice casas, for a good price and with good friendly people. The place we stayed at was ok, but nothing to brag about.
The city itself is really pretty and clean. It has a strong European feel to it. It’s nice and there are plenty of places to eat or have a drink, but except for that there isn’t much to do. Every day we were there we were so tired, we didn’t check out the night life, but LP promises it to be good. We went to the very south of the city, where most of the houses overlook the bay, which isn’t that pretty to be honest. Most of the casas there are a lot more expensive and fancy. We found a yacht club, where we tried to meet some sailors, since we didn’t have flights out of Cuba – why not try to sail away? We didn’t see many people there except for the massive group of Indian students who were celebrating something, possibly medical graduation – pretty spectacular…and we met our kiwi friends, Adam and Sophie, who were our travel companions for the rest of our stay and taught us a great card game – dirty bird. 
That night we had a few drinks and on the way home decided to call into a local beer hole for a cheeky last beer. That’s where we made friends with one cunning Cuban who was trying to get me to marry him first for $5000, then the price went down to $500. Curly didn’t manage to get rid of me that night!…
After enjoying a special vibe in Cienfuegos, we decided not to waist our time here anymore and move on to Trinidad. We got met at the bus station by casa hustlers and after making a pretty good deal went with them. The city of Trinidad is second popular for tourists after Havana. It is a very photogenic and colourful city. A lot of very beautiful craftsmanship is being sold on the streets. Lots of old fancy cars and even people are posing for you to take a good shot. Similar to Cienfuegos, there isn’t much to do except for eat and drink, but just outside the city there is a famous beach Playa Ancon. We went there for a day. Absolutely incredibly nothing special worth mentioning. Just a beach with relatively white sand and blue water. Zero visibility for snorkelling.
We had a good time with our new friends, just chilling and enjoying mojitos and a live gig of salsa on the main square, but it’s time to move on and we went to Playa Larga for some more beach times.
In Playa Larga we found ourselves a casa and spent a whole day diving in the bay of pigs, which was excellent. Me and Curly went for a cave dive, which is a very different experience from any other dive I have ever done. The underwater cave was quite deep and completely dark. It is a little bit disorientating to go with a torch, but eventually body and eyes adjust. After the cave we went out in the bay, because we had a lot of air left. The bay is very nice there, a lot of coral and fish, which we got to feed bread to, which became an awesome frenzy, with some fish eating right out of our hands.
Next day by the recommendation of Lonely Planet we went to Caleta Buena, where snorkelling promised to be good, but the main thing was a 14CUC entry into an all inclusive resort kind of thing. So it was a little bit of snorkelling (which was average) and a lot of eating and drinking. Especially drinking. On the way there our guagua went on the road smashing thousands of crabs. Poor things have one or two days a year, when they come out from the woods down to the beach to mate (lay eggs?) and a lot of them just hang out on the road for some reason, obviously getting smashed by fast going cars and buses. Crazy amounts of crabs – such a pity!
Anyhow by the time we got back home our boys were in a pretty ‘good’ condition. Then it started to rain, then we started to dance and run around the village in our swim wear, that way we made friends with our neighbours and other locals. Curly was trying to steal a bicitaxi, for that he got punished and the owner made him pedal to the next village to get some more ron. Fun times…
Next day our kiwi friends left for Havana and we caught up with them the day after. Couple more days we stayed with Ernesto and then early morning flight to…Nicaragua!
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Thanks to everyone, who has been following our adventures! The “old” friends are greatly missed.
We left Vinales in a collective (shared taxi) to get to Pinar Del Rio, where we stayed with David’s family on a tobacco farm. It was quite a unique experience and I don’t think many tourists get to stay on a proper Cuban farm. The experience would have been a lot better, in my opinion, if we knew Spanish at least a tiny bit better. Maybe we would have even been able to do some work at the farm, but ah well..It’s hard enough to understand people speaking fast, left alone country people speaking in their own accent/way. Nevertheless, it was super sweet and lovely. The first day we spent just wondering around the farm and trying to save a little chicken, but he died…We’ve seen piglets and bulls, roosters and chicks and how Cuban’s spend their day working in the field.
