The bikini saga continued. I went down for breakfast before we were due to head out to the other side of Cuba and - surprise surprise - it still wasn't ready! I really didn't know what the big deal was with bringing it up and had a little tanty before storming off to the breakfast room, in typical hot-headed me style. But the breakfast buffet soon cheered me up - what a selection!
Afterwards, we were on the bus again and heading towards Santa Clara where the big Che monument was. At this point, I had given up playing my own game of 'Count the Che' because he was EVERYWHERE, and here was no exception. Before heading to his monument and burial place just one day before the national celebration of his first attempted military action, we walked around the town centre to take some piccies and have a mojito, then literally ran from the air-con bus to the stark white monument to quickly snap memories and rush underneath to the museum and tomb area for the guerillas. It was just so hot!
During the next drive I remembered that it was my sister and brother's birthdays soon and I should get some kind of foreign present for them, so I bought some "cucharones" (salad spoons) from a man at the next stop. It was, I soon learnt, the first of many wooden handmade stores around these parts. Lunch beckoned, and was delivered (included, we were ensured again) at some random hotel with a bunch of other tourists. A huge buffet, I of course stuffed my face too much and confirmed to myself once again that I cannot be trusted with unlimited food in front of me. I even had icecream, which over here is a delicacy for some reason - go past any icecream parlour and there is ALWAYS a line out the door.
Then it was on to Sancti Spiritus, indeed town in spirits as preparations were well underway for 26 de Julio. We had a hotel right in the central plaza, quite a cute place actually, and then went wandering to see what was happening with these upcoming celebrations. There was a fair down the road just setting up, pretty eerie actually as the rides all seemed to come from the 1930s (not entirely unusual for Cuba but still, a little weird) and were due to fall apart any second. Carnavil Infatil - "rustico" is the Spanish word for that, I think. I think I promised some locals a dance later on (there I go again, breaking hearts around the world) as I was in quite the jovial mood, and wandered the streets admiring the rustic architecture.
Back at the hotel, P and I felt like a drink so we tried something different from mojitos and daiquiris for a change. We opted for a sugar cane liquor with honey, me still trying to shake the relics of my recent sickness while also enjoying myself. I counted 11 ants in my drink, P didn't even bother taking hers out before downing the glass (she DOES live in Darwin, after all...). The others were siesta-ing I think, and eventually we met for dinner at the hotel (included). Then it was time to check out this 26 July celebration and see if this small town really knew how to party!
A took us to a street PACKED with people, we literally could hardly move. He bought us these annoying but pretty funny blow-horn things, which ended up being quite good to find each other. I think that's why he did it. We kept getting lost in the crowd! There were DJs, drink stands and a big parade with floats - although when we finally squeezed our way to be able to see them, we noticed the dancers had all but run out of puff. What was meant to be a high octane routine was just a slight hip flex and wave to the crowd. Maybe we were at the end of the street...
We tried some of the local beer, which you had to come prepared to buy with your own cup, and then some of the regular beer. There was a marked difference - the first was flat and a bit warm, while the other tasted, well, not home-brewn. But the home-brew was about 20c so you can't really complain. A had to buy us some of those drinks because they wouldn't take our convertible pesos. We had to find another bar that would serve us. The girls didn't want to drink beer so we had to buy a bottle of rum and some soft drink to carry around with us.
Finding somewhere to pee was an issue, and when A took me behind into some laneways, I was surprised to learn they favoured sensor lights in this part of Cuba. That aside, 'twas a good night and we managed to get a little dance in. We were the only tourists that I noticed there, which was cool. Really felt like we were experiencing something truly local. I had another dance in the plaza outside the hotel with the Irish girls, bottle of rum in hand, and then retired to our rooms.
Afterwards, we were on the bus again and heading towards Santa Clara where the big Che monument was. At this point, I had given up playing my own game of 'Count the Che' because he was EVERYWHERE, and here was no exception. Before heading to his monument and burial place just one day before the national celebration of his first attempted military action, we walked around the town centre to take some piccies and have a mojito, then literally ran from the air-con bus to the stark white monument to quickly snap memories and rush underneath to the museum and tomb area for the guerillas. It was just so hot!
During the next drive I remembered that it was my sister and brother's birthdays soon and I should get some kind of foreign present for them, so I bought some "cucharones" (salad spoons) from a man at the next stop. It was, I soon learnt, the first of many wooden handmade stores around these parts. Lunch beckoned, and was delivered (included, we were ensured again) at some random hotel with a bunch of other tourists. A huge buffet, I of course stuffed my face too much and confirmed to myself once again that I cannot be trusted with unlimited food in front of me. I even had icecream, which over here is a delicacy for some reason - go past any icecream parlour and there is ALWAYS a line out the door.
Then it was on to Sancti Spiritus, indeed town in spirits as preparations were well underway for 26 de Julio. We had a hotel right in the central plaza, quite a cute place actually, and then went wandering to see what was happening with these upcoming celebrations. There was a fair down the road just setting up, pretty eerie actually as the rides all seemed to come from the 1930s (not entirely unusual for Cuba but still, a little weird) and were due to fall apart any second. Carnavil Infatil - "rustico" is the Spanish word for that, I think. I think I promised some locals a dance later on (there I go again, breaking hearts around the world) as I was in quite the jovial mood, and wandered the streets admiring the rustic architecture.
Back at the hotel, P and I felt like a drink so we tried something different from mojitos and daiquiris for a change. We opted for a sugar cane liquor with honey, me still trying to shake the relics of my recent sickness while also enjoying myself. I counted 11 ants in my drink, P didn't even bother taking hers out before downing the glass (she DOES live in Darwin, after all...). The others were siesta-ing I think, and eventually we met for dinner at the hotel (included). Then it was time to check out this 26 July celebration and see if this small town really knew how to party!
A took us to a street PACKED with people, we literally could hardly move. He bought us these annoying but pretty funny blow-horn things, which ended up being quite good to find each other. I think that's why he did it. We kept getting lost in the crowd! There were DJs, drink stands and a big parade with floats - although when we finally squeezed our way to be able to see them, we noticed the dancers had all but run out of puff. What was meant to be a high octane routine was just a slight hip flex and wave to the crowd. Maybe we were at the end of the street...
We tried some of the local beer, which you had to come prepared to buy with your own cup, and then some of the regular beer. There was a marked difference - the first was flat and a bit warm, while the other tasted, well, not home-brewn. But the home-brew was about 20c so you can't really complain. A had to buy us some of those drinks because they wouldn't take our convertible pesos. We had to find another bar that would serve us. The girls didn't want to drink beer so we had to buy a bottle of rum and some soft drink to carry around with us.
Finding somewhere to pee was an issue, and when A took me behind into some laneways, I was surprised to learn they favoured sensor lights in this part of Cuba. That aside, 'twas a good night and we managed to get a little dance in. We were the only tourists that I noticed there, which was cool. Really felt like we were experiencing something truly local. I had another dance in the plaza outside the hotel with the Irish girls, bottle of rum in hand, and then retired to our rooms.
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