Mar 2007

This is wierd, I haven´t studied to this extent for many many years, but after the last year of stagnating at work it really is quite refreshing to be challenged again and learn some new things. I guess its even easier when your classroom looks like this:

I am currently enroled for 3 weeks at http://www.sanpedrospanishschool.org with a brilliant maestro called Julio, and living with a family up the hill in town for complete imersion style learning. His style of teaching of chatting all day then remembering that we should maybe write a verb or two on the board suits me down to the ground, as you learn so much by speaking constantly without the parrot style memorisation normally associated with learning.

Normal day is up at 7 for breakfast with the family, then in school from 8-12, quick lunch with the family then back to school to teach (well, ish, was meant to be teaching them long division today but do you know how to do that?! my answer was ´adults use calculators´) in a volunteer project for proper poor kids from 2-5, despùes another hour of class followed by either a lecture on Guatemalan culture or salsa classes, dinner with the family at 7 leaves my brain like jelly but I´ve learnt more in a day than I would in months of classes in london! Its not all dossing around on beaches out here you know...

A little tangent back to the world of work seems apropriate now to explain where I´m at with my study: a wise women once explained a kind of learning curve graph to me, but for the life of me I can´t remember what the axis´s were, think it was something like ability/ knowledge or vice versa. But in essence the red area where I am now can be sumorised to ´a little knowledge is a dangerous thing´.

Today it really applied as after a week or so of study I have got a vague grasp of the language and lost my initial inhibitions of keeping to simple things like ´hello´, and got some rather strange looks when I supposidly asked if I could sleep with my neighbors cat.

p.s. if you´re reading this then please remind me what it was all about, I was listening honest ;-)

At last I managed to leave the Mohitos behind and actually get on a plane, for a short hop across the carribean to a landing skimming the roofs of Guatemala City, and it only got more sketchy from there on in...

Guatemala City is hyped in the guide books as being a a bit of a nasty place, but the book of lies always said that so I wasn´t too fazed with all the shotgun toting guards out side EVERY shop (ok it was a little wierd to see a shoe shop protected by a 12 bore) however getting my first chicken bus of the trip out of their was quite an experience.
There were only 10 of us on the bus from the main bus station, all locals and myself so was a little confused when I was told (in pictionary style gestures cos my spanish couldn´t quite cope) when they motioned to lay down. I didn´t really need to sleep and wanted to see the city on the way out so stayed sitting up, only when the driver floored it out of the bus station and screamed something at me which even with the lack of vocabulary I could pretty much guess at ´get your f*cking head down´ I actually complied. Only being able to see the roofs of buildings from where I was lying I can only guess at why we needed to boost it out of the city in such a manor, but after 20 mins of jumping trafic lights we stop to pick the rest of the passengers sensibly waiting outside the danger zone on the outskirts of the city.

When I could eventually raise my head I was in for quite a shock change from the stunted growth of Cuba, this place was just a more crazy baby brother of America. McDs on every corner, giant Explorers and Escalades, and even a Hooters! (am going to have to go back to check that out for research purposes).
Leaving the city 4 hours of climbing into the highlands with the temperature dropping rapidly, I wished that the rest of my clothes weren´t on the roof, but the body heat from the 5 other people crammed onto the same seat kept the hypothermia at bay. Eventually dropping down out of the mist I had my first glimse of Lago Atitilan

Rather enthusiatically after a 15 hour travel day already I signed up for school then checked in to the friendlyest looking hostel going as after the drout of travellers in cuba it was nice to chat to someone in english for a bit. Luckily the next day the school was running an excursion up to the ´indians nose´ (i´ve found in my travels most will make any mountain look like a face/ nose/ camel just to get stupid tourists to climb it) but the views from the top were certainly worthwhile

dropping down off the hill into the local market town for some locals snacks was a dangerous experience, but not the sort mentioned in the guide books. Guatemalan people are generally of quite short stature and thats coming from me... and they tend to make the roofs of their stalls only just big enough for them, so most of us returned from the market sporting a nice array of roof shaped injuries...

the dress of the local people is massively colourful as they are desended from the original Mayan culture, with the patterns and styles indicating which tribe they belong to in the same was as tartan.

with even the children getting into the act from an early age

there were so many more photo opportunities around, but without asking and most times paying first, these people don´t really appreciate the intrusion.

Cienfuegos is an unispiring little town, especially after being spoilt with the recent delights of Trinidad, however Rancho Luna is only a short hustler-plied taxi ride away on the coast which is definately worth a visit.

Strangely the least friendlyest of all the casa´s so far, but that´s not an insult as the standard is so high, but the first place with local ´slaves´running the casa whilst the rich plantation owner sat in his own section of the house.