The next day we packed two smaller backpacks and went out for an adventure- get to Maria La Gorda. Transportation that way is quite limited and expensive, so after a chat with one of the taxi drivers he convinced us to go to a beach in his cool car, where all the locals normally go for their holidays- Playa Bailen. Unfortunately the season was wrong, so we didn’t see any locals on their vacation nor did we enjoy a swim, because the water looked mirky and not very appealing.
Angry at the taxi driver for giving us bad advice, we decided to make our own way down to Maria La Gorda. The day started at 6 to catch a local guagua (bus), that was crammed with laughing people (yes even at 6 in the morning, when it’s still dark!) to the next town, from there we were supposed to catch a collectivo (communal taxi) to the closest town to the national park and then another guagua. The collectivo driver (who was an absolute jerk), proposed to take us all the way down to Maria for $50…after some negotiating he said yes to $20. Then he took us to a shitty little town in the middle of nowhere and pretended we never made a deal. We were trying to argue with him, the people gathered around, supporting the cheating taxi driver and saying that there is no way we can get to Maria la Gorda, because there is no traffic (even though it was 9 a.m.) and that $50 is cheap. *&*k that! -we said…and started hitch hiking. Some times were really frustrating for me in Cuba. Some people were very unhelpful and all they could see in us was $dinero$. Surprising how much solidarity they can have for their comrades, who are trying to rip someone off, even though they are not making any profit themselves. So, so unfriendly and mercantile… Nevertheless, with the help of a policeman, who was hitch hiking the same way as us (every second day to work!!!), we got to a town on the coast named La Bajada…and here our paradise experience began.
We knew that there is at least one unofficial casa in town and it’s only 14km away from Maria, where there is a hotel ($70 a night) and dive centre. So after half a day hitch hiking we headed straight for the beach, which was gorgeous.
Not sandy white, but coral white. Crystal clear waters, where coral reefs start right there at the first step into the water, which means lots of sea urchins on rocks… Mask and snorkel out, Dasha in the water. There is plenty to see, especially if you go out quite far off the coast. Nice coral tube like formations. After I got out, we met a local who was snorkelling around in search of lobsters. He showed us where to get in the water to avoid sea urchins and where he was looking for lobster. So Curly found one. Right there, in chest high waters. We had a chat to that guy and he offered us a casa for 15 with breakfast, we couldn’t say no, contemplating on what we’re going to have for dinner… The whole town is stretched along the beach and our house was one of them. The owner of the house is El Flaco (The skinny dude) – legendary host. He came around every now and then to find out how we’re doing. He would play us guitar and even teach me how to play the famous ‘Guantanamera’. We were singing and dancing and drinking. Fun fun fun! His sister and her husband were cooking for us and this was one of the highlights in my opinion. Fresh fish in garlic sauce, lobster, rice with beans…yum yum yum!…
Next day we rented bici’s for 3CUC and went for a ride to Maria La Gorda. The ride is amazing itself. The road stretches along 14km of white coral/sand beaches, green dunes and national park with amazing bird life on the other side. It took us longer than we thought to get to Maria, but only because we couldn’t resist stopping at one of the secluded beaches for a quick snorkel.
Maria La Gorda is basically a big resort with two restaurants. Nothing else. Just tourists, but we came here not to speak Deutsch, but to go diving. It is worth it and I highly recommend diving here. So, so beautiful! Many caves to go through, a lot of coral and lots of fish. Luckily one of the dive guides was studying in Ukraine, so after a short Russian chit chat we got ourselves a discount for a second dive- sweet! I would come back for more, but we didn’t have much time and if we knew how good La Bajada is, we would definitely skip Playa Bailen to go straight there, but ah well… On the way back from Maria, we made a couple more stops on the dream beaches and had some more great snorkelling and swimming sessions. The next day El Flaco took us with him looking for lobster. We had to get pretty far out and dive really deep to peek under the coral if somebody is hiding there…Somebody is, for sure. I found an enormous Moray eel. When I saw him I screamed out loud under the water, which almost cost me my life, because it was so deep. Not really. …but it was scary. El Flaco is a great diver and does it so easily and graciously. Sometimes they go out on the boat and dive down to 15m or so to get some big fellows. Hard and dangerous work. We didn’t find any lobsters, but I was lucky to see a natural pool in the cliffs, which has a connection underwater to the sea. It was full of fish.
After 3 days in this paradise we had to get back to our hosts in Pinar and continue on our journey exploring Cuba. It was hard to say goodbye. I would love to stay here for the whole week.
