Cienfuegos

Viva la Revolución!

The sound of Cienfuegos was not as much music (as everywhere else I've been) but of horse's hoofs clapping along the pavement. Horse driven carts seemed to be the primary method of transport. This is probably not actually the case, but being quite used to the sound of cars on the street, the constant clap clap clap on the pavement stood out.

I liked Cienfuegos just fine in the beginning, but I didn't love the casa I ended up finding and I felt I'd had enough of the town after walking around for just a few hours after arriving. So, I decided to leave after just one night.

The next morning, I went to the bus station early to buy my ticket, and after standing around waiting for nearly an hour for the ticket seller to return (apparently she would be right back, and apparently, "be right back" in Cuba means something a little different than what I'm accustomed to), I decided to walk around town a bit more.

I ventured a bit farther than I had the night before and enjoyed myself and made some interesting discoveries. I'm fascinated by all of the state propaganda painted on the walls, it's everywhere, but Cienfuegos was especially adorned.

En route back to the bus station, I stopped in to a fancy tourist hotel for a drink. I sat poolside sipping a pina colada, loving the escape - it was nice to have a break from constant "Hey Lady, Where you from?" or "De que pais?" as well as the thick exhaust from cars that are still running after 50+ years with no means or regulation to minimize the emissions.

I just sat there quietly reading my book.

I enjoyed it so much that I decided to take a full day vacation from my vacation and checked the prices and booked a room that cost me 2 full days of my allotted budget.

I walked back to Elsa's house (my casa), made up a lie about meeting another American and we decided to share a car back to Havana (to explain why I was leaving her house several hours before the bus was scheduled to leave). Elsa was a very sweet lady who lived alone, I think she really wanted the company - so I felt incredibly guilty and hoped she wouldn't be at the bus station the next morning when I was leaving (not at all something out of the ordinary). I thought I was pretty slick, and though she wasn't at the bus station when I was leaving, someone else I'd met (in an entirely different part of town mind you) was at the station and asked me why I didn't like Elsa's house? (Oh ... I felt really bad.)

Anyway - I packed up and plopped my bags on the hotel bed and spent the rest of the day swimming and lounging in the sun. It was exactly where I wanted to be for the day.

There's one phrase that I hear constantly in Cuba - it's highly unlikely that a conversation will go for more than 10 minutes without someone uttering "No es facil" "It's not easy ... Cuba ... it's not easy."

Relative to those who actually live here, for me as a tourist, it's incredibly easy. However, in relation to my life at home as a spoiled rotten imperialist who can find a band-aid, soap, or toilet paper whenever she needs it ... Cuba ... no es facil.

After a day of swimming, lounging in the sun, reading, and sipping pina coladas, I was ready to head back to Havana, where I left my heart.