Cuban BLog Day #11 Pink Taxis

I only needed one day in Bayamo. It’s a great, quaint city, but it’s tiny and there’s not much to do on a second day.  I suppose if I were to do the trip again I would skip Bayamo, but then I would have missed out on Alberto and his seemingly endless shots of Havana Club at Bar Esquina.

So I was off to another town on another bus. This time my destination was the town of Holguin, though I didn’t plan to stay long there. It was a short one and a half hour bus ride to Holguin, barely time to sleep.

Once at the bus station the most incredible rain began to fall. I’ve never seen anything like it. It came on so quickly and so heavy all at once.  It forced me to decide fast to take my first taxi to the town of Gibara, about half an hour away on the coast.

The taxi was a 1950’s pink Ford. It was beautiful, from the outside at least. The inside left a lot to the imagination and was comprised of several parts from other cars.  The driver was quite proud of this and told me all about which part was replace when.

The rain let up right as we arrived in the town.  I had a casa picked out from the guide book since I wasn’t arriving at a bus station this time. But, easily enough, the taxi driver knew someone who knew someone and I was taken to a casa closer to the center of town than the casa I had chosen. 

This casa was grand!  It was closer to a mansion than a house, with two story ceilings and a foyer large enough to occupy four sofas and several chairs, all placed about in separate sitting areas. I’ve never seen anything like it, especially because the style of the furniture was from what appeared to be the 1940’s. I was sold. 

After getting situated in the room, I went walking to see the beach and the ocean.  I had come to Gibara because I wanted more beach time and Holguin, which the guide recommended, just sounded like another big city to me. I splurged a bit on lunch at a rooftop restaurant with a view of the sea. I tried aguja, swordfish or needle in Cuban Spanish, for the first time and really enjoyed it.

After lunch, I went to a fancy hotel to find out about the ferry to take the next day to the beach. He spoke excellent English and knew all the details I needed to know to get to the beach. I went back to the casa and wrote in the sky filled courtyard.

I walked to the tiny beach in town and watched the sunset. Afterwards, I set out looking for a restaurant to have dinner. I was approached by a woman in the street asking if I had eaten yet, telling me she had excellent food and listing off everything she had along with very cheap prices. I kept walking to see all my options, but eventually returned to her, though it was hard to find her again. It was simply her house. There was no sign out front telling me it was a restaurant, and I nearly passed by it, till she came running after me. I am quite certain she is not government sponsored like restaurants and casas are supposed to be.

She walked me through her tiny house, where I sat under a giant umbrella roof made of coconut fronds. She was so friendly and very talkative. I felt for the first time like I was having a true, full conversation in Spanish.  She told me about her boy, her well, how her husband prepares all the food, how she works in cahoots with a friend who works at the nice hotel I went to earlier.  She said her friend will send guests to her when they get tired of paying $20 for a meal.  She gives her friend a kickback.  She tells me everyone raves about her food. I too, was impressed with the meal, but more so by the company.