Other pictures are here.
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Next day we woke up after 2 hours nap to catch a morning bus to Vinales. Arriving at the bus station 40 min before the buses scheduled departure, we got stuck in a queue to buy tickets for our touristy expensive bus waiting for locals to buy tickets for their locals bus. By the time we reached the cashier, she spontaneously stood up and went away to solve another passenger’s problem. 20 min until bus…15…10 min…She returns just to let us know that there are no more seats on the bus…Very rudely. What a b…! Never mind, we went out of the station, found two germans and caught a taxi for 2 cuc more and got there at least an hour before our full bus got there, which gave us more time and opportunities to shop around for a casa. Our casa in Vinales cost us 20 cuc per night for a room. The cassa owner would advertise it as a very friendly place with a pool, where you cn relax in hot weather. Sure thing you can, but it doesn’t mean the pool will save you from the heat, since there is no water in it. Eventually the pool would get filled with dodgy soapy non transparent water. Not very inviting. Anyhow, we didn’t have much time for a leisurely sit in a pool, because beautiful Vinales waited to be explored.
On the day of arrival we didn’t do much, because we were pretty tired after a pretty active previous night. So we strolled up and down the main street, checking out local peso pizzas, local people and other casas for comparison. Nothing exciting, except for an enormous amount of rocking chairs that Vinales town posseses and an enormous amount of tourists. The pizzas turned out quite bad and Vinales didn’t offer any cheaper or better casas.
Next day, after a proper 10 hour sleep in we started our hike late. Trying to find a 16km track that has been described in the latest Lonely Planet, we went up to a fancy hotel up the hill with a nice pool and brilliant views over the valley. There we found out that the track used to start there, but not anymore and that of course it is better to go with a guide. Not sure for what reason- just better. Lonely Planet for Cuba in terms of giving good advice for an independent traveler has been really disappointing. We went back into town and started from there on our own. With some help of a rather useless LP map of the area and with the help of friendly locals we managed to find our way through tobacco farms, dry orange dusty roads and paddocks to two caves, both of them mentioned in LP.
First was just a tourist rip of, where we didn’t even bother to go in. Next cave was about 5 km more up the road. By the time we made it there it was some time past five and the cave was closed for visitors. Nevertheless for a small fee workers are quite happy to let you in to see the whole cave by yourself without 100’s of tourists that come here daily. Lovely. We did miss out on the boat ride, which turns out to be a 2 min ride anyway. We were thinking over pina colada in a nearby bar how to get back home, because it started to get late and then..sie Germans, of course, saved us again. This time a couple of them had a rental car and they were happy to give us a ride into the town.
Evening went by quick with a good chat and rum with our room neighbours. Next day we took off earlier in the morning to explore the remaining part of the national park (judging by LP map) towards Dos Hermanos campismo and Los Aquaticos. It was a nice start to the day. Clear skies, not too hot in the morning, amazing colours and friendly locals, who spoke spanish so quick and with a specific accent that we just smiled and nodded in response.
On the way to campismo we found a pina farm, horses, turkeys and other bits. Campismo looked quite decent and I would probably prefer to stay here right in the national park in a private cabin for half the price. Next time. From Dos Hermanas we continued on to Los Aquaticos.
As already mentioned, LP map is totally useless, so only with help of locals we got to a village that we thought probably is Los Aquaticos. By the legend, Los Aquaticos were people who discovered the healing abilities of the local underground water, that comes up through caves in surrounding mogotes. Since about 10 years no one is left in the village who is still practicing medicinal water drinking, because the last true Aquatico died- maybe the water wasn’t that healing after all?… The guy who we met on the way proposed to take us to the cave and swim in the healing waters instead. We did that and it was the greatest experience in Vinales. The cave is 26m deep and 4km long. After descending 5 or 6 meters down, our guide pulled out some previously prepared bottles filled with kerosine, lit them up and down we went. Nice and spooky. Eventually the track would stop and continue through a corridor filled with water. We jumped in our swim wear and continued on until we reached a wide opening with pool. Apparently in raining season the corridors are filled with twice as much water, which makes it impossible to walk. Also gushing water brings in a lot of logs and pieces of wood, which makes it tricky to walk through the cave. To go all the way through the cave and get out on the other side it is necessary to have scuba diving equipment. We didn’t have it, but were pretty happy with the experience of swimming in total darkness 26 m below the ground, in a still and silent cave.