The beach being one of the nicest encountered so far, not being overshaddowed by monsterous hotels and the only place in the country where casa´s are allowed alongside. Only finding a perfect reef 100m offshore with sights comparable to many 20m+ dive sites, the setting was perfect for chilling for the few days.

Santa clara, the most cosmopolitan town found so far, is the honourary home of Che as much of the local graffiti shows

as it was the stage for the first major victory of the revolution. Now, since his remains were discovered after his murder in Bolivia, there is a plaza commemorating his and the others fight

After the fiasco with the flight the few spare days and my birthday was spent in Havana´s neglected cousin Matanza, which lies at the base of the Verado peninsular and provides a more authentic experience than the 5* all inclusive resorts up the coast. Unfortunately as I found there was little of interest apart from the train journey there through some dramatic scenery.

Even the beaches were out of action at the time as strong winds had blown hundreds of blue-bottle jellyfish onto the beach, and after Davers unfortunate stingger-bollock incident in Auz I wasn´t going to chance it. Highlight of the day though was the taxi driver trying to take a shortcut through a tunnel to save petrol (barely wide enough ride a motorbike) and getting us so wedged that we had to climb out of the back window and unscrew the bumper before we could reverse out again.

The two systems existing in this country are so distinct and separated you probably don´t know they even exist. Its pretty much tourist aparthied.
You would need years here to fully understand the implications socialism has on this society, however spending more time with the locals you find there is a whole other world away from the much photographed salas bands and che grafitti.

As with all comunist/ socialist systems knowledge=power=freedom and so to control the population you just have to simply prevent them from finding anything out about the outside world or have the outside world find out about them. Internet access is banned (although some houses are allowed email), education is free-but all books are written by the state so much biased; but most of all they don´t want the 2 systems (that is the tourists and locals) to interact.

Talk to the people and you will find for the few that idolise Fidel the majority detest him and their way of life that has been forced upon them. They are so repressed they leave in the hundreds every night (in organised boats) from all over the country and keep trying until they either get to the US or they die. If they get caught the penalties are severe and the risks great, but for many this is the only option despite the possible consequences.
They party does not want this know and go to great lengths to enforce it ´for the security of tourists´. The segregation is so great that Cubans are pretty much banned from talking to tourists, so much so that one night out drinking on the Malecon with some local amigos over the space of 6 hours or so, all were arrested for varying excuses then released hours later without and reason, some even twice; our protestations they they were our friends only made the situation and our guilt even worse.

So what is the future? Who knows. But possibly the new mans Che/ Fidel starting a new revolution is inevitable.

A mamouth trek across the country exchanges rolling hillocks for more structured farmland and arable plantations; although the pastel colours remain their pantones are on the bolder side.

The cobbled streets of Trinidad are more of a tourist destination than Vinales, although amazingly confusing to navigate having been designed to flumux pirate raids when the town was first born, with the size of the colonial properties around reflecting Trinidads old position as the centre of the sugar industry. With the wealth contained in the houses completely disproportional to peoples wages it is quite a supprise to see antiques that would make David Dickinson wet his pants.
We found a beautiful 3 story casa with 2 massive roof terraces

overlooked by and ancient mango tree, where we would eat all our meals for the next few days, and so much marble in it that even the banister up the stairs was handcrafted out of a single piece.

Everyone here is an artist of sorts, be it a painter in one fo the many galleries, a musican in one of the many bands around town, or a barmaid who came up with this beauty ### which promptly wipped me out for an hour as it was about 50% alcohol!. Although after discovering that a bottle of rum was only 80p we soon made some good combinations of our own...

Needing another break from the relentless heat the next day was a pleasent cruise on a cat

to Cayo Blanco, 15kms off the coast. A beautiful white sand island populated by hundreds of hermit crabs

and iguanas, with some great snorkling on the reef just off shore.

Hooking up with a few others that evening we felt the safety in numbers needed to find the cave club. You know those spelunking trips you did at school, well the Cubans have found a decent alternative where you don´t have to crawl around in bat shit - a full on 200person club in a cave with lazers and everything. 100m undergound it is like something out of the lost boys where you´re expecting Kiether Sutherland bitiing your neck at any moment. Shame about the music which was a bizzare take on Cuban R&B, it would be an awesome place to hold a full on party.
A relaxing strole through the local mountains the next day

and a swim in the waterfall

cleansed out any remenants of a hangover the night before, then a bike tour (on particularly shoddy bikes) to Playa Ancon for a last bit of snorkling in the Trinidad region.

I'm starting to think that I should register all the stuck_in_* addresses just in case of these eventualities. For those that know of the Australian fiasco, it wasn't quite as bad as that but nearly as stupid...

