Cuba (2022)
Inhalt/Content
Never again Trinidad!
El Nicho
A shared taxi, which was essentially just a regular car, picked us up in the morning, not only us but also Lluis. We planned to travel together to El Nicho and then to Trinidad, where Mayra had already recommended accommodation for us. In Cuba, many things work through recommendations. You recommend a place to stay in one town, and the favor is returned the next time, and if you’re lucky, you might even get a small commission for the recommendation.
On our way, our taxi also picked up Lara. Lara was also from Spain, from La Palma. She had been traveling through Cuba for two weeks, visiting distant relatives here for the first time. Lluis, Lara, Kevin, and I got along very well right from the start and we were all looking forward to today’s excursion.
Lluis used the journey to engage the taxi driver in a conversation. Later, he explained to us that his motivation for traveling to Cuba included talking to people and learning more about their views. Unfortunately, my Spanish skills reached their limit during a conversation between two native speakers on socio-political topics, but later, Lara and Lluis summarized it for me.
Apparently, our taxi driver was a convinced communist who believed that all evils came from the USA. Nevertheless, he shared some interesting facts. For about 10,000 US dollars, Cubans can escape to Nicaragua, which grants them visa-free entry. From there, they make their way to the USA. This is considered the safest way to leave the country. Of course, there are people who can’t afford this and attempt to flee to Miami by boat. No one knows exactly how many perish in the attempt, but it’s definitely too many. That’s why you see the sign “Se Vende” (for sale) on numerous houses. People sell everything they own, including their homes, hoping to take the “safe” route. Each house with this sign represents a desire for a better life, and this sign was truly almost everywhere.
Upon arriving at El Nicho, we obtained our tickets and followed the short hiking trail to the first waterfall. Some people were already swimming in the water. We had intentionally worn our swimwear underneath our clothes and now stripped down to jump into the water as well. The water was surprisingly cold, but given the tropical temperatures, it was quite refreshing. Especially Lluis couldn’t resist climbing on various rocks and constantly jumping into the water or standing directly under the waterfall. After a while, we dried off, put our clothes back on, and continued exploring because there were several other water spots where you could swim. In between, adventurous paths led through the jungle, passing through truly beautiful nature.
For one of the water spots, an additional fee was charged, which was more expensive than the entrance itself. We found this a bit cheeky and decided to turn back at that point. Instead, we got a tip that there was a nice swimming spot hidden near the entrance, and after some searching, we found it. Surprisingly, nobody else was there yet. I undressed and jumped into the water. Kevin followed, but had some trouble with the rocks in the water and scraped his shins a bit. Nevertheless, we had a lot of fun here. A few people followed us, so we weren’t the only ones there for long. When it started to rain, we quickly grabbed our belongings and headed back.
It was the first time that Kevin and I had swum in waterfalls, and it was a really cool experience.
By now, it was lunchtime, and our driver asked us with noticeable emphasis if we were hungry. Well, we were indeed hungry. So, we affirmed his question, and of course, he conveniently “knew” a good restaurant he could take us to. In the restaurant itself, no menus were handed to us. Instead, a lady told us what dishes were available, naturally without mentioning the prices. It was blatantly obvious that our driver was getting a commission for bringing us here. We weren’t the only tourists being chauffeured here; others were also brought in. In the end, instead of a bill, they gave us a piece of paper on which the prices for our dishes were written in pen. Of course, all in euros. We paid with the corresponding amount in CUP (as always, at the black market exchange rate of 1:100). The rest of the journey was rather uneventful, and so we arrived in Trinidad.
Trinidad – From now on it’s all downhill…
Trinidad was lined with cobblestones over which the old taxi creaked. There were no proper house numbers, so the driver had to ask for directions multiple times until he could finally drop us and Lluis off at the accommodation recommended by Mayra. It was a small salmon-colored townhouse on a side street owned by Bernardo and Mildrey. Bernardo was an overweight, loud man, and Mildrey seemed like a typical housewife, always wearing an apron. They had a daughter who was now a teenager and was their pride and joy. Numerous photos of her adorned the walls, and even on the business card Mayra had shown us, Bernardo and Mildrey were pictured with their daughter.
Upon entering the house, you stepped directly into a sort of living room. Besides a television on the wall, there were several rocking chairs and a small side table here, as in many Cuban homes. A hallway led to the doors of our rooms and then to the kitchen, from which you could exit to an inner courtyard. Along a staircase leading to the roof, a banana tree grew. From the roof, you could access a kind of neighboring roof, where avocados grew alongside bananas.
We first sat on the rocking chairs at the entrance, and while Mildrey brewed coffee for us, Bernardo got straight to the point. He showed us laminated brochures of tours and other touristy things, explaining that he could organize all of it for us. He didn’t even bother asking if we wanted any of it; he directly inquired about what we wanted. We all felt uncomfortable with the situation since we didn’t want any of those services. In the meantime, the coffee was ready, and Mildrey also tried to persuade us.
