Trinidad

Editor's Pick Award

Our Editors awarded this travel blog entry for providing relevant information that may be useful and inspiring for other travelers.

The train lines in Cuba run the whole length of the island and I think are the best ways to get around the country: as a foreigner paying in dollars, you are always guaranteed a seat no matter how late you book, and seats are comfortable if not a little socialist (flat cushions!) The train to Sancti Spiritus left at 9.30 Pm, and would arrive in SS at 7 am the next morning. It was a comfortable ride and I slept most of the way, despite the violent lurching! We stopped several times, inexplicably (like most train journeys in the world) in total darkness and in the middle of nowhere while small kids sold snacks and crackers thru the cabin. Several times an armed soldier walked the length of the train checking tickets... at one stop we stayed there for about an hour, in plain view of a smelting factory with KARL MARX painted on the side) spewing smoke and flames out of a huge smokestack. The next morning, we kept going and going and I thought I had missed my stop. Suddenly a woman yelled at me, 'SANCTI SPIRITUS, SANCTI SPIRITUS!!' at the top of her lungs (I was sure awake now) and pulled me off the train, dragging me and my luggage down the aisle... I thought she was a particularly persistent tout, but it turned out she wasn't; she just took me with her in a horse drawn carriage to the SS bus station, a fly blown concrete bunker painted with revolutionary slogans. Across the street was a heavily guarded CUBA RADIO station; complete with a RADIO REBELDES (Rebel Radio) sign! I waited there for about three hours until the bus to Trinidad left. I paid the guy behind the window $3 and was given a wellworn ticket.... Then, 3 hours later, I was taken to the 'bus'.... it was a dumptruck with welded seats and no roof! The ticket was taken away from me and I watched the other Cubans board.... they were paying in Pesos. It didnt hit me until later that I had been scammed: the 'ticket' was bogus and the fare, $3, was as well. Cubans were paying 1 peso, 5 cents, for the 3 hour busride... The 'bus' left and we were crammed in like sardines under the hot sun. I stood up in the end just to get some air.... eventually we got to Trinidad, and the woman who had been sitting next to me, turns out (surprise) had a casa where I could stay. It turned out to be her sister's house, with three rooms, and a nice veranda. I took a shower and took a nap, I woke up three hours later, I was so exhausted. Then I walked around Trinidad. Made rich by slaves, trade with Spain, and the sale of sugar, Trinidad is well on Cuba's tourist circuit. It is the country's best preserved 16th century colonial town, and the cobbled streets, (brought over as ballast from Spanish galleons) lines all the inner streets. I stayed in Trinidad for three days. It was a very beautiful town, well restored and beautifully decorated. The outskirts of Trinidad were another story: it was basicly a slum. The entire town was ringed by this and when you stepped outside of the colonial core, you were accosted by kids asking for soap, shampoo, t shirts and pens.... Trinidad was interesting for the contrast it gives to the disparity present in todays Cuba, brought about by the governments tourist policy. People lucky enough (or with the right connections) were given colonial houses, which can fetch as much as $50 a night rented to foreigners; those unlucky enough to be given a house in the slums has no access to the dollars freely available to those with colonial ones. The father in the casa I stayed at ate lobster almost every night I was there; 50 meters down the road, on the edge of town, people were begging for any thing tourists would throw away. That night, I went to the Casa de La Trova, a beautiful brick courtyard where a Cuban violinist played at the foot of a huge red tiled tower. Women in flowing white dresses danced under the stars and elegantly twirled around the open space changing partners as the music played on. It was as elegant as a Vienna waltz and you felt like you were in Spain. When the music changed to salsa, everyone got up and shook their bodies to the rhythm. Salsa is to Cubans what pasta is to Italy. Everyone can do it and they can all do it well!!! 5 year old kids are dancing salsa in kindergarten! If you ever go to Cuba, make sure you take a class before you go; (take some Spanish lessons, too.) Cubans will drag you up and expect you to dance, poor dancing is frowned on and they will not understand. With the economic situation removing all kinds of fun, dancing is free and everyone enjoys it, seven days a week, 365 days a year! Later that night, walking through the winding streets I followed the sound of African drums, pounded beneath a huge Banyan tree. 5 women wearing all white were dancing to the deep booming and thumping that the came from the massive drums; this was the other side of Cuba, the African culture from West Africa that was brought across the sea with slaves, many of whose first glimpse of their new home was right here in Trinidad. Most Afro Cuban culture is Yoruban, from the countries of Ghana and Nigeria. Santeria, a branch of Voodoo, is entrenched in all Cuban life. Any woman dressed all in white is being initiated. While I was in Havana, I visited a voodoo/Santeria priest and had my fortune told. Underneath garlands of chicken feathers, and in front of a bookcase stuffed with deer skulls, voodoo dolls and green beads, I threw shells and rocks onto a woven mat and the priest made a mark with his pen on their position; this went on for about 15 minutes until he signaled me to stop. He told me tons of things from my life, most of which were dead on the money. He also told me that I should be careful of the sea. Why, I asked. Chango, the god of the sea, wants the souls of people under my sign, and being an avid diver I was to be careful, especially of long sea voyages and travelling too far from the coast. He also said, more disturbingly, that my sign is prone to suicide, crying, and getting lost. Fortuately this did not frighten me as I knew it was just superstition. He also told me that to ensure safe travels, I could have a ceremony performed in the forest where a goat would be slaughtered, chickens would be sacrificed, and chants would be sung by women in white robes.... I declined and despite the superstition, I found the experience fascinating! The next morning I caught an ASTRO bus to Cienfuegos, where I stayed for two days, where I caught a Cuban baseball game between Havana and Cienfuegos; Havana won by 12 runs and killed CF, the players are paid $20 per month, and tickets cost 5 cents! The strange thing in walking into a Cuban stadium? There is no corporate sponsorship, no advertising for Coke, Budweiser or Coors; there are no overweight fans belching and stuffing their face with hotdogs. In their place are thousands of fans who lean forward in their seats when a ball is pitched and in true socialist fashion cheer both teams; and even balls that wind up in the stands are reverently returned to the pitcher and are not kept as souvenirs. Sitting in the stands I was asked where I came from, and kids eyes widened in recalling the stories their fathers told them of Mickey Mantle and Babe Ruth..... The morning after the game, I headed off to Santa Clara in a Lada that was so old and rickety that it swayed from side to side as we sped down the road, and the front seat was filled with a container of black market gasoline that was being driven to Santa Clara to sell. I didn't stay overnight in Santa Clara, I only spent the afternoon there, taking a tour of a cigar factory (where even the manager admitted I could get cigars cheaper from the ones stolen from workers than from the store that the factory ran across the street) I had a facinating tour of the cigar making process, where the leaves were brought in and washed, dried and cured; where the workers rolled cigars under paintings of Fidel smoking a cigar.... I also had a chance to visit the newly opened Che Guevara memorial and museum, honoring the man who, along Fidel's side, liberated Cuba from Batista and went on to lead revolutions in Angola and Bolivia before he was shot dead.