Trinidad

I woke up to what sounded like a farmyard convention. Rafael's casa was on the edge of town so I was roused by a veritable chorus of barn animals that all seemed to be egging the other on to make ever more enthusiastic and irritating noises. The cockrels were engaged in an especially vociferous debate.

Breakfast at casa Rafael was an absolute treat. Every morning in Cuba it had been the same ritual. Banana, guava, pineapple, wake the dead coffee, egg, juice and stale bread. Today had the welcome addition of two whole new fruits and, wait for it, processed ham. I wolfed the whole meal down faster than a Victorian urchin at a buffet. There were even biscuits and pastry like treats which I pocketed for the road.

If anything, Cuba has made me exceedingly grateful for things I have always taken for granted. Access to good and reliable food and internet were now blessings that I wept with joy upon receiving. Traveling in a vehicle that didn't crush your vertebrae into dust was another.

It was hard to imagine what most Cubans thought of us spoilt, greedy Westerners. All Cubans my age or above would have lived through 'The Special Period.' This was the time after 1991 when the Soviet Union collapsed and led to an instantaneous 60% contraction of the economy. The worst of it lasted until 1994, during which the average Cuban lost a third of their bodyweight. This enforced crash dieting has given the Cubans something of a thick skin when it comes to their everyday hassles.

Cubans are, as a result of this and many other of Communism's quirks, a very innovative people. They really have managed to squeeze a great deal from a very short deck.

Whilst life here is by no means perfect, I get the impression that most Cubans are a happy lot. It's hard to be mad when the weather is glorious most of the year and rum is the same price as water. I've also seen far less abject poverty here than most places in the US. And they get free healthcare too. America please take note.

Over the last few days I've been attempting to dip my wick in the spirit of Cuban frugality. This is an incredibly difficult place to travel as a solo traveler on a tight budget. There are almost no hostels so 20 CUC is about as low as you can go a night. There are also very few shops that sell food that is particularly edible on the go. And if find one are you are likely to have to wait in line. A time honored Communist tradition.

One money saving tip I'd started using was to substitute lunch with banannas. Bananas were one of the few foods one could easily pick up for little money. They were filling, portable and bunged you up real good if you happened to have the shits (incedentally my gastric health has been nothing short of phenomenal so far). They are also easily shared and don't spoil as quickly as most fruits and vegetables.

Another little trick I picked up from the Cubans was to buy rum and sneak it into bars. Pretty much every Cuban I'd seen on a night out had managed to smuggle rum in through some cavity or another. One bottle of rum cost as much as two mojitos in a bar. The economics are hard to ignore. It's also a good way to make friends, if the bananas don't work.

My plan for the day was to hike to a waterfall around 15k from Trinidad. I'd heard it was a half decent spot and the surrounding countryside was quite delightful. No sooner had I left Trinidad than I was approached by a man with a horse and cart. He was called Felix and wore a Confederate flag cap with the word 'Rebel' written accross the front. I thought about explaining why his choice of headware wasn't quite Cuban Communist appropriate, but I think it would be have just led to more confusion.

He offered me a ride to the falls and back for 10 CUC with entrance to the waterfall included. Given that the entrance fee to the waterfalls is 10 CUC, this deal was too good to ignore. I decided I would expend the energy I'd saved later in the evening on the dance floor.

I was soon glad for the ride. The path was treacherous and confusing. We had to ford several rivers and deep, liquid mud to get there. Without Felix, I'd probably be halfway to Havana by now. My Spanish had improved somewhat and I was able to hold something close to a conversation. Of course, he wanted to talk about every Cuban male's favorite topic.

'Chicas Cubanos es muy caliente, si?' I heartily agreed, with much head nodding. Although I'd noticed a hugely disproportionate number of Cuban men out at night vs women. I assumed they were all stuck at home looking after their children. Come to think of it, the only Cuban girl I'd really spoken to on a night out to was Jumania the transvestite.

The waterfall was an easy walk from the national park entrance. Although calling it a waterfall was more than generous. This is the middle of the dry season so it was more of a waterpiddle. At the base there was a deep, turquoise pool which I flopped into with great glee. Any solo female traveler who perched themselves by the water was immediately (and predictably) set upon by an amorous Cuban horseman. There was a small army of them perched above the fall, ready to strike at a moment's notice.

Back at the casa a group of middle aged French guests had arrived. I got talking with their guide Rosaria. She seemed pretty fed up with her tour group, which was quite understandable after I'd spent five minutes in their company. I told her she should go to the cave club later as we'd had a fun night there and might go there again.

That evening I met up with the two French girls from Vinales, Marion and Gael. We had arranged to meet Tom, Simon and a couple from San Francisco at the town square. Miraculously, we were able to successfully assemble without any access to the internet. Who knew it was possible?

We had something of a squad going and merrily drank mojitos watching salsa on the steps next to the cathedral. It was about as Cuban an evening as it gets. Decent company can really make or break an evening whilst traveling. Barflying or just reading quietly in a cafe is certainly pleasurable but it's great to have a group night out with fun folks every once in a while.

Later, we hit up a salsa joint and gyrated the night away until, and I'm not exaggerating, military police with automatic weapons turned up to announce last orders.

It had been the most fun evening of the trip so far and we merrily said our goodbyes at around 4am.

Back at the casa, as I was changing for bed, I heard a tap at my ground floor window. I opened the heavy metal slats to see the rather startling sight of Rosaria, the French tour guide's eyes bulging bulging through the darkness.

'I go to the cave tonight but you never come.' Even though I could only see the whites of her eyes in the darkness, I could tell that she had supped a few rums too many.

'We went to another salsa place in the end. Hope you had fun. Buesnos noches.' She didn't reply. I closed the screetchy, heavy metal blinds.

After a few minutes lying in bed I heard a distinct shuffling outside the window. It could only have been Rosaria. I hoped she would go away so I could get some sleep but then I heard the slow, deliberate screetching of the blinds opening from the outside. I didn't move and started to make audible snoring noises, hoping this might drive the point home.

Then silence. Some time passed. I noticed a sudden flash of light. And then again. I half-opened one eye and realised that she was trying to wake me up with her phone torch. She started calling for me in a rather raspy, slurred whisper. 'Alejandro....es tu awake?' I snored louder.

Then silence again. I felt something small hit my leg. A moment past and then another, followed by a tapping sound on the floor. She was throwing pebbles at me.

At this point I'd had enough. I got up and walked to the window.

'Is everything OK Rosaria?'

'Yes, are you eh sleepy?' Now I could see a smile through the blinds and it was deeply unnerving.

'Yes Rosaria, I'm exhausted. Buenos noches.'

And with that I re-shut the blinds and the rest of my evening was a short, silent and mercifully Rosaria free.