We went back, tipped our guide, his wife showed us junta (I think that’s how it is called)- a local animal that they hunt with the help of little dogs and started our way back. After 10 or so minutes walking I realised that I had left my watch in the cave at the very bottom. Back we went. Now I think I can be a tour guide, because I know where the cave is and where the kerosine bottles are. This is the best of all three caves that we have seen in Vinales. It’s name is Cuave de Palamerito.
The rest of the pictures are here.
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Finally I am here. After dreaming about this country for about five years if not more, I am here. Lying in my bed. In arguably the best casa particulara in Havana, staring at the phosphorous stars glued to the ceiling, I lie here mesmerised by the atmosphere of this city, by beautiful people walking the streets, by my super lovely and welcoming hosts, by couch surfing (again! ), even by this old peeling window blinds that separate me from the ever beautiful, rough, romantic and incredibly sexy city- Habana…
I arrived on the 8th of March to Varadero, which is about two hours away from Havana. I had to wait two hours for my bus, during which I observed how thirsty for tourist money Cubans run around offering taxi’s, buses and tours and women dressed in a very revealing “sexy” fashion waiting for something… Havana met me with rain, amazing light and a big hug from a couch surfer David. He took me to the casa particulara of his friends, where we had a lovely dinner and a cin cin for the international day of women. Next thing- we went to visit his other friend Enrique, who is 44 and hosting travellers too. He studied in Moscow for 5 years, so we spoke in Russian. So so weird…and fun! I mentioned that Enrique is 44 because I can never believe Cubans, when they tell me how old they are. Lucky people with good genes. They all look wonderful and about 10 years younger than they actually are. Generally people are very very attractive here. I guess dancing whenever there is a free minute and smiling a lot helps. Couldn’t take my eyes off them. Had the urge to run around and take pictures of everyone. We picked up three french travellers and went for a sangria and cheeky wine on Malecon. Malecon is a road along the coast. Kind of a classic Havana place, where when the tide is high the waves are smashing on the side and splashing salty water all over the road, cars and unlucky people. When it’s quiet and dry there are always people hanging out, just like we were. Drinking, chatting, playing guitars and other instruments and of course dancing. Also a popular place for couples during day or night.
Next day started with me suddenly becoming very rich. In Cuba there is two currencies. One is sort of for foreigners (convertibles CUC) and the other is for locals (moneda national pesos). The exchange rate is about this: 1US=0.93CUC; 1CUC= 24 pesos. In Cuba you can get stuff amazingly cheap, like 10 pesos pizza, which is very simple and fatty, but delicious…or 2 peso glass of juice, 10 peso ride in a communal taxi etc. Also there is a lot of expensive stuff obviously only targeted at foreigners or rich cubans. Like Casa de Musica, where they play salsa every night, but simple cuban people can’t afford themselves to pay for the entrance let alone drinks in places like that.
After receiving 50CUC worth of pesos (in 10’s!!!) I went back home to leave a pack of money under the pillow, on my way to visit David at his place. It happened that this day his neighbour was celebrating his departure to Miami…. Chivas Regal at noon, continuing with rum, excellent home cooked food, cohibas and salsa in the kitchen in between. Later on me and a Canadian couple went for a stroll along Malecon into Havana Centro, where we enjoyed a cold beer in a local bar for 18 pesos and met a really nice old guy siting on his stair smoking a cigar. He invited us in and showed us photos of Havana 100 years ago or similar. Really interesting and lovely of him. His bicycle was of a similar vintage (of course a Russian one). I was surprised to see Obama’s picture on his wall. He said he likes him, because he is the first black president.Very lovely old man who just needs someone to talk to. Then we went to check out Callejon de Hammel, which is just a street in Havana Centro, where all the younger artists express themselves in form of graffiti or installations, using anything that they can find in this old city full of old objects.
Coming back home to Vedado we picked up David and went to see a drumming festival in Teatreo Mayo. One has to really love drumming to enjoy a concert like that. Eight very famous and talented drummers of Havana were playing solo for about 10 min each. Yes, they were incredible, but for me it’s a little too much of drumming, especially taking in mind that Cubans love their speaker volume very high – where are my earplugs?…To please me they finished the concert with a classic Aragon. For me it was incredible to see them, for most of the youngsters it wasn’t anything special, so they just stood up and left. No ethics!
