Cuba- parte cinco-Cien Fuegos

Cuban Excursion- parte- cinco -Cien Fuegos

 

Tues. Dec 4^th, 2018- At sea near Cien fuegos, Cuba

 

         We were up by 6 A.M. Coffee and a pastry tided us over as we prepped for the day. We had to assemble at 7:30 A.M. in the Sirena lounge. for our six-hour excursion through Cien fuegos and out into the countryside. Customs was a wave through. We found our ten-passenger bus and our guide Iliana. Her English was perfect.

 

          The name of the city in Spanish means “100 fires,” but it was actually named after an earlier Governor General in Cuba named Jose’ Maria Cienfuegos. The City was founded in 1819 by a New Orleans Frenchman named Louis de Clouet, who settled in the area as part of the Spanish Colonial policy of “Blanchismo.” Literally it means a “whitening.” The Spaniards were trying to encourage white farmers to settle here to offset the people of color who far outnumbered them. It was a period of revolution in nearby Haiti. In 1807, Toussaint Overture had revolted and expelled the white property owners from nearby Haiti. Many of them settled in Cien Fuegos. The deep harbor here encouraged shipment of freight.

 

           The city itself is much cleaner and smaller than Habana. Some of the buildings feature a classical Greek façade and looked to be in good repair. The anomaly, that first caught our attention, was the lack of traffic lights in the city. We didn’t see a single one. Several stop signs (pare) attempted to regulate traffic. But, when the driver approached a major intersection, he simply waited until there was a small gap in the cross flow of traffic. Then he stomped on the gas and we barreled through the intersection hoping not to be t-boned. It was comical when it wasn’t terrifying. The other complication was the proliferation of horse drawn conveyances. They weren’t tourist buggies but a large part of the transportation system. They of course mover very slowly and added to the traffic congestion. 

 

        It was early in the work day and throngs of Cien Fuegans were afoot, headed to school and work. The elementary children all wore red scarves, sign of the “pioneer spirit” of the soviet days. The older-school girls wore yellow blouses and green skirts. The boys were all dressed in khaki. They appeared neat and well ordered.

 

       The central square in town is called  Jose’ Marti Square. A large statue of “Jose’ Marti,” the father of modern Cuba, dominates the square. Running alongside of it is a seven block long pedestrian mall featuring artists and a variety of vendors selling all manner of tourist bric a brac. The Tomas Terry Theater here provides cultural enrichment. The Ferra Palace Hotel and the Hotel Jagua are of decent appearance and provide shelter for visitors. The Hotel Jagua was another hotel owned by American gamblers. It had been seized in the Revolution. The peasants had risen here in 1957, two years before Castro’s revolt. The rising had been brutally put down by Batista’s military. The main crops in the area are sugar cane, cigars, coffee beans and Maribu charcoal. Mango, orange and guava trees abound. A passenger asked our guide how much a royal palm tree would cost? She didn’t understand the question. Royal palms abound throughout Cuba. Why would you ever buy one? When I informed her that in Florida, contractors can charge up to $1,500 per royal palm, when building a home, she appeared stunned.

 

           Our bus drove us 90 minutes out into the country side. It was a portrait of 1920’s America. Many horse-drawn conveyances and indeed horse riders provided transportation on the narrow two-lane roads. Motor cycles were also plentiful. And hitch hiking a ride to work was perfectly acceptable. Nicely dressed Cubanos tried to flag down any motorized conveyance to give then a ride to their place of employment. A cigar factory provides many jobs. The homes here appeared neat and well ordered. Many small casitas had attached plots of farmland, where residents grew vegetables, fruits and other foodstuffs to augment their monthly rations. Each family in the area receives a ration book that allows them to buy five pounds of sugar, rice, beans and salt. Meat is virtually unavailable here for the average person. Chicken and pork help augment their diet. That of course led to a thriving black market where you can obtain anything for the right price.

 

          In one small town, the major road was blocked by a vegetable truck. Residents stood patiently in line, hoping to purchase some of the goods. This line blocked the road. Our bus, and several very large dump trucks hauling sand, had to struggle to find a few back roads around the event. Priorities here are obtaining food. The sugar cane fields line the roads, a symbol of the area’s main crop.

 

         Along the way, I watched something that I had never seen before. A man was plowing his field with a team of oxen pulling the metal plow. Tractors here are apparently scarce. So, in deed was farming. I observed tens of thousands of arable lands lying fallow. A few hundred tractors, some chemicals and fertilizer and this land could feed the Caribbean basin.

 

          We passed through the small village of Cumanagua. It was well ordered with many small casitas, all surrounded by the colorful bougainvillea that grows everywhere here. It was 90 degrees F and hot today. An ice cream factory here provides many locals with employment. In the Cuban country side people appear to live healthier and more productive lives than in the crowded cities. That is the plus side. What you did for entertainment here is watch the stars and enjoy the beautiful weather.

 

           We began to traverse an upward climb into the Jamaguaya Mountains. The roads are narrow and in rough shape. We reached our destination “Parque el Nicho.” It is a nature preserve with running streams, beautiful glades with crystal ponds and every plant and bird form available in Cuba. Iliana secured “Tomas” our local guide. It was he who would lead us up the treacherous mountain path to the top. The rudimentary path was carved from the hillside and lined with rocks. Footing here is difficult. On a rainy day, it would be impossible. I had thought myself in decent shape, but I struggled to make it up the mountain. Native birch hand holds helped some, but most of the time, you had to walk with the agility of a mountain goat and hold onto tree and shrubs to make your way. If you did fall here, I don’t know how they would get you out. Our first stop was a picture takers dream. The Poceta (pond) ” of el enamoratos” (lovers)  was a small opening in the trail. Running water here created a very clear pond and sitting area. Everyone dutifully took pictures of each other. After we caught our breath, we proceeded on. Naturally, the younger people blew by us like we were standing still. The difficulty of the climb increased. On several “steps” I didn’t think I was going to be able to propel myself forward. A last burst of energy and the fear of the kids seeing us as too old to make the climb propelled me upwards.

