After sleeping off most of my sunstroke, I felt somewhat better (but looked a great sight worse) as I headed into breakfast and meet the rest of my tour. L and I headed down to what was the best breakfast spread I'd seen all trip - mountains of choice, from freshly made omelettes to cheeses to a bakery section, to fruit... there was everything.
We went out to the foyer, assuming it was the main foyer not the foyer of the joining hotel which we were staying in. Again, not a lot of detail was given about where to meet etc so we just took a stab. L had met the Belgian guy on our tour last night, somehow, so we found him easily. We also didn't know how many people were on the tour, so just stood there looking at everyone questioning if they were with us. Finally, 2 slightly frazzled looking Irish girls stumbled in with their backpacks and I knew they were part of our party. There was just 1 person left, but since her travel agent hadn't notified her of the change in hotel, she had stayed at a different one and had to be picked up separately. Quite a unique character, this poor Kiwi woman had a stressful start to her tour but still had a smile on her face.
We met our guide, a local who usually does the bike tours of Cuba but had broke his arm and was re-assigned to us minions. He took us to our bus and introduced the driver, a sweet father of several daughters who had to drive over 8 hours to get to Havana and work with us for the 8 days. We drove through the richer suburbs which used to be for white people only, now it's a mix of people living in multi-flat rentals within mansions and the odd rich person still hanging on to the old glory.
Because of the delay picking up the last person, we were running late for the cigar factory and had to pass on it, hoping to get there a little later in the tour. We stopped at a random place for a drink and cheap Havaianas - again, being given a pina colada with rum as well as the bottle of rum in case we wanted to top ourselves up - then headed on to get lunch and do some sightseeing. We headed to a big mural painted in the 70s, illustrating the prehistoric history of the area and apparently the biggest mural in the world, or something. We had an included buffet lunch, the first of many that gave the basic options of pork, beef, chicken, fish and lobster. Lobster - yeah! Just as common as fish around here. Oh, and men singing Guantanamera.
I rode a bull to the restaurant area. Because I could.
Our guide, A, revealed to us that day 2 of our surprise tour was to include a horse ride through the agricultural land around the mural. The horses, if I could call them that, were a bit on the thin side and the man who helped the girls on didn't even bother adjusting their feet into the stirrups. Not that there was much point, the horses weren't going any faster and were only interested in eating the grass along the track - not that I blame them... My horse refused to go faster than a quick walk and I got to the point of no more kicking, and just sat back and tried to take in the scenery around me.
The other girls hadn't really ridden much before, so were giggling and screaming behind me - I was fairly bored. Because the group was small, our guide came along on a spare horse and even he remarked at how crap it was. We stopped for a breather at a random little cottage where a lady asked us for drink, no doubt an extra charge, and none of us were keen. I think it was coffee she offered - dear god, coffee in heat like that? She must be loca.
When we'd finished, it was back on the bus and out of the heat. It was straight to the pool area when we got back to our hotel, which we had already dropped our bags off at, but when I got there one look at the water, and the kids, and the thought of when it was last cleaned, and all I could manage was a quick dip to cool off. Even writing this now I shudder. Instead, B from Belgium and I just enjoyed the view of the valleys surrounding us. The hotel, a soft pink colour, reminded me a lot of the big Blue Mountains hotel which is also situated on the edge of a cliff looking down on dense bushland and sweeping valleys. It was a calming place, and a nice way to spend an afternoon.
Before we knew it, it was time for dinner so we got ourselves dressed and ready for what we all hoped would be a lovely after-dinner dance in the town of Vinales. Dinner was at a lovely spot overlooking the valleys again, but with the added beauty of the sun setting as we sat at our tables. The platform we were on was built out from the edge so we were literally bathing in the fading light in a world all our own. Well, we shared it with a fair few mosquitoes and a loud Cuban group to our left, but otherwise a world all our own. My legs remained untouched (by the mozzies I mean, not the Cubans) because my horrendous smelling insect spray from Mexico had leaked through my bag that sat at my feet.
After dinner, we were whisked into town and to the main place open for business. There was a band already playing, a Cuban outfit with horns, saxophone, piano and a bevvy of singers. We had a boogie then sat as other singers came out to the dance floor for their moment to shine. All pretty talented. Every now and then a local would come up and ask for our hand on the dance floor, I wasn't going to dance with just anyone, so I enjoyed watching for a while. Then some of the band came down and coaxed a few of us gringos onto the stage, where they demonstrated some Cuban moves for us to mimic. I must say I was one of the only white girls who could move her hips, but even so, when we found ourselves on all fours watching the singer rotate his pelvis around, I started questioning just where this was going.
A DJ followed the band and other performances (including some random dance troupe who were a tasty little treat on the eyes), and we danced. And danced. I finally relented and let some of the locals have a dance with me, not wanting anything more from them but also relishing the fact that every one of them knew how to salsa before they could walk. I certainly didn't know all the moves but it was a very welcome change to have someone leading ME on the dance floor for once.
I sweated. And sweated. And sweated. At one point I had to go outside (even though inside was roofless anyway) to have the bouncers flap a piece of cardboard in my face to revive my senses. I definitely couldn't wear this dress anymore without a trip to the laundry mat. Our guide had come with us for the night, one of just a few times he would join us, and arranged for a taxi to ferry us back to the hotel as our driver had retired for the night. And just in time, we were pooped!