As always, trying to go to bed a bit earlier never works, because I talk with Ernesto until the wee hours on the balcony.
Next day wasn’t less amazing- we went to check out David’s sister’s place and stayed there for pretty much all day. We were cleaning, drinking rum, of course dancing and hanging out with their kids. Afterwards we walked back home, which took us about 1,5 hours, but it was great to see a different part of Havana with it’s ancient buildings, so beautiful and so sadly slowly disappearing under the heavy hands of time…
Failing to wake up early due to never-ending conversations and debates with David and Ernesto, I managed to gather myself and go together with Ernesto for an exploration in Havana Centro. The plan was to take pictures, but my battery went flat and we were just walking and trying out peso pizzas, which was alright. Have seen China town, which is kind of bizarre to see in Havana, Capitolio building, Central park, tourists (finally I know where they are!) and a bit of the University. In the evening I was invited to come to David’s Dad’s birthday party. It was a blast, as it always is with David. His family is amazing! There was lots of talking, discussing (I surprised myself with ability my to discuss stuff in Spanish), really good food and of course dancing dancing dancing. His Mum was the first to jump up and show us how to do some boogie and on it went- salsa, son, rueda and even a bit of reggaeton. Wonderful night, wonderful people. I felt happy! It’s never an early night for me here in Havana…
Saturday we went to the cemetery. No, nothing sad about it, the contrary- it is so beautiful. Apparently the third most important in the world. The first two are in France and Spain. It is huge and most of it is white marble graves with amazing sculptures and church like graves. A lot of stories and legends to be told by a local very articulate guide. Recommend to get there early because there is a lot to see and hear. This night we agreed not to go crazy and have an early one. We even sacrificed going to a local rock concert, which promised to be good. Nevertheless, the early night never happened. Endless conversations on all sorts of themes wouldn’t let us go to rest.
I had an easy Sunday. Since everything closed I just strolled to Revolution plaza. A wide road leads to a high tower. One can just imagine what parades they’re having here on 1st of May. We missed a salsa concert this night as well, but had another long discussion with David and Ernesto over the beers…a very long discussion. I got home at around 3.30.
Next day I drag myself out of the bed to get to the bus station, where I met Curly. He flew in to Santiago and took an overnight bus to Havana. This day we went exploring Havana Centro. Which was nice, but quite touristy. So to get rid of a touristy vibe we ended our evening over a rum with coke and game of domino with Ernesto and his friend. Who said that Europeans/Australians don’t know how to play domino? Even though it was tricky because we played with 9 dominos instead of traditional 6’s, playing as a pair, we still came out winners!
With a late start to the day we managed to cover the whole of super touristy Havana Vieja, which isn’t that big. The walk through architectural beauties of old part of Havana was broken in two little bits with stops for mojitos, beers and hot chocolate. As the travellers bible recommended we went for a cheap feast to Los Nardos, where they served us a huge portion of chicken and fish for a reasonable price. It was very pleasant walking through Havana at sunset hours. Golden light and people coming back from work or school filled up the streets. We didn’t manage to check out museums so we came back the day after. Museo de Revolucion is quite interesting though overflowed with info about post revolution. I recommend reading about the revolution beforehand as well or watching a movie about Che. Museo de Artes belles is worth checking out as well, filled with paintings by Cuban artists.
It took us almost two days to try to find a bank where we could withdraw money. So not much to say about those days. We had a nice afternoon drinking beer in a local bar and tried a flying peso pizza, which was deliciosa!
The last night in Havana was spent with David and his extended family in Teatro Nacional, where we danced a lot of salsa and saw a local gig by a quite cheesy band. The night was awesome. We had lots of fun and even Curly was dancing. It was sad saying goodbye to someone like David. Without him, his help and his big big heart I would never have had such an awesome experience in Havana. He is a special special person in this hectic crazy incredible country.
The rest of the pictures, which I like immensely are here.
After successfully learning to kite board it was time to move on. I caught a couple of taxis and buses and arrived in Oracabessa, a small coastal town.
