For Calgarians Craig and Kathy Copeland, cycling was the best route to
discovering the heart and soul of Cubans
The Canadian Embassy claims that about 500,000 Canadians visit Cuba each
year. It's not true. Oh, the number's accurate, but the statement's not.
Because very few of those Canadians actually visit Cuba.
They cluster within the confines of all-inclusive resorts that prohibit
Cuban guests. They spend their time exclusively with other Anglos,
particularly Stephen King, Danielle Steele, John Grisham and the like.
And they do it sprawling on beaches that Cubans, unless employed by the
resorts, are forbidden to set foot on.
It might be a vacation from Canada, but it hardly qualifies as "visiting
Cuba."
If you really want to visit Cuba, escape the crowded resorts. Explore
the island. Get to know the Cuban people by staying in their homes,
laughing with them, joining them for rice and beans. It's safe,
affordable, easy. You can do it with a rental car. You can do it by bus.
Better yet, do it on your bike.
Cycling eliminates all barriers between you and the people whose culture
you've come to admire.
It's an act of faith. It says "I'm not here to just look, I'm here to be
with you."
Cubans, a socially exuberant bunch, will love you for it. You'll come
home emotionally enriched for having truly visited these long-suffering
yet extraordinarily welcoming, generous, fun people.
Our Cuba cycling trip began last December when we arrived in Havana,
taxied to the casa particular (Cuban version of a B&B) where we'd
reserved a room months in advance, and discovered: no room for us.
We never learned why. Before we could engage our 100-word Spanish
vocabulary pasted together with Tarzan grammar, Cuban resourcefulness
and hospitality rescued us, as it would throughout our journey.
Neighbour spoke to neighbour who escorted us to another whose spacious,
clean, comfortable guestroom was vacant.
Our hosts, Orlando and Raisa, greeted us with warmth and grace. Both are
retired physicians. We were astounded to discover that Che Guevara had
been Orlando's comrade and patient throughout La Revolucion. Learning
about Cuban history and society from Orlando, who speaks fluent English,
was surreal.
After a day and night walking through Havana Vieja (old Havana), we
assembled our bikes on Orlando and Raisa's porch, loaded our panniers,
hugged our new friends goodbye, and pedalled out of the city.
We started late. Our day's mileage goal was too ambitious. The sun
winked below the horizon while we were in lonely rangeland, well shy of
the next town big enough to have a casa particular. We carried no tent
or sleeping bags, because camping is allowed only at a few widely
scattered campismos.
Riding into the dark was an option. We had headlamps. Cuban motorists
are marvellously considerate of cyclists. And most roads are paved. But
a single pothole could render a sophisticated bike irreparable in this
land of scarcity. So, on instinct, we approached the one house within view.
A woman was in the yard. We asked her an inane question because it was
all we could think to say: "Is there a casa particular nearby?" Her
answer was cryptically hopeful. "There might be," she said, then
retreated to consult her husband.
A moment later they emerged, opened the wrought-iron gate and invited us
in. Neither spoke a word of English. They motioned for us to push our
bikes right into their living room.
Both were shy, clearly unaccustomed to spandex-attired Anglo cyclists.
This was no casa particular, we realized. These people, Celia and Diego,
had never had foreign guests. Yet they ushered us in with sincerity and
assurance. No hesitation. No fear.
Celia was instantly concerned for my wife's comfort. She noticed Kathy's
cycling shoes were awkward on the tile floor. She left then returned,
offering a pair of flip flops. She noticed Kathy's shirt was damp. She
left then returned, offering a neatly folded, white cotton dress.
They didn't know we probably carried more in our panniers than they had
in their home. They didn't care. Celia insisted we sit while she made up
their extra bed. Then, despite our protests, she cooked us a delicious
dinner.
In the morning, she refused to let us depart without feeding us a hearty
breakfast. Where all this food came from, I don't know, because I peeked
into the kitchen and saw nothing.
We thanked them profusely and handed them the Cuban equivalent of 10
Canadian dollars -- about a month's salary for the average Cuban. They
refused it until we pleaded that money was the only gift we had to offer
in exchange for their immense kindness.
Celia cried as we left. No doubt she was worried for the crazy Anglos on
overloaded bikes who obviously didn't know what they were doing. At
least she'd made us keenly aware that we'd embarked on a profound
experience.
The cycling was brilliant: past sugar cane fields, through lively
villages, and along the ocean. The weather was comfortably hot and
consistently sunny. The meals prepared for us by the madres (mothers) at
every casa particular were heaping, tasty and fortifying.
We cycled from Havana west to Vinales. For an entire day, between Soroa
and La Tranquilidad, we were passed by just five vehicles while we
followed a ridgecrest road lined with an explosion of tropical greenery
and affording glimpses of the Caribbean far below. In the east, between
Bayamo and Santiago de Cuba, we cycled three 70-km days with the ocean
often in sight, the surf frequently audible, and vehicle traffic nil.
But in each hamlet we entered, someone immediately reminded us that
cycling wasn't the goal, it was merely the means. Our bikes propelled us
into the heart of this fascinating society and into the embrace of its
people.
