Island Way, Georgetown, Grand Cayman, Cayman Islands. 8 April 2001
Well, we predicted a lengthy e-mail blackout, but we didn’t imagine that it would last over 4 months. But then, we had no idea that we’d end up spending a lot more than two months in Cuba!
Our last letter, in November, was written en route for Bonaire, the easternmost of the three Dutch Antilles islands to the north of Venezuela. After the often third-world character of Venezuela, it made a refreshing change to be in the spotlessly clean and safe streets of the capital, Kralendijk, with its 40 mooring buoys neatly spaced along the shallow, narrow shelf which borders the waterfront. Happily, we did not need to find out what happens if you are the 41st boat to arrive - anchoring is prohibited (and is in any case impossible around most of Bonaire’s coastline, which shelves steeply and rockily to depths far deeper than any length of anchor chain), so presumably boat number 41 has to continue on westwards to Curacao or Aruba! Bonaire’s principal claims to tourist fame are its crystal clear water and fabulous scuba diving on near-vertical coral-strewn walls. A day’s snorkelling convinced us that its reputation is well justified, though some of the shallower areas of coral had been quite badly damaged by the 1999 late-season Hurricane Lenny.
On 27 November, the forecast conditions seemed right for the voyage to Cienfuegos in Cuba, about 1,100 miles to the northwest: winds blowing between 20 and 25 knots from the east and no sign of any significant disturbance in the weather pattern for the forseeable future. A comfortable, speedy crossing was in prospect. Of ‘speedy’ there was no doubt - but ‘comfortable’?? It’s all relative, we suppose! The first couple of days were interspersed with squalls, bringing heavy rain, wind strengths of up to 40 knots and waves that looked a good deal higher than the 8 feet predicted. However, at least the wind was in the right direction, and we found ourselves averaging 7.5 knots (8.5 mph) or more, and as time wore on we found that the rolly motion wasn’t so bad after all - though one particularly big wave saw Barbara hurtling in free-fall from the galley into the cabin on the opposite side of the boat (luckily with no more than a painful egg on the head and multicoloured bruise on the backside to show for it). After four days we were midway between Jamaica and Cuba with thunder and lightning rumbling and flashing uncomfortably close to us - the precursor to the unforecast tropical wave which, from the reports on the Jamaican radio stations, was expected to bring torrential rain and flooding from Kingston to Montego Bay. As it happened, the tropical wave remained to the south of us, though only just, and the following night we were treated to a spectacular display of pyrotechnics on the southern horizon. Jamaica got very wet while we didn’t.
We reached the entrance to Cienfuegos harbour just after dark, five and a half days after leaving Bonaire, and feeling very pleased with our 7.2 knot overall average speed. Prudence - and tiredness - dictated that we should not try to enter a strange harbour in the dark, so we hove to to await the dawn, and early on 3 December motored past the Garda Frontera post with its welcoming ‘BIENVENIDOS A CUBA SOCIALISTA’ written in huge letters along the wall.
Our arrival at the Marina Jagua set the tone for the rest of our stay in Cuba - the friendliest and most welcoming we have ever had. The General Manager, Public Relations Manager and Dockmaster were lined up to greet us and secure our lines to the dock, and were followed at intervals during the next couple of hours by officials from the Ministry of Health, Immigration, Customs, Agriculture, Frontier Guard and Port Authority, all equally pleasant. In the four months that we spent in Cuba, with numerous clearances into and out of the three main ports we used (Cienfuegos, Cayo Largo and Casilda), we found all the officials to be exceptionally friendly and polite and we shall miss the ritual removal of government-issued boots before any of them stepped on board! In fact the warmth of the people wherever we went more than made up for the often woefully inadequate facilities available. Our smattering of Spanish, acquired in Merida, Venezuela, helped enormously with communication, and we found everyone very patient with our barbaric grammar, and willing to discuss all aspects of life in Cuba.
Cienfuegos turned out to be an excellent choice of landfall, becoming the jumping-off point for all our travels in Cuba, and, like a magnet, it attracted us back no less than four times. It’s a charming city with a very relaxed atmosphere. In common with all Cuban cities, its beautiful old buildings have seen better days, and many are in desperate need of restoration, but one rapidly learns to appreciate that in an economy as poor as Cuba’s, building restoration takes fairly low priority. The 2-km cycle ride into town along the seafront was a constant source of delight, with other cyclists forming the majority of the traffic. Other road users include the horse drawn carts which constitute Cienfuegos’s public taxi system (1 peso - equivalent to 3p or 5 cents - per ride, though prohibited to foreigners) and an astonishing variety of 1950s American cars which somehow are held together and kept working with locally-manufactured spare parts and post-50s diesel engines. Driving was slow and courteous, and we never saw anything that came close to a traffic jam. The centre of the dual carriageway leading into town had shady trees and park benches, and every evening they were filled with people - old men playing dominoes; family groups out for a stroll; youngsters in skimpy lycra giving each other the eye. We quickly learned to recognise the proximity of an ice-cream vendor - every other Cuban walking down the street clutching a cone in each hand - and readily queued the few minutes necessary to pay our 1 peso for two cones containing the best ice-cream we’ve tasted for many years.