We went out to the foyer, assuming it was the main foyer not the foyer of the joining hotel which we were staying in. Again, not a lot of detail was given about where to meet etc so we just took a stab. L had met the Belgian guy on our tour last night, somehow, so we found him easily. We also didn't know how many people were on the tour, so just stood there looking at everyone questioning if they were with us. Finally, 2 slightly frazzled looking Irish girls stumbled in with their backpacks and I knew they were part of our party. There was just 1 person left, but since her travel agent hadn't notified her of the change in hotel, she had stayed at a different one and had to be picked up separately. Quite a unique character, this poor Kiwi woman had a stressful start to her tour but still had a smile on her face.
We met our guide, a local who usually does the bike tours of Cuba but had broke his arm and was re-assigned to us minions. He took us to our bus and introduced the driver, a sweet father of several daughters who had to drive over 8 hours to get to Havana and work with us for the 8 days. We drove through the richer suburbs which used to be for white people only, now it's a mix of people living in multi-flat rentals within mansions and the odd rich person still hanging on to the old glory.
Because of the delay picking up the last person, we were running late for the cigar factory and had to pass on it, hoping to get there a little later in the tour. We stopped at a random place for a drink and cheap Havaianas - again, being given a pina colada with rum as well as the bottle of rum in case we wanted to top ourselves up - then headed on to get lunch and do some sightseeing. We headed to a big mural painted in the 70s, illustrating the prehistoric history of the area and apparently the biggest mural in the world, or something. We had an included buffet lunch, the first of many that gave the basic options of pork, beef, chicken, fish and lobster. Lobster - yeah! Just as common as fish around here. Oh, and men singing Guantanamera.
I rode a bull to the restaurant area. Because I could.
Our guide, A, revealed to us that day 2 of our surprise tour was to include a horse ride through the agricultural land around the mural. The horses, if I could call them that, were a bit on the thin side and the man who helped the girls on didn't even bother adjusting their feet into the stirrups. Not that there was much point, the horses weren't going any faster and were only interested in eating the grass along the track - not that I blame them... My horse refused to go faster than a quick walk and I got to the point of no more kicking, and just sat back and tried to take in the scenery around me.
The other girls hadn't really ridden much before, so were giggling and screaming behind me - I was fairly bored. Because the group was small, our guide came along on a spare horse and even he remarked at how crap it was. We stopped for a breather at a random little cottage where a lady asked us for drink, no doubt an extra charge, and none of us were keen. I think it was coffee she offered - dear god, coffee in heat like that? She must be loca.
When we'd finished, it was back on the bus and out of the heat. It was straight to the pool area when we got back to our hotel, which we had already dropped our bags off at, but when I got there one look at the water, and the kids, and the thought of when it was last cleaned, and all I could manage was a quick dip to cool off. Even writing this now I shudder. Instead, B from Belgium and I just enjoyed the view of the valleys surrounding us. The hotel, a soft pink colour, reminded me a lot of the big Blue Mountains hotel which is also situated on the edge of a cliff looking down on dense bushland and sweeping valleys. It was a calming place, and a nice way to spend an afternoon.
Before we knew it, it was time for dinner so we got ourselves dressed and ready for what we all hoped would be a lovely after-dinner dance in the town of Vinales. Dinner was at a lovely spot overlooking the valleys again, but with the added beauty of the sun setting as we sat at our tables. The platform we were on was built out from the edge so we were literally bathing in the fading light in a world all our own. Well, we shared it with a fair few mosquitoes and a loud Cuban group to our left, but otherwise a world all our own. My legs remained untouched (by the mozzies I mean, not the Cubans) because my horrendous smelling insect spray from Mexico had leaked through my bag that sat at my feet.
After dinner, we were whisked into town and to the main place open for business. There was a band already playing, a Cuban outfit with horns, saxophone, piano and a bevvy of singers. We had a boogie then sat as other singers came out to the dance floor for their moment to shine. All pretty talented. Every now and then a local would come up and ask for our hand on the dance floor, I wasn't going to dance with just anyone, so I enjoyed watching for a while. Then some of the band came down and coaxed a few of us gringos onto the stage, where they demonstrated some Cuban moves for us to mimic. I must say I was one of the only white girls who could move her hips, but even so, when we found ourselves on all fours watching the singer rotate his pelvis around, I started questioning just where this was going.
A DJ followed the band and other performances (including some random dance troupe who were a tasty little treat on the eyes), and we danced. And danced. I finally relented and let some of the locals have a dance with me, not wanting anything more from them but also relishing the fact that every one of them knew how to salsa before they could walk. I certainly didn't know all the moves but it was a very welcome change to have someone leading ME on the dance floor for once.
I sweated. And sweated. And sweated. At one point I had to go outside (even though inside was roofless anyway) to have the bouncers flap a piece of cardboard in my face to revive my senses. I definitely couldn't wear this dress anymore without a trip to the laundry mat. Our guide had come with us for the night, one of just a few times he would join us, and arranged for a taxi to ferry us back to the hotel as our driver had retired for the night. And just in time, we were pooped!
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