I was meant to be in Guatemala now, chilling on a lake before starting my spanish course tomorrow, however fate (or more acurately the Cuban system) was against me. I got to the airport well in advance, knowing how much queuing goes on around here, and checked in with plenty of time to spare so sat down with a coffee to do some swatting up on the country.
Just as I was packing up to go through to departures the nice man that checked me in found me and the conversation went something as follows:

cuban: 'you plane has left'
me: 'sorry?"
cuban: 'you have missed you flight'
me: 'no I haven't'
cuban: 'thats it on the runway'
me: 'bugger'
me: 'but its still got an hour to go before it leaves!!'
cuban: 'no, the clocks changed last night and we haven't updated the ones in the airport yet'
me: 'raaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh'

and so on...

I tried to book another flight, but the ones that are running are completly full, so I'm stuck around here until thursday when I'm going to pretty much chain myself to the f*cking plane so it can't leave without me this time.

oh well, not as bad as my friend who just spent the last 2 days in jail for trying to repremand a guy who stole his wallet, and wasn't allowed to call anyone to give him bail...

(and yes there were probably anouncments, but they're never for you are they?!)

going to drink rum now, and lots of it

Leaving the hustle and bustle of Havana behind it's a short hop on a perfectly air-conditioned tourist bus to the Valleys of Vinales.

Every country has its own take on the mellow chill-out town, and Vinales is the best of the many the Cuba has to offer. Where as it may not have all the hippy prerequists of other Caribean islands it makes up with the pure friendliness of the people. Rocking chairs come as standard with the houses and in the evenings everyone sits on their porch watching the world go by.

Moving from the initial tourist hotel into the more Cuban Casa Particular (essentially just a B+B) was a pleasant change, the people are great and the food superb (apart from the birthday cake which pretty much consists of magnolia flavoured sugar meringue)

A moped ride is a must in any country and the afternoon was spent checking out the mogottes and authentic cave paintings…

Although the next days horse-trecking allowed things to be seen at a slightly more sedate pace.

The major product in these hills is tobacco and the plantations stretched on for miles

interspersed only with sugar cane to keep the local rum drinkers watered. Telling people you don't smoke in Cuba brings about a strange look as Cigars are the norm in these parts, might have to get me one just to chew on for that authentic Clint look

Breaking in to the local resort to cool down in their pool was a life saver, along with the next days adventure to the coast and Cayo Levisa. Although the tranquility of most of Cuba's best beaches is spoilt by the resort hotels that take up much of the sands and views. Even the concept of ripping off a captive market is not lost of these people with even a bottle of water costing 3x as much as it does on the mainland.

The story begins in the home of quality rum, Buena Vista Social Club and shaking salsa booties; and even at a glance you can see how all compliment each other perfectly.

An early morning strole along the Malecon

, the 10km stretch of sea-wall sheltering Havana (though not always the tourists) from the worst of the storms, is where a lot of Cubans come to meet and pasty English tourists are easy to spot by the local jineteros (hustlers). With the promise of Buena Vista Social Club playing in their old haunts for óne day only' being too hard to resist I took a wander with 'John' into Centro Havana. Ok it was blatantly a lie, but in my experience the best way to see the true side of a country rather than the tourist façade is with a local, and even paying them $1-2 is a lot cheaper than I would get for a 1-1 spanish lesson in London.

You can easily see the wealth that was prevalent in this place

that has made it what it is now, but with the last few years of fighting and trade embargos everything has been neglected and so most places are in quite a state of disrepair, and when you see people queing at the ration shop for their weekly supply of rice, eggs and maize you know this is the real deal.

We go for a mohito in Bar Pekin, one of Buena Vista Social Club's favourite places, and after paying we leave but he returns to the bar for his commission. On returning this to me he explains how tourists are charged double if they are with a Cuban; maybe he's a nice guy after all?

The thing you can't miss is the beautiful cars

they're everywhere and obiously without any replacement parts coming in the resourceful engineering keeping them going is a testament to Cubans throughout the country.

Its hard to keep from shouting McFly and hitching a lift on the back of them on my hoverboard…

The next day is was over to the other side of the harbor to visit the Fortulazee San Carlos + lighthouse by cunningly joining on to the tail of an American tour group (they are good for something afterall!)

A lot more peaceful place although the metal detectors and body searches getting the ferry back across the harbor from Casablanca was strange (are they seriously worried about people hijacking the boat for passage to florida?!)

A tour and samples at the Havana Club rum factory put me in good stead to sample the pretty but more touristy parts of Havana Vieja (old town) before watching the sun set over the Malecon with the locals

The last part of the Havana tour is into the main revolutionary sites. Including the Havana Libre hotel where Fidel ran the country from the 23 rd floor

and the massive Plaza commemorating the revolution

Noticing a lot of people wandering around with bundles of plantain it was cool to stumble across the monthly locals market where produce is shipped in from the surrounding provinces, but even with the masses of food on offer there were still the obligatory queues for everything.