5. Camaguey
I depart Trinidad on a virtually empty bus. Um. Only the curious travel out of Trinidad heading this way, it seems. I soon see why. The further East we go, the more ;roads' abandon any attempt at deserving the term 'highway'. I sit pensively on the near deserted Viazul as the affluent lush landscape of the West fades into barren dry wastelands.
Yet my next stop, Camaguey, is an unexpected delight. Eclectic mix of architecture, with a extravagantly designed catholic church on every corner, this is the religious and artistic centre of the island, art galleries at every turn, sculptures, wall art, exhibitions, crowding the tiny maze of alleys.
The casa I find here is perfectly located by the main square where nightly crowds gather for music and dancing. I like this town, with its crowded lanes emerging into wide open spaces full of art work, lofty spires, market stalls crammed with artisan products and , for me, by far the best music scene in Cuba, excelling Trinidad in its nightly extravaganzas.
Unusually, this casa has three rooms, so I share the communal space, a tree lined roof garden, with other guests, an English woman of a certain age and a Danish couple, all of whom eat here but me. I stick to my cheap and cheerful street food feast.
I do not feel guilty refusing supper. The casa system here is fraught, long conversations with Hilda, Merlyn and others has taught me how complex the Governments relationship is with the casa tourist industry, how little the owners make from our stay, how angry they are with the current system.
Food wise, the bitterness stems simply from the plain fact that there is not enough to go round. Cubans are used to shortages, hence the tiny monthly ration coupons issued by the Government to avoid actual starvation in the poorer areas, but lack of available goods makes offering catering hard.
However, a casa licence is stringent, rooms " must" (should) be well provisioned (even have a/c facilities, although in my experience they do not have to work!) and offer at least breakfast. The Government 'cut' is considerable, but sourcing food to offer as regulations demand means families dealing in Cuba's vast black market economy. This then forces prices up and increases shortages for everyone else.
Imposing tax on casas has been the last straw for many who ploughed everything into renovations, incurring spiraling debts, promised instant wealth by a Government promoting tourism.
As Cuba sinks deeper into recession the sense of betrayal is all too obvious. Cubans are loyal to the ideology of communism but all too aware their country is no longer classless, with the Government widely seen as corrupt and out of touch with the people.
I am privileged that Cubans articulate this to me, as to be openly critical is not a good idea here! Yet people share their anger with me, both in Spanish and in English. All want the west to know more about the trials and tribulations of Cuba and want to know more about the west.
There is also a generation gap emerging here, and a well known growing skill shortage. Universities half full as young people turn their backs on careers for a more lucrative future in tourism.
In Camaguey I listened to all this with fascination, sitting with several generations of my host family on the roof under the stars, as they shared worries for their future. This is absolutely the best upside of travelling solo, sharing personal conversations with strangers who become friends.
I depart Trinidad on a virtually empty bus. Um. Only the curious travel out of Trinidad heading this way, it seems. I soon see why. The further East we go, the more ;roads' abandon any attempt at deserving the term 'highway'. I sit pensively on the near deserted Viazul as the affluent lush landscape of the West fades into barren dry wastelands.
Yet my next stop, Camaguey, is an unexpected delight. Eclectic mix of architecture, with a extravagantly designed catholic church on every corner, this is the religious and artistic centre of the island, art galleries at every turn, sculptures, wall art, exhibitions, crowding the tiny maze of alleys.
The casa I find here is perfectly located by the main square where nightly crowds gather for music and dancing. I like this town, with its crowded lanes emerging into wide open spaces full of art work, lofty spires, market stalls crammed with artisan products and , for me, by far the best music scene in Cuba, excelling Trinidad in its nightly extravaganzas.
Unusually, this casa has three rooms, so I share the communal space, a tree lined roof garden, with other guests, an English woman of a certain age and a Danish couple, all of whom eat here but me. I stick to my cheap and cheerful street food feast.
I do not feel guilty refusing supper. The casa system here is fraught, long conversations with Hilda, Merlyn and others has taught me how complex the Governments relationship is with the casa tourist industry, how little the owners make from our stay, how angry they are with the current system.
Food wise, the bitterness stems simply from the plain fact that there is not enough to go round. Cubans are used to shortages, hence the tiny monthly ration coupons issued by the Government to avoid actual starvation in the poorer areas, but lack of available goods makes offering catering hard.
However, a casa licence is stringent, rooms " must" (should) be well provisioned (even have a/c facilities, although in my experience they do not have to work!) and offer at least breakfast. The Government 'cut' is considerable, but sourcing food to offer as regulations demand means families dealing in Cuba's vast black market economy. This then forces prices up and increases shortages for everyone else.
Imposing tax on casas has been the last straw for many who ploughed everything into renovations, incurring spiraling debts, promised instant wealth by a Government promoting tourism.
As Cuba sinks deeper into recession the sense of betrayal is all too obvious. Cubans are loyal to the ideology of communism but all too aware their country is no longer classless, with the Government widely seen as corrupt and out of touch with the people.
I am privileged that Cubans articulate this to me, as to be openly critical is not a good idea here! Yet people share their anger with me, both in Spanish and in English. All want the west to know more about the trials and tribulations of Cuba and want to know more about the west.
There is also a generation gap emerging here, and a well known growing skill shortage. Universities half full as young people turn their backs on careers for a more lucrative future in tourism.
In Camaguey I listened to all this with fascination, sitting with several generations of my host family on the roof under the stars, as they shared worries for their future. This is absolutely the best upside of travelling solo, sharing personal conversations with strangers who become friends.
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