They greeted us with smiles, waves, handshakes. They showered us with
attention, compassion, deference. They treated us like rock stars come
to town. They showed us that visiting Cuba only to escape the brunt of a
Canadian winter is an act of frigid indifference.
Twice more we were invited to stay with families who were as accustomed
to Anglo visitors as they were to Martian invaders. Each time, they
forced upon us the most lavish meal they could muster and the biggest
bedroom in the house.
So when a Canadian leaned out the window of a resort tour bus and asked,
"These people. Do they steal from you?" I was appalled.
Here was a man whose language I spoke yet whose question I could barely
comprehend. I groped for a response.
"Just the opposite," I finally said, then rode away.
Craig Copeland is the Opinionated Hiker columnist in the Herald's Real
Life section and co-author, with his wife Kathy, of numerous guidebooks
including Where Locals Hike in the Canadian Rockies
If You Go:
Getting there: Fly directly to Havana. The old city is enthralling and
it's farther west. That's the direction of the country's most rewarding
three- to four-day cycle tour, to Vinales, in a lush valley studded with
mogotes (limestone pinnacles). If you intend to cycle in the east,
consider a return flight to Canada from Santiago de Cuba.
Staying there: A casa particular is a private home licensed by the Cuban
government to rent rooms to foreign visitors. You'll find them in every
sizable town. Look for a green triangular symbol on the door. Expect to
pay $15 to $35 for a room for two. Book a casa in Havana before leaving
home. Elsewhere you'll find lots of vacancies. Just knock wherever you
see the green triangle. To make reservations at Orlando and Raisa's in
Havana, phone from Canada by dialing 011-53-7-830-3774. In Vinales, look
for Casa Maricella. In Bayamo, stay with Manuel and Lydia, at Donato
Marmol 323 Entre, Figueredo y Lora. In Santiago de Cuba, stay with Mayde
and Pedro in the Vista Alegre neighbourhood, at Calle 6, No. 302,
esquina 11. For a day or two of privacy and luxury, stay at the Hotel
Marea del Portillo, on the coast road southwest of Bayamo. It's an
all-inclusive resort, but it's small, isolated, and less expensive than
most, with rooms on the beach.
For more information: Visit http://users.pandora.be/casaparticular It
lists hundreds of casas throughout the country.
Travel Tips:
Food: Eating well is easy and inexpensive in Cuba. But cyclists won't
find convenient, nutritious snacks. Bring energy bars, plan to eat
breakfast and dinner at your casa particular. The food will likely be
excellent, and your host will keep the profit. A typical casa breakfast
-- fresh fruit juice, sliced pineapple and bananas, bread, butter, jam,
an omelette, and robust coffee -- will cost about $4 per person. You'll
pay about twice that for a fish dinner with bean soup, tomato and
cabbage salad, rice and beans, and fried plantains.
Water: Cubans are as health and hygiene conscious as Canadians. But
their plumbing is ancient and occasionally suspect. Bottled water is
widely available, but for savings and convenience bring a water filter
or purification drops.
Transportation: Viazul provides punctual bus service to 32 towns and
cities. You'll ride in a modern, comfortable, Volvo coach. Your bike
will ride in a spacious storage compartment. A ticket for the three-hour
trip from Havana to Vinales costs $15. A ticket for the 14-hour trip
from Havana to Santiago de Cuba costs $62. Check schedules at
www.viazul.cu, but wait to reserve seats and buy tickets when you're in
Cuba.
Money: Bring at least $500 cash to exchange at the airport currency
exchange office. Don't purchase a Transcard, because many banks and
hotels won't honour it. Instead, use your credit card to get cash
advances at banks. There are two currencies in Cuba: the peso for
Cubans, and the peso convertible for visitors. One peso convertible is
roughly equivalent to one U.S. dollar.
Language: Outside Havana, few people speak English. Bring a Spanish
phrase book and do your best.
Sights: Founded in 1512, on the south coast, east of Cienfuegos, the
city of Trinidad is one of the best-preserved colonial towns in all of
the Americas. It's small -- just a few square blocks of cobblestone
streets crowded with pastel coloured homes, churches and plazas -- but
so impressive that it was named a UNESCO World Heritage Site.
Gifts: Cuban children habitually seek gifts from visitors. Bring
notepads, pens and crayons. In most towns you'll also see medical
clinics, all of which need basic supplies. Bring them ibuprofen, aspirin
or anti-bacterial ointment.
Guides: Bicycling Cuba, by Wally and Barbara Smith, is the one book
you'll want in your panniers. It contains maps, detailed route
descriptions, casa addresses, and advice on planning your trip.
Politics: Fearing government reproach, Cubans are hesitant to discuss
politics in general or Fidel Castro in particular. Besides, fluency in
Spanish is necessary to probe beyond the superficial. To begin
understanding this complex island nation, read Ben Corbett's This is
Cuba and Isaac Saney's Cuba: A Revolution in Motion.
Finding the real Cuba (14 September 2009)
http://www.canada.com/travel/Finding+real+Cuba/803927/story.html
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