We asked for some time to think, which Bernardo tried to use as a wise businessman would: with alcohol. He made us Canchanchara cocktails, a drink consisting of rum, lime juice, honey, and ice. His plan didn’t work out entirely because Kevin and I asked him to omit the rum. It was probably a mistake to even touch the cocktails, but more on that later…
Somehow, we managed to fend off Bernardo and Mildrey without booking any tours. We used this opportunity to explore the city on foot. Trinidad seemed noticeably poorer than the previous cities, yet there were seemingly more tourists around. The residential houses, as typical in Cuba, were wide open, allowing passersby glimpses of antique colonial-era furniture. In one apartment, there was even a gaming PC with RGB lighting, which felt entirely out of place. Due to tourism, there were numerous art galleries and souvenir shops. The closer we got to the main square, Plaza Mayor, the more frequently we were approached by people. Souvenirs, taxis, horseback rides, excursions… hadn’t we just managed to escape Bernardo and Mildrey?
Tired from the day’s events, we eventually returned to our accommodation. Before going to sleep, I took a short walk alone to capture the evening atmosphere, not knowing that this would probably be the last somewhat carefree evening on this journey…
The lie about a good healthcare system
In the middle of the night, I woke up with stomach cramps. If only I hadn’t drunk the Canchanchara! As I sat up and my feet touched the floor, I noticed something crawling between our beds. Cockroaches! As if that wasn’t enough, there seemed to be no electricity at the moment. Armed with my phone flashlight, I spent the rest of the night in the dark, maneuvering past cockroaches between the bed and the bathroom until morning broke, leaving me feeling utterly drained. Exhausted, I got dressed and went to find Mildrey once she was awake. I canceled the breakfast I had ordered for today. She offered to make me a chamomile tea, which I gratefully accepted. I asked her where the nearest pharmacy was. In her gaze, I saw a certain resignation. I could try the international pharmacy, which opens later in the morning, she said. But she didn’t want to give me much hope. Alternatively, she could prepare a chicken soup for me if I wanted. It sounded nice, but I really didn’t feel like eating. Until the pharmacy opened, Kevin and I sat in the rocking chairs, trying to pass the time somehow. However, we hadn’t accounted for Bernardo. He entered the living room and asked us what our plans were for the day. I explained that I was feeling unwell and we wanted to go to the pharmacy. Unfortunately, my response didn’t seem to please him. How about a horseback ride when we return? I was taken aback. No, I’m feeling sick; even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t be able to do that. He didn’t give up and immediately suggested another tour without a hint of shame. Furious, I retreated back to our room, despite the cockroaches.
Eventually, we managed to visit the international pharmacy, where I understood Mildrey’s earlier resignation upon seeing its condition. Almost all the shelves in the pharmacy were empty. There were only a few packets of sanitary pads, a couple of surgical masks, and a few bottles of some cough or fever syrup for children. And that was it. This was the international, or the “better” pharmacy for tourists. Nevertheless, I asked the pharmacist if she might still have something for the stomach. Once again, I received a resigned look. There was nothing. Not here and nowhere else in Trinidad. She merely dictated a recipe to me to make an electrolyte solution with the simplest ingredients. And that was it. There was another pharmacy in Trinidad, more intended for locals, but as it turned out, this pharmacy was completely closed, as it was entirely empty. According to the Federal Statistical Office, in 2018, Cuba had 84 doctors per 10,000 inhabitants. In comparison, in Germany, there are 44. The Cuban healthcare system has a good reputation, and Cuba regularly sends doctors abroad (despite the repression), most recently during the COVID-19 pandemic. Unfortunately, the number of doctors is not a true reflection of the healthcare system because having many doctors is of no use when the economic crisis and shortages mean there are no available medicines.
Salsa and a small ray of hope
On the way back, we bought postcards and filled them out in our accommodation. Trinidad dampened our vacation spirit significantly, but at least it was going to be our last day there. I was feeling a bit better by now, although I hadn’t eaten anything that day because I had neither appetite nor the courage to ingest anything without access to medication. During our pharmacy tour, we had taken a small detour because we had spotted a beautiful viewpoint on the map, the Cerro de la Vigía. Unfortunately, we couldn’t find the way. Feeling somewhat better, I was determined not to spend more time in our accommodation than necessary. Mildrey and Bernardo were hovering like vultures, waiting to engage me in conversations to sell me some tours. So, I ventured out alone once more, hoping to find a way to the viewpoint. Kevin stayed in the accommodation as the heat was getting to him, and he had the advantage of not being pestered since he didn’t speak Spanish.
I did find a small path, which passed by a luxurious hotel complex. Near the path was the frequently mentioned Ayala nightclub, which is located in a cave. However, it seemed quite deserted, but that was a common sight in many places in Cuba. While there were a few more tourists in Trinidad, it still wasn’t overly crowded. Moreover, you could sense the significant population exodus happening all over Cuba. As I continued on the path towards the viewpoint, a European-looking couple overtook me. At least I wasn’t alone, which was somewhat reassuring.