I met up with Sebastian and his new Danish friend Magnus (DJ Madness). The reason for visiting Oracabessa was a big dancehall party featuring most of the big names in Jamaica. It was beyond a true Jamaican experience. We were all well patted down and checked for drugs, but as soon as you get in people are selling weed everywhere anyway. I saw one guy getting searched by a female security guard. She pulled one joint out of his pocket, felt another two in his other pocket but just ignored them. Pretty funny. We got there at about 10 and got stuck in to the rum – a 200mL flask and a pepsi for about 6 or 7 bucks was the same price as 3 beers. Early in the night was a whole heap of no name dudes, most of whom really sucked, they couldn’t sing in tune at all. It got better as the night went on and became morning and I became less attuned to balance. At about 6 in the morning, things got very interesting. I was in the crowd, bopping away to someone that I had no idea who it was, when the whole crowd turned around and started running in a panic in the opposite direction. I joined in with the panic as I had not a clue as to what was going on. When I made it to the safety of a small bar, I looked back and saw stubbies being hurled at the stage and, even more unexpectedly, being hurled from the stage back at the offenders in the (now totally diminished) crowd. The newspaper the next day explained that these Vybz Kartel fans didn’t particularly like Bounty Killer. After about 5 minutes some music started up and everyone strolled on back in front of the stage as if nothing had happened. Well, this time the Bounty Killer fans didn’t like Vybz Kartel. Again, bottles were flying in both directions as the rest of us fled. This put quite an abrupt end to the party. I interviewed a couple of locals, which was fun, even though I could barely understand a word they were saying in Patois, which was also the case listening to the performers of the evening. I spent my last $2 on some dodgy fried chicken (I was actually expecting some delicious, freshly cooked jerk chicken), and walked home with my broken flip flops in my hand in the early morning light. I must have looked terrible. But that was my true Jamaican experience.
After a recovery day we set off for Black River, via Ocho Rios and Mo Bay. It took us a long time and we arrived after dark. We stayed in a bus at Sunset Beach. Black River is quite well renowned. Check out this photo and see if you can tell why. Hint: Never smile…
Yes, right in the middle of the town… a crocodile. We went on a boat ride up the river to see a few more. It was ok. You can get really close to them while they sunbathe. They can apparently grow up to about 4 metres. At the bridge where we stopped to turn around we had the opportunity to swim. I waived this opportunity, something doesn’t feel right about swimming in a river that you’ve just paid money to see crocodiles. I went swimming at our guesthouse and that was freaky enough. Even thought the owner assured us that it was totally safe, with zero visibility I was in and out of there very quickly. The town was ok, very Jamaican, but nothing special. Played some pool with a dude in a bar, but nothing to write home about… oh, hang on, I just did.
Next stop, not too far down the road, was Treasure Beach. It has a high ratio of tourists, but is very small and has generally avoided the big hotel complexes and all inclusive type tourism and is very minimalist when it comes to hustlers. The two other boys loved the place, for me it was ok. We went straight to the beach with our snorkelling gear, which didn’t get wet that day. There was some small waves rolling in so we opted for body surfing instead. We stayed for 5 nights and it was good to be able to cook for ourselves rather than have rice and peas twice a day.
The next day, we caught a taxi, actually a car impersonating a taxi, to Southfields. From here we walked the 1.5 km along the road to Lovers Leap, a ‘cliff’ where two slaves apparently jumped into the sea rather than have to part. This could be true, if they could jump about 2 km. It was not a cliff, just a very steep hill. The place was closed for renovations (more likely no one could be bothered running the place any more) so we made our own backpackers leap over the fence. The view was brilliant. At 500 metres elevation you could see the coast for kilometres, with the blue sea disappearing into a hazy sky. We found the small hiking trail across the football pitch and headed down. Halfway we could see some splashing going on. It looked like dolphins having some fun. It took us one hour to get to the bottom, where we expected to find a small beach, but instead found one of the world’s biggest rock pools. It was beautiful, but certainly didn’t feel like the traditional perception of Jamaica. There was a ledge, hundreds of metres long, where the small waves smashed into the rocks. It looked very nice and deep, but we decided it wasn’t safe trying to climb back up with the waves breaking over the rocks. On the land side of this ledge the water was knee deep, slowly tapering back to land about 15-20 metres away. We had to settle for a relaxing bathe al naturale here. The water was a perfect temperature – refreshing after the hike down in the midday sun, yet warm enough to laze around for half an hour without getting cold. We went for a wander along the coast a bit, but it was much of the same. We did encounter a random fisherman walking along the rocks with just a hand line. It was a big hike to catch no fish. After a bit more splashing around it was time to head back. It was really quite hot now and very little breeze the whole way. Magnus made it up in 40 minutes the crazy bugger. Sebas and I weren’t exactly slow finishing in 55. I was really struggling, so much that the first drink was non-alcoholic. Yeah, hot.
