Steven’s Cuba Blog

Cuba Chronicles, Chapter Nine

April 2, 2006 at 6:47 pm | In Trip Report |

THE CALM BEFORE THE CALM

Trinidad de Cuba, Tuesday, September 13th, 2005,1:30pm

My host failed to wake up this morning in time for breakfast. Trouble is, some of the doors in this large estate are locked, and I had no choice but to wait for him before I could leave. I prepared my belongings so that I could be ready to leave asap. I would soon find out that my problems for the ride from Cienfuegos to Trinidad were only beginning.

Not 5 minutes after I left the casa, I started to hear a grinding noise and my bike felt very heavy all of a sudden. Fearing the worst, I looked back and was relieved to find that my sports bag was still on my bike, and hadn’t fallen off. I stopped the bike at a busy intersection on the outskirts of Cienfuegos at 7:30am, and saw that my panier (the platform above my rear wheel where my luggage is mounted) had bent its support arms to the point where it was rubbing against the rear tire.

I briefly wondered how it managed to support all the weight since the beginning of the trip, only to suddenly bend under less weight (My luggage - and myself - had been getting progressively lighter since the start of the trip). For some reason, there seemed to be an obscene amount of traffic going by that morning; busses, trucks, horses, motorcycles, cars and bicycles all slowed down to observe as I performed first-aid on my bike. About an hour, 6 tie-wraps, a quarter-roll of electrical tape and a sore shoulder from bending the aluminum back into place with my hands, I lightened the load of my travel bag by putting the heaviest items into my backpack. This didn’t make the ride any easier for me, of course, but it kept the panier from bending any further than it already had. I slowly started riding, often looking back to make sure everything was still in place. The bike felt a little off-balance, but I didn’t really have much of a choice but to go on at this point.

It wasn’t until 9:00am that I had left Cienfuegos, and the day wasn’t getting any cooler.

Immediately after leaving Cienfuegos towards Trinidad, you’ve got a very steep climb with sharp corners and very little area to build up your speed, and, like the view, are breathtaking. I’m loathe to admit that I walked my bike quite a bit over the first mountains. I only had to stop and ask for directions a couple times, mostly in the mountains upon leaving Cienfuegos, but after that, the scenic road (via escenica) levels off, wedges itself between the glorious mountains on your left and the inviting ocean on your right, and makes a bee-line for Trinidad.

I was amazed to find myself worried more about my bike than about myself. So far, we’d ridden together all the way from Havana, half-way through the island, to Trinidad. With no one else to talk to I often found myself talking to my bike… when I’d be tired or discouraged, I’d create these elaborate discussions where we’d take turns weighing the pros and cons of stopping to rest now or going on for a few more kilometers. We’d admire the scenery together, joke about that cute girl we saw waiting for a lift, or go over some of the multitude of worries that I unwillingly brought with me on this trip, about personal life, finances, or relationships. My bike became a close friend to me on this trip. Kind of like cowboys with their horses. Only weirder, I guess. On this stretch, though, it was more worry than conversation. I felt sorry for my bicycle as I could definitely tell that she was under a lot of strain. The steep climbs, muddy puddles and canyon-sized potholes didn’t help at all, and I resolved to give it a complete tune-up once we got to Trinidad.

As I was thinking this, I hear a “pop”, and just catch, out of the corner of my eye, a small shiny object being flung far into the shrubbery bordering the road. Indeed, it was the aluminum panier - the other side, this time. It would seem that I “repaired” it so tightly that it had no leeway to move or sway, and that the pressure of one pothole too many caused the bolt to head for the hills. I repaired that side as well, leaving my bike looking like a frightening amalgam of orange metal, tie wraps, and electrical tape - a two-wheeled Darth Vader, if you will. Despite all of this, it kept on going strong for the rest of this ride, all the way to Trinidad.

The extra weight on my shoulders, the later-than-usual departure, and the misalignment problems on my bicycle all started to take their toll on me. Somehow, I lost track of my water and food intake during the ride, and ended up finishing all my water with still at least 25 km to go. Now, if you know the temperatures in Cuba during the day, you know that there’s no way you’re going to bike 25 km on a sunny afternoon over hills without any water. I had no idea if there were any paladares or canteens between where I was now and Trinidad. So what did I do? Well, I pulled over to the first house that I saw, and knocked on the door. A friendly young lady answered, and I explained my situation to her, while her kids and some other people kept talking and glimpsed at me occasionally. Before I could finish, smiling and without saying a word, she went to her kitchen, and returned with her arms full of several bottles of water, juice and other drinks. It would’ve been enough for a small family. She insisted to the point of impatience that I take everything, and when I told her that I was no way that I would take anything without giving her something in return. In a generous, human battle of attrition, she finally conceded and took some money that I had offered her (still less than I would’ve paid at a restaurant or bar). Before I could leave, she wrote down her address on a piece of paper and made me promise that next time I was in town, I’d visit them if I had some more time to talk.

With my spirits much higher, I continued on my way to Trinidad. I’m not too sure what the beverages I was drinking were, but they were damn good. Half a bottle after the miscellaneous-sugary-orange-drink, I felt a surge of energy as if I had been drinking sweet black coffee all morning. Averaging 30km / hour, I met the “Bienvenidos a Trinidad de Cuba” sign in less than an hour after stopping at the house.

My first impressions of Trinidad were mixed - on one hand you’ve got the beautiful cobblestone streets, historically fascinating buildings and homes, stunning horses sharing the streets with Audis, gorgeous geography with the main part of the town nestled in between the Topes de Collantes mountain range / nature preserve on one side and the ocean on the other. A lot of this was offset by the fact that there seemed to be more tourists than locals in this small town - therefore “hustling” is carried to an art form, here. One person tried to convince me that he was sent to “wait” for me from the casa owner in case I got lost. He was extremely convincing, clever and believable, but his story failed to pan out when he claimed to be the owner’s husband; he looked about my age (late 20s); the casa owner is in her 80s.

I quickly got my bearings, and found the “Casa Mercedes”, with her son and grandson sitting right in front of it. Like the casa in Cienfuegos, it was a huge estate sprawling reaching from one street to the one behind it, all behind an unassuming exterior.

One thing I love about these homes is how they combine durability, elegance and common-sense with esthetics. This particular home had many rooms, covered and well-shielded from the elements, all leading to a central semi-covered “courtyard / dining room”, with a staircase added that leads to the sprawling terrace on top of the house. Given the climate, of course, it makes perfect sense - but I’d still love to have a similar place here in Montreal. That would probably cost a few magnitudes of order more than I can afford, though.

Like Yadin’s casa in Santa Clara, this was another one of those homes that I just couldn’t bring myself to leave. More so than any other place I’ve been, I quickly became “part of the family” and had some of the best conversations of my trip here. I ended up spending an insane amount of time here - about 16 days, or 1/3 of my trip, to be exact. Not consecutively - 10 days on this leg of the trip and 6 days later on, on my way back from Santiago de Cuba. That’s pretty telling about what an incredible time I had here. I’m tempted to say that it was my favorite destination in Cuba, but then… I’m tempted to say that about every city I’ve been to there.

Trinidad is a city with an incredibly rich history.

The beach most convenient to Trinidad is Playa Ancon. Its main sandy stretch contains some cookie-cutter tourist resorts, but head eastward a few more minutes and you end up at a spectacular rocky shore with the clearest waters I’ve seen on the south coast of Cuba. I spent a few entire days biking and lounging here, whether alone, or with the casa owner’s grandchildren.

I’ll go into more detail about Trinidad de Cuba itself in the next Cuba Blog entry.