Our first destination after arrival was Casilda, a rather scruffy little fishing town 40 miles away, with an equally scruffy marina (in reality a small mangrove-encircled lagoon with enough pier space to bring the dinghy alongside, but not the boat, which had to remain anchored in the middle of the lagoon). Our reason for going there was that it was five minutes’ walk from the Hotel Ancon, where Barbara’s mother and friend Gordon had booked a two-week holiday just before Christmas. Despite the lack of normal marina facilities, the arrangement worked very well, as we were able to spend plenty of time with Wynn and Gordon at the hotel, using the swimming pool and the hotel’s very fine stretch of beach; and they were able to visit us on Island Way in her serene isolation in the lagoon! Casilda also has the advantage of being close to one of Cuba’s principal attractions - the colonial city of Trinidad. Originally founded in 1514, Trinidad thrived in the early 19th century as the centre of a prosperous sugar industry, but by the end of the century, with the abolition of slavery and the increase in European-grown sugar beet, its prosperity had gone into decline and the city now remains frozen in time, still with its cobbled streets and red-tiled roofs (and UNESCO World Heritage status which provides some of the cash for the much-needed restoration of the city centre). The lack of traffic (to an even greater extent than in Cienfuegos, horse-drawn carts and bicycles are the norm) adds to its charm, for visitors at least, if not for Trinidad residents themselves. The sight of the bread-delivery cart and the potable water tanker, both pulled by horses, will remain in the memory for a long time, as will the squealing pig being unwillingly tied into a box on the carrier of its owner’s Chinese-made bicycle! The occasional Mercedes or Volvo tourist bus made an incongruous contrast, a reminder of the modern world not far away.
We were unable to track down any public celebrations of Cuba’s new millennium (for Cuba, the start of the new millennium was 1 January this year, not last) taking place within easy reach, and we had a fairly low-key celebration at anchor in yet another norther, with cold 25-knot winds ushering in the new year. Friends joined us for ten days in early January, and the weather finally improved to give us nearly a week of glorious sunshine and light winds.
Back in Cienfuegos, a trip to the bus station to buy two $20 tickets to Havana was intercepted by Francisco Barbaro, a young Cuban ‘entrepreneur’ who quickly persuaded us that his friend Diego’s Lada was a much better bet than the bus - and he was right. $50 gave us speedy door-to-door service from the marina in Cienfuegos to the apartment of Fefita and Luis 280 km away in Old Havana (another $50 bringing us back two days later). They run a ‘Casa Particular’, one of Castro’s concessions to a freer economy, which allows Cubans with spare rooms in their homes to operate a B & B service. Once we had overcome the problem of the door-bell-less entrance door and found our way up to the fourth floor, we were given a warm welcome and the keys to a very comfortable room (and the entrance door!). We spent the next two days walking miles around Havana visiting everything from the Plaza de la Revolucion with its giant slogans and rather bleak monuments, to the incredibly elaborate tombs in the city cemetery and the stately fortresses and buildings of the first Spanish settlers. A highlight of our stay was an evening at the Grand Theatre watching Cuba’s National Modern Ballet - front row stalls for $10 each and a performance that held us both spellbound from start to finish.
We had intended to leave Cuba from the south-eastern city of Santiago towards the end of January, to allow enough time to get back across the Caribbean to Colombia, from where we were going to fly back to the UK for John’s mother’s 80th birthday celebrations in mid-February. So, somewhat reluctantly, we set off on 18 January, planning a few stops en route in the Jardines de la Reina, another chain of islands to the south-east of Cienfuegos. However, 36 hours of adverse winds and minor disasters changed our plans! The first misfortune was running aground on some very solid rock at the edge of a narrow channel through the reef into what promised to be a lovely anchorage. Happily, the labours of 90 minutes, using anchor and windlass and, eventually, the full genoa to heel the boat over, were sufficient to drag her off into 14 feet of water just as night was setting in and the wind was increasing. Only minor damage was sustained to Island Way’s keel, which was more than could be said for her crew’s morale, pride and confidence!! Next day, we set off for Portillo, about 100 miles to the south-east, but the wind grew steadily stronger and more and more against us until we could no longer sail, and the waves grew bigger so that bashing into them under engine made life on board more uncomfortable than anything we had experienced so far - at which point one of the anchors on the bow, encouraged by a larger-than-usual wave, decided to jump ship, ending up hanging from its chain just above the waterline and threatening to gouge large holes in the side of the boat. Luckily the first ‘ding’ against the bow alerted us to what had happened, and the anchor was quickly rescued and properly re-secured before serious damage could be done. At this stage, with wind, current and waves all against us, and a black, black night above us, we decided enough was enough. We hove to until morning then headed for shelter in what turned out to be one of our favourite spots, a small island called Cachiboca. At this point a little re-planning seemed in order - and we concluded that we were fast running out of time to get to Colombia, that we had enjoyed the good weather days (and many of the bad) in Cuba so much that it was a shame to be leaving anyway, that there were perfectly good flights from Havana to London, and it made far more sense to go back to Cienfuegos where we knew we could safely leave the boat, fly to England then come back and have another few weeks in Cuba before heading south again. Which is what we did. Octogenarian celebrations went very well, and we were really glad that we had been able to get back for them.