We went out to a local bar on the Friday night. It was good vibes with a nice young crowd – mainly locals with a few tourists floating about. Played some pool and had a good evening. So good, that we went back there Saturday night. Unfortunately, I did myself a bit of a mischief. We were drinking overproof rum at home before we went, then more at the bar. Its always cheaper to buy a 200mL bottle and a mixer than drink anything else. The overproof rum put me over the edge and I had to leave the pub early – needless to say the memories are hazy. At some point I realised that I didn’t have the key to get in our room and rather than going back to the pub, I came up with the ingenious solution of sleeping in a tree! It was such a fluffy and inviting tree. I believe I slept very comfortably for many hours before returning to our room. It was 2 days later that I met a girl who told me that I was actually trying to sleep in another tree closer to the pub, but she insisted that I go home. I showed her!
Our guesthouse called us a taxi to take us to some random town. On the way he called his mate to meet us there and take us to Mandaville. From there it was a bus to Kingston, a shuttle bus to the other Kingston bus station, a minibus to Papine and a taxi to Red Light. That’s as far as public transport goes. Here we play the hitch hiking game, very similar to the waiting game somewhere as remote as the Blue Mountains. There literally was not a single car drive past that had any spare seats for more than an hour while we chatted with locals and ate little fried snacks. Micky from the hostel was driving past and picked us up, for our seventh vehicle for the day. We drove 100 metres around the corner and stopped at the bar for one and to pick up Michael, the hostel owner. Another 10 minutes and we finally arrived in the dark to Mount Edge Hostel. Even with smooth connections all of the way (until Red Light) it had taken us almost all day. The hostel was buzzing. There was about a dozen guests and most were enjoying a drink and a smoke.
I awoke in the morning and the view from the balcony looking over the valley was beautiful. After a delicious breakfast we went down to the river for a dip in the chilly natural pool, followed by a barefoot hike in the undies up stream a few hundred metres, taking in magnificent scenes of small waterfalls, pools and lush flora. Along with some conversations about permaculture and renewable energies, I was feeling very energised myself. I had planned on staying 4 nights, but soon convinced myself that it wasn’t necessary to stay in Kingston and increased it to 6. I didn’t do a lot, but you don’t need to do a lot, just enjoy the feeling of the picturesque surrounding mountains.
I did visit an old Rasta man’s house. He has a couple of acres covered with trees and plants, mostly of the edible variety, of which we bought some. I also found time to visit the Rasta camp, about an hours walk away. It wasn’t quite what I was hoping for. We didn’t get to speak to anyone about how they run the place, what they do there, or what Rastafarianism is about. Instead, we played games with kids for about an hour. Of course this was fun, and the kids are gorgeous with their dreadlocks, but not particularly educating for anyone.
The Wednesday was a public holiday and there was a pool party in the tiny village of Red Light. It was running all afternoon and into the wee hours, but I only went for a few hours in the evening. I was amazed by how many people there were. Young people had seemingly wandered down out of the mountains for this glorious occasion, with Dancehall music blaring louder than the human threshold for pain, continually being interrupted briefly for the DJ to say something stupid. It became impossibly annoying after not too long.
I had a wander around down town Kingston one day. Nothing too exciting, nor scary, but from the stories I hear and the odd couple of super dodgy looking blokes I wouldn’t be strolling around in the evening. I went to the craft market which must have had 100 little stalls in there, with 100 people working, yet I was the only customer in the entire place for the hour I was there, checking out there handmade items, wondering which ones were factory made and/or imported from China, then spending just a few dollars in one shop – I don’t know how they can survive.
