Cuban Blog Day#5 F#$%ing Bull Sh#t, Happy Hour is Not Just an Hour and Women Are Friendlier, so Ask Them

The night before, when I arrived at the casa, Teresa told me another couple had arrived.  They were going to Baracoa the next day too. I’d hoped to share a taxi with them, but as every taxi has a drive and a shotgunner along for the ride, there would be no room for all 4 of us and our bags.

I had breakfast at the casa in the morning where I met the other gringos- Americans from California. My heart sank a bit as I’d grown fond of believing we were the only Americans crazy enough to get here illegally.  Of course, I knew this wasn’t the case, but I’d have liked to have held onto the idea a little bit longer.

We took a taxi to the bus terminal. I’d made reservations the day before, though you simply make the reservation and still have to pay the day of. I do not know if it is really necessary to make the reservation or not. I paid for the tickets and waited about an hour. Jimmie went to check our bags and for the first time was asked to pay for the bags to go below. A German ahead of him had apparently had enough of this and told Jimmie this was ‘F#@$ing bull sh#t’ (always fun to hear foreigners swear in English and this little phrase became our motto for the rest of the trip. Of course, said in a German English accent.)  Jimmie simply handed the attendant whatever coins he had instead of the $1CUC each he requested.

It was a five hour bus ride which I managed to sleep on most of the way. We passed by Guantánamo and then stopped at a roadside place where we were able to purchase chocolate, famous in Baracoaand cuchurcho- a mixture of dried coconut, sugar, honey and various fruits all wrapped nicely in a cone of palm frond. These were our first purchases in pesos nationals.

The way there is very windy with a series of switchbacks to make our way over the mountain to the isolated town of Baracoa. We arrived, surprisingly, only about a half hour later than what the guide had told us. There we had a casa owner waiting for us. Teresa had called ahead. He had our names on a sign. I felt very important. It was raining when we arrived, and at first we tried to wait out the rain.  Finally, the owner decided it was not worth waiting and our suitcases were secured onto a bicitaxi with a small flap to protect them from the rain. We then ran out to the bike and more flaps were secured around us. I felt so bad for the driver.

We soon arrived at a casa which was not the one we had thought. I was told his was full and we were therefore taken to this one. Nelsy was very friendly if not a bit pushy, or more on the side of aggressive about eating in her casa because no where else was better. We simply had a room this time, no apartment. It had a stocked fridge, which later we would come to be very grateful for. The terrace was incredible. Nelsy said it was the biggest in all of Baracoa. It was half covered which was great for me to write and even had sun loungers. The sea was everywhere.

We got situated and went walking towards the square where we had a small snack and a few beers. The gringos passed us and told us of a tour they’d be taking in two days.  We decided to join them.

 

We walked to the malecón (I do not know the word for this in English. I like this idea. Any word I ever learn for the first time, I only ever know it in the language I learn it in. This is true, for yuca, tamarindo and cenote. I think the closest word we have for malecón is boardwalk, though it is still not correct.) There we found a cute little happy hour place with Adirondackchairs on the lawn facing the ocean. The sign out front said ‘Happy Hour- 4-6’. It was just past 6. We asked if we could still get the half priced drinks. The man said no. The women upstairs said yes. We stayed. We sat in the chairs facing the sea and watched the sun set into the ocean.

We returned to the casa for dinner, upon Nelsy’s urging. I had my first lobster. The whole meal included soup, rice and salad which consists of the best tomatoes ever, including my mother’s homegrown in the summer (sorry mom). I’m quite addicted to them. There was also dessert.  I’ve yet to see cheviche which is a bit of a disappointment. 

After dinner, we walked to the center to try and find a party. We met a German who said he was getting rum and coke to bring to La Trova. He pointed where it was. It was quite happening with people from everywhere spilling out into the streets because there was no longer room inside where the live music was blasting.

 

 

Traveling Tip #6- They will ask you for money to put your bags below the bus. This is optional at best. You already paid your ticket. Do not do this. It didn’t make any difference as far as how our bags were treated and it is simply another way to take advantage of stupid gringos.

 

Traveling Tip #6 and #7 These two tips go hand in hand as far as how I discovered them.  Be sure to ask, you never know anything until you ask. I would have never stayed for happy hour had I not asked if it could perhaps be extended. Most of the time, especially, I imagine while traveling in low season, people just want your money and if that means giving you happy hour prices beyond happy hour times, they will do that to make you happy. I also found throughout my travels that asking a woman generally led to better results, so whenever you can ask a woman. If you ask a man and get an answer you don’t like, find a woman to ask. This may also be true in real life as well.