On our return to Cuba six weeks ago, we found a marked improvement in the weather - warmer, sunnier, less windy and altogether more in line with our original expectations. We spent most of our time revisiting the islands off the south coast and doing various bits of boat maintenence, including the major task of stripping the tired old varnish from the exterior teak-work. In between island hops, however, we found time to see a bit more of mainland Cuba, including a bicycle trip to the botanical gardens not far from Cienfuegos, originally set up by an American sugar baron at the turn of the century, then handed over to Harvard University and now being well cared for by the State. An unplanned side-trip to a nearby sugar factory led us to the maintenance depot for the plantation’s small fleet of 1920s (and earlier) Philadelphia-built steam locomotives which still operate the railway network bringing cane to the factory. Apparently Cuba still has nearly 300 steam engines in operation - a great tribute to the Cubans’ skill and ingenuity in manufacturing parts which have long since ceased to be available. We also cycled a bit further afield, to Santa Clara, 70 km away, where there is a most impressive tomb and monument to Che Guavara. From there, we visited Remedios, a small town near the north coast,as delightful as Trinidad and so far not on the Mercedes/Volvo tourist bus circuit. We returned to Cienfuegos by a different route; much more attractive, taking us through numerous little villages, but also much more hilly - a stern test for our somewhat unaccustomed legs! On 26 March, faced with renewal of our visas or departure, we decided that the time had come to leave, so checked out with our friends in Immigration, Customs, Garda Frontera and Port Authority and headed slowly south-east back to Cachiboca from where we finally made our departure from Cuba nine (not strictly legal!) days later.
We have said very little about the economic conditions of the people living under what is still a totalitarian Socialist regime. Materially, most Cubans have very little. Salaries, even for professional people, are often as low as 200 pesos per month ($10, or £7). The lobster fishermen at Cachiboca, with whom we became very good friends, are paid the equivalent of $35 per TON of lobsters (of which 20 per cent is now paid in US dollars). Cubans cannot buy beef or lobster, all production of which is for the tourist market or for export. Until recently, farm produce was not able to be privately sold, though now a limited amount of private enterprise is permitted, and we came across numerous small market gardens, and fruit, vegetable and pork markets in all the larger towns. On the positive side, in spite of their low salaries no Cuban goes hungry. Everyone is allocated rations of the basics of rice, sugar, bread etc at incredibly low subsidised prices. Housing is allocated by the State (as are jobs) and again power and water, (though not always available 24 hours a day!) are very cheap. In addition, free (compulsory for school-age children) education , is available to all right through to university level, and appears to be of a very high standard. It even extends to adults who might, for example, want to learn a language or a musical instrument. The health service is also free and instantly available to all (though it does suffer from acute shortages of equipment and drugs). The Cubans we met, in many different walks of life, seemed to be contented and very proud of their country, and aware that although conditions are pretty tough, they are far better for the vast majority than they would have been under the previous regime. We didn’t meet anybody who wanted to leave the country - in fact we met two Cuban women married to Europeans who were determined not to leave Cuba, presenting their husbands with the considerable challenge of finding a way to make a living there! Tourism, which is given a high priority as the country’s principal foreign currency earner, as well as remittances from expatriate Cubans to their families still in Cuba, have introduced a second-tier currency to the island. Dollar shops have sprung up all over Cuba in the past few years, selling western-style goods at western-style prices - and those Cubans fortunate enough to have dollars can now buy fridges, ghetto-blaster cassette players, TVs, cosmetics and most other ‘luxury’ items that we tend to take for granted. So far as we could see this doesn’t seem to cause resentment but has bred a new generation of young entrepreneurs like our friend Francisco Barbaro and is also making some highly trained Cubans seek lesser qualified jobs which may give them access to dollars, like our taxi driver in Casilda who spoke excellent English and had a wide knowledge of English literature and had taught English at secondary level until a few years ago. The police state, which undoubtedly exists, is very little in evidence, and we never felt any restrictions on our freedom of movement, apart from the need to check in and out of each port. All the people we met were happy - even eager - to discuss their country and it’s politics and their views ranged from the fervent Castro fans to the more critical. All, however, returned to the basic undeniable fact that most Cubans are far better off than the average man in the street in Colombia, Bogota, Venezuela, Mexico or even Jamaica. Cubans may not have the freedoms of democracy, but they have full stomachs and healthy, stable lives - and their revolution is sufficiently recent for many of them to remember what life was like without those priviledges.
Our arrival in Georgetown harbour, Grand Cayman, on Friday morning could not have been a greater contrast to our last few days in Cuba - after solitary anchorages on deserted islands, we found ourselves entering the harbour with no less than five gigantic cruise ships (including the Arcadia, the flagship of the P & O fleet). We picked up a mooring buoy just off the third Burger King outlet (!) and having completed the very friendly check in procedures we rushed to buy phone cards and re-establish contact with the non-socialista world!
We are very much looking forward to hearing from you.
With love from John and Barbara