My last night at the Hostel was great. A couple of friends of the place turned up with instruments and amplifiers and had a proper jam session. It was an awesome finish to my stay there. Would I go back to Jamaica? Yes, but not desperately. There were a few places I didn’t make it to that I would have liked to. Besides that, the only places I would excitedly return to would be the Blue Mountains and especially Bounty Bay. Maybe Treasure Beach because I didn’t get to see the whole area.
The rest of the Jamaican pictures are here.
Next stop – Cuba!
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Everybody in Negril tries to sell you something, Danny from the local market was no exception. He got a bit excited when I said I was going to Montego Bay that afternoon because he lived there and would be driving home in a few hours. I told him I would only pay $6, the same as the taxi fare. After some time he accepted. It worked out really well for me, only having to take one car from door to door instead of 3 taxis. I stayed the first 2 nights at Bethel Court Guesthouse (hostel), $20 for a dorm. Was a nice friendly atmosphere. I checked out the yacht club and put up a notice, hoping to find a captain sailing to Cuba in a few weeks time. I’m not the biggest fan of the yacht club scene. It seems that yachties hardly leave the marina complex and their impression of a city or even country can be based on such a small area. Of course the prices are inflated too.
I spent the next few nights at Cedar Ridge Guesthouse for the same rate. I was looking forward to some quiet time in the mountains (only 10-15 mins drive to town) to do some research and writing. It certainly was very remote. There is no public transport to get there and I was the only guest. Gregory is a young guy who has just started running his massive family home as a guesthouse. He is nothing short of a legend. I arrived there on a Friday. He and his neighbour had organised a bbq for the Saturday afternoon. He had told his mate Chris to turn up at 15.00, who decided that 15.45 might be a bit more appropriate, knowing Gregory. When he arrived, I was the only one home. Not only that, but I didn’t have a key and was a prisoner in this house. We chatted through the bars of the door for half an hour before I finally found a key. This key was good news, because Chris had brought a bottle of rum and was not rude enough to drink alone. We polished that off and then some I had floating around with Gregory and many others appearing at some stage in the proceedings. The bbq jerk chicken wasn’t actually ready until 23.30! Epic, to say the least.
I realised that my retreat was not so quiet. Sunday was the best day. It wasn’t the earliest start, but we went to a beach, paid $3.50 to enter and then a further $7 to buy a cup, which can be refilled as many times as you want until 18.00. We smashed down a heap of rum, went and did some backflips on the floating pontoon and just generally ran around crazy on the beach. It’s not a massive party, but really good vibes.
Chris told me how he was starting up a business with a mate, doing online marketing, including for Kite Boarding Jamaica, in return for some free lessons. I thought that sounded pretty cool and decided to go and check out the joint with him. The place was beautiful. A proper white sand aqua water palm tree paradise, away from the big crowds and associated hustlers. There was accommodation available, but at $45/night it was well out of my budget. It was paradise. I wanted to stay. I struck a deal with Julia, the German owner of the school. I would pay $15/night to sleep on the couch in the shop and only get charged local rates for lessons and equipment hire. This was perfect. I ended up staying there for 11 nights, boarding for 9 of the days. It took me 8 days to be able to say that ‘I can kite board’, meaning actually stand on the board and not get blown down wind. I had some quiet time in the mornings and evenings, but not boredom. There was a German couple staying for a large portion of the time and we shared a few beers here and there.
We visited the all inclusive hotel down the beach. It was really nice, but absolutely horrible. All inclusive means that people really never leave the complex, hardly a Jamaican experience. It could be any hotel in the world. It’s really no more than a change of climate for these people. Our favourite line was, ‘Ok everybody, follow the flames to the beach, and remember, this is a party atmosphere!‘ We had a couple of free rums and games of pool and got out of there.
On the Friday night we went to Pier 1 in Mo Bay, along with Julia, 2 of the instructors – Santino and Shaun, Chris and Gregory. It was a fun night and interesting to see the Jamaicans in party mode, with some good daggering on the dance floor. Jamaicans are very homophobic. There was a small hens party, dancing around with a blow up dude, dude included. Normally guys constantly try to dance with girls, but this doll kept them away. I asked to borrow him, put him on my shoulders and walked over to the boys and said, ‘Have you met my brother? He’s a bit of a dickhead!’ They freaked out, slapping him off me, ‘Get that off ya!’ Julia thought it was funny and wanted to take a photo, but the boys wouldn’t allow it. The night was so good that I actually went back the following Friday for another session.