 

          At the top of our climb, at the two-thousand foot in elevation level, we came upon a much larger “Poceta Crystal” (crystal pond). Several people were already in swimming. The temperature of the water was a cool sixty degrees, Fahrenheit. We sat for a time in the warm sun, watching the bathers. A large party of Russians was in swimming. I know this because I chatted with them briefly in Russian asking of the water was very cold “ochen xolodna, Da?” They replied in the negative and that it was just fine. It was the first party of Russians that we had come upon in Cuba. Many of their fathers and grandfathers must have served here during the thirty year period of the “Russian visit “ to Cuba. A small cave in the hillside here provided a place for people to change into bathing costumes, should they so choose. A few from our group tried the water, bless them for their hardy souls.

 

             A second group from our ship was already arriving. The small glade was getting crowded. Tomas began the long trek back. I asked him several times “where is the elevator?” for the ride down. He merely smiled and said that it was not working today. The path down was equally as difficult as the one up. We held on for dear life to trees and bushes, as the winding path led us down the mountain, praying that we didn’t slip and tumble down the hill like a rolling human avalanche. After a struggle, we made it back to the Poceta D’amoratos and sat for a few minutes to catch our breath. A good number of locals were passing by us in both directions. The trail was a popular spot. We watched over head for the various types of birdlife and observed the varied plant life all around us. The small “Toko Rollo” bird, a tri-colored Tragon, is the national bird. Its feathers feature the same colors as the Cuban flag.

 

            Finally, we reached the base of the mountain. Here sits a large open-sided dining area, the restaurant “Los Heleachos.” We sat at a trestle table and enjoyed a Cuban country meal. Served family style, we enjoyed arroz & frijoles (rice and beans,) a sweet potato, green beans and tomatoes and a can of Cuban Cervesa (Whirlwind). The Cuban Coffee was both very strong and delicious. A small bowl of meat of some sort was available for those who partake. It was both tasty and fun to eat Cuban style. As always during meals when you travel, you meet interesting people. One couple from Indiana were commercial farmers. We traded observations about the need for tractors here. He informed me that the U.S had delivered a few hundred as part of the ransom for Bay of Pigs invaders in the early sixties. Lack of parts had sidelined many of them.

 

         Another couple were native Israeli’s who now resided in Boca Raton, Fl. Both had served in the Israeli military. The conversation was an eye opener into many things modern Israelis take for granted like Terrorist threats and framing the desert. The man, now an eminent plastic surgeon, had been captured by Arabs and held for eight weeks. It wasn’t a pleasant stay for him. His wife said that he was still scarred form the incident.

 

             Iliana rounded up her charges and we set off for the ninety-minute drive back to Cien Fuegos. The lush countryside and feelings of potential abundance again captured my eyes. The horse-drawn conveyances, and hundreds of people walking the roads and hitch hiking, provided the lesser abundant reality that is modern day Cuba,

 

               We stopped for thirty minutes at Jose’ Marti Square. A magnificent church faces one side of the plaza. It has been restored and looked both medieval and elegant with its two towers of antiquity. A small mariachi band was playing in one corner of the square for tourists. A few panhandlers were about, trying to hit on the tourists. The police were there watching them  to keep everything in check. It was very hot out. A cavalcade of motorbikes roared by the street around us. It appeared to be one of the principal means of transport in the crowded city streets. You did have to watch out for them as you crossed the bust streets. We ventured along the seven-bock promenade, admiring art work and tourist glitz on sale. Some of the artists were quite good. The images of rural Cuba made for great looking art. Unfortunately, things like this don’t pack well for travelers. The locals sat in the shaded lee of buildings hoping for sales and calling out to potential buyers. It was both colorful and lively.

 

               Back in the square, we sat for a time and just watched the interesting people and sights all around us. Everything you see is a story is my credo. A bright pink, restored, 1957 Buick Electra caught the attention of many, as it sat parked on the street. Also, the two-story, low slung “oldest house” in Cuba was open for visitors. A small fee allowed you to go in and see a visage of Colonial Cuba. The day was waning and we were tiring. Iliana rounded up her charges and we made our way back to the ship, arriving at 5 P.M, not too long before the ship would get underway. We all gave Iliana 5 CCU’s and thanked her for the informative tour. She is a big fan of Cien Fuegos and a wonderful ambassador of all that the area has to offer.

 

            Back in the air-conditioned bubble of the Sirena, we repaired to our room to write up my notes, enjoy some sparkling water and chill out. The Sirena soon dropped her lines and began a slow passage through and inside passage, towards the sea. I sat on our balcony and watched the portrait of Cuban life slide by. There appeared to be several prosperous looking sea-side villas and lots of traffic on the water. Many small canoes and row boats drifted by. I sipped a vodka martini and pondered the many things that I had seen that day. The cultural anomalies, the economic differences and all manner of differing philosophies drifted through my febrile brain. As always, we concluded that we were very fortunate to have been born and bred in America.

 

        We managed a six O’clock dinner in the main dining room. Oysters Rockefeller, Caesar salad, an exquisite swordfish filet, with coffee and a decent Pinot Noir, made for a pleasant meal. As always, in the Caribbean, I was uneasy in dining so lavishly while people around us had so little. We were tired with the day, the heat and the humidity. We repaired to our cabin, read for a time and drifter off to sleep. The great ship made her way south and eastwards, towards tomorrow’s destination, Santiago, Cuba.

                                             -30-

                                            (2,371 words)

 

                                       Joseph Xavier Martin