Shortly after, I saw a kind of radio tower at the end of the path. So, this was the viewpoint. The tower was fenced, but I saw the couple being greeted and let in by a man. When the man saw me, he waved me over too. If there was one thing I had learned in Trinidad, it was that there was no genuine kindness here. We hadn’t met a single person who didn’t want our money in some form. Every few meters on the street, someone would approach us, and even our hosts regarded us merely as walking ATMs. Yes, it was the poverty and the constant scarcity that turned people this way. However, we felt very uncomfortable in the presence of locals.
The man at the viewpoint didn’t make a good impression on me. I had seen enough people here to know that if I went inside, he would at some point stretch out his hand and want euros from me. So, I politely declined. He didn’t give up for a few minutes, futilely trying to coax me inside further. This only reinforced my decision to stay outside. I turned around in front of the fence, took one or two photos of the beautiful view, and then made my way back towards the accommodation.
Kevin sat on the bed in our room, small stacks of Euro bills in front of him. His expression was serious. “Nathalie, we’re running out of Euros. We need a way to get cash.” Surprisingly, we hadn’t seen any of the banks in Havana that were described to us where we could withdraw Euros. There didn’t seem to be any in Trinidad either. Even after a Google search with the little internet access we had, we didn’t find the solution we were looking for. Quite the opposite: there were plenty of websites, supposedly from this year, claiming that you could easily travel in Cuba without cash because you could shop with cards in MLC Stores. What a lie! It was exactly this kind of nonsense that led us to believe that 1000€ in cash would be enough for 3 weeks. After much back and forth, we decided to change our plan: using a VPN, we organized accommodation for our next destination through Airbnb, since we could pay with a credit card (I didn’t want to risk PayPal again). Ironically, I couldn’t book accommodation through Airbnb from Germany, but now it worked smoothly. We decided to look for a bank again in Santa Clara, our next stop, and then went to the nearest MLC Store to buy water. At the cash register, the cashier leaned in and asked us if we wanted to pay more and receive the difference in CUP. I was a bit suspicious, but this could be it: a way to get cash. I agreed and exchanged 50€ into CUP as a test. It worked: the cashier called her colleague, who came from a back room with a bundle of bills and handed them to me. Kevin did the same and exchanged another 50€. “Come back in the evening, we’re open until 9:00 PM,” said the cashier. I wanted to cheer: our vacation was saved!
In our accommodation, partly to finally get some peace from Mildrey and Bernardo and also because I wanted to do it anyway, we booked something small. Not a tour, but a salsa dance lesson instead. Yani, a slim, smiling Cuban woman in sporty attire, came to us, and the salsa lesson began in the courtyard of our accommodation. I had danced salsa once before in Madrid, but that was a long time ago. For Kevin, it was his first salsa lesson ever. Yani started by teaching us to pay attention to the rhythm before moving on to the actual steps. Right in the middle of the dance lesson, we had to quickly move everything inside to the kitchen as one of the typical Caribbean storms started brewing. The power went out, but fortunately, we still had enough daylight. This salsa lesson was a small ray of hope amidst our otherwise rather disastrous stay in Trinidad. The sudden cash exchange without using a bank gave us new hope for the rest of the trip.
Goodbye Trinidad – Farewell forever!
In the evening, I finally dared to have my first meal of the day. Mildrey had cooked a healthy chicken soup, and again, there was chamomile tea. Kevin got a regular dinner, including appetizer and dessert. It felt good to have something in my stomach, and even though I found Mildrey rather unsympathetic overall, she was indeed a very good cook. The electricity still hadn’t returned, although the storm had long passed. “Yes, it’s a problem,” said Mildrey, and the same form of resignation in her eyes was evident, the same resignation she had when talking about the pharmacy situation. In the evening, we went out again because I had read that you could dance salsa in the evenings at Casa de la Música in the center of Trinidad, and we wanted to reap the benefits of our dance lesson. Plus, we wanted to exchange money once again. Unfortunately, there was nothing happening at Casa de la Música because the electricity still hadn’t come back, and the money exchange store was closed too. One of the cashiers was standing in front and suggested we should try again around 9:00 am tomorrow. Sadly, our colectivo to Santa Clara was scheduled to pick us up at 8:00 am, so that wasn’t an option, and we couldn’t exchange money. At least now we knew that there was, of course, a highly illegal way to exchange money at MLC Stores, so we would try our luck again in Santa Clara. Using the light from our smartphone lamps, we navigated back through Trinidad’s still unlit cobblestone streets to our room with the cockroaches and looked forward to finally being able to leave the next day.
Not only us but also Lluis traveled from Santa Clara to Trinidad the next day. Mildrey gave us contact details of “friends” where we could stay there. I thanked her and nodded politely. In truth, we had already booked an Airbnb, and even if we hadn’t, I wouldn’t want to stay in accommodation recommended by them on principle. We settled the bill for the accommodation and food, of course, this could only be done in Euros and in cash. I couldn’t help but notice that Mildrey charged me even for the chamomile tea on the morning when I felt so unwell, and the chicken soup was allegedly a 3-course meal. Yes, I could have objected, but I just wanted to leave. So