We've learned many things about backpacking in Southeast Asia, but one of the biggest take home points was that we packed too much. I had a 70L backpack filled to the top, and Skye had a 57L just as full. I had brought my laptop (for work) and had way too many clothes. This time, we only each brought a day pack 36L and 28L respectively. Also - no laptop :). This would allow us to travel lighter and not have to wait for checked bags - or through massive backpacks under a bus / boat while we traveled (which was a pain every time).
But now we're on a WestJet flight from Halifax to Toronto to Varadero, Cuba. Being on the flight gave us a rush of excitement that we haven't felt in years - we were going to a place we've never been and would land and try to figure it out. On the flight we met a guy named Julio. He was roughly my age and spoke English with a slight accent. He had blondish/brown hair and blue eyes. He asked if we'd ever been to Cuba before. Assuming all Cubans were darker we answered no and asked if he'd ever been before. To our embarrassment, he was from Cienfuegos, Cuba. He was an engineering who moved to Canada to work in Northern Alberta in hopes of making more money. In Cuba, he explained, engineers would make roughly the equivalent of 25$ USD / month. He described to us that he was some what disappointed after moving to Canada as he found everything to be ridiculously more expensive. Sure the salary was higher, he went on, but the cost of everything else is just as high. He explained that he had to share a room with others that immigrated there for a year or so in order just to make ends meet. He was now making a bit more - but he realized that the there was a reason for the large salary difference from his home country.
We talked to entire flight, he showed us places to go, and gave us his number to contact him when we were in Cienfuegos. As we were about to land, he explained to us that the customs people look with extra suspicion on Cubans that re-enter the country with large luggage. He admits that he's carried with him tons of gifts for his family - and asks if we can take the luggage out the front door (not through security or customs) knowing we only had carry on bags. He told us that they don't blink an eye to what tourists bring. This immediate obviously set of alarms in our heads as we'd watched many episodes of Banged Up Abroad and knew this is just how it starts. I smiled and nod and hoped I could just separate myself at the airport.
Separating from anybody at the Varadero airport is impossible... it's a tiny airport with only a handful of custom queues. I was convinced that I wasn't carrying his luggage through customs or through the security scanner, but he told me that it was only after security that the luggage comes out (similar to our airports). So we go through customs and wait at the luggage belt along with everybody else on the plane. There are a handful of tourists, but the majority of people are Cuban with ridiculously large bags - more gifts and luxuries for families. A custom offer is walking around with a beagle sniffer dog and the dog walks on the luggage belt in the opposite direction smelling all the bags. "That's my bag there," Julio says. I pretend not to here him as I wait for the dog to sniff his bag. The dog sniffs and moves on. The luggage belt is right beside the door - there's nobody else in between, no security. I hesitantly grab the suitcase and roll it out the door. He takes the bag outside the door and thanks me. That was easy, I thought... I then just began wondering if I had trust issues and watched too much tv...
It's really hot outside - luckily, there's a small vendor right outside that sells beer. He buys us each a Cristal and asks if we want to go to Varadero with him. Him and some friends rented a house on the beach but they wouldn't arrive until tomorrow so there was room if we wanted to stay the night before moving onto Habana. We thought about it - but decided we didn't want to visit resort land just yet and wanted to keep on our journey. We knew we had to take a bus to Habana, and we had paid for the ticket online back in Canada... but now we had no idea where it was / or how to get it. Good thing we had beer...
As we're looking around, we notice a driver with a sign "Quevillon". I was confused and looked at Skye who had a really guilty look on her face. In Cuba, if you're not staying at the resorts, you have to stay at a casa particular. This is essentially somebody's home who was OK'ed by the government to host tourists. We had originally tried to book a casa online in Canada for Varadero (for the night) but had got no response. We assumed they didn't take the booking - we really misjudged Cuban culture. Or maybe, it's just our culture of constant reassuring. We make bookings, we get confirmation emails. We get follow up emails once the booking is close. If we don't receive enough feedback - we might even just call / email a second time to confirm our bookings. Same thing with meeting up with friends, there's always a text message or two being exchanged "almost there", "you here yet?". In Cuba, without the "luxury" of these technologies, a word is as good as it needs to be. So here we were, looking like typical tourists trying to explain to the driver that because we didn't receive an email we thought the booking was not there. Consequently - we had already booked another casa in Habana for that night (and paid online). The driver was understandably upset and confused as he drove away.
We ask around and in my best Spanish I'm able to figure out that the bus will be here in an hour or so. Everybody from the plane had cleared, and the place was pretty much deserted now. We were getting hungry and the only thing we could find was a bag of chicoticos (surprisingly not that bad.)
Finally after watching everybody leave with their extra large luggage (we actually saw people come out of the airport with toilets and other home appliances), we relaxed and waited for our bus. After an hour or so - the bus came. The bus driver had a list, but of course our name wasn't on it. We had paid online, but it turns out we had much to learn about Cuban organization. We paid each another 8 CUC and hopped on the bus. Cuba has two currencies, one which is equivalent to the US dollar which are called Covertible Pesos (or CUC as everybody calls them). The other (which can not be used to buy luxury items such as shampoo etc) are what the Cubans are paid in, Pesos. The conversion at the time of travel was 26 Peso = 1 USD. We were finally on the bus and on our way to Habana.
I loved looking out the bus window along the way at the rural farmers. Goats tied to posts, beautiful lush land - it was beautiful. It quickly grew darker and the bus got fuller as we neared Habana. We read in our Lonely Planet guide book that in order to Centro Habana (where our booking was) we had to get off at a certain location. I walked up to the driver and asked him "Centro" and he waved me off kinda saying "yeah yeah yeah". The book described going through a tunnel then it would be right after. We went through the tunnel and the bus kept going. I grew slightly nervous (as it was dark) and asked the driver again. He just grunted annoyingly. Finally the bus pulled over and we grabbed our bags and moved to the front. I looked at the driver and said "Centro?" he noded and looked away.
We got off the bus and realized we had no idea where to go from here. We only had a very non descriptive map from Lonely Planet and most of the roads were not labeled. A bici-taxi driver spotted us and came right to us asked if we wanted a ride. We told him no and kept walking (we were convinced we'd figure it out). After several minutes of doing circles we told him the address and he took us away. I only had CUC$5 on me, and knew that most rides should only be 1 or 2 CUC (for tourists anyways). After 10 minutes or so, our bici-taxi driver looked lost. He kept asking directions from our poor scribbled note. He took us to an intersection - which is the best he could do as the address didn't exists. We weren't impressed as we had no idea where we were, with no Casa in sight. I asked if he had change, to which he obviously did not (I doubt bici-taxi drivers would carry around 3 CUCs in change). He went on his way and we walked around asking locals if they knew of our casa.
The locals we very friendly and quickly two of them tried to help us by yelling around to ask people in their buildings if they knew of our casa. Nobody's heard of it - but one guy yelled down and said we could stay there. It had a suite upstairs that was empty - but it wasn't government OK'ed (it's illegal to host tourists unless you're an approved Casa Particular). He threw down the key from 3 stories up and we walked up. It was roughly 5 stories up a winding narrow staircase. Old wooden doors on each floor separated the units. Most were half open with locals watching their small scrambled tv shows. We got to the top and the place was great! It was on the top of building completely outside with a small room to the site with a shower and a private bathroom. I asked how much (knowing at this point I'd pay for just about anything). "20 CUCs" he said, that's usually the going rate so we took it.
The two friends that had helped us find the place stayed and talked for a while. They were both of African decent and were roughly my age. I asked where I could get some good food (we only had that bag of chicoticos since lunch, and it was now roughly 9pm). They suggested a couple touristy places, but we wanted some cuban food. They took us to a paladar. They knocked on somebody's apartment on the ground floor and a surly old man came to the door. They spoke in Spanish and he let us in and led us to his kitchen / guess dining room. He took out two english menus that had some food. Very simple stuff, mostly pork (Cerdo) and cheese. The prices were ridiculous (8 CUC per plate) but we felt obligated to as it looked like we pretty much woke this old man up. We each got thinly sliced pork with cheese and grimaced as the old man delivered it. It tasted as good as it looked, and it didn't look very good at all... We each had some rum and purchased a round for our two new friends as they just came to chat but not eat. They studied at the University and were very passionate about politics. They explained to us that they wanted the embargo lifted and allow US visitors. I was surprised to hear this, but continued to listen as it was an interesting point of view I had seldom heard. We finished our dinner and I begrudgingly paid our overly expensive bill.
We walked back to our room and our friends (who I unfortunately can't remember their names) asked if we wanted to go out for more drinks. We were tired, and honestly had run completely out of money as we did not anticipate such an expensive dinner. We'd have to wait until tomorrow and find a bank - so we just said our goodbyes and we went into our cozy room. Laying on our very uncomfortable bed in the muggy heat of the night I closed my eyes and smiled - Skye and I were back to doing what we love best, travelling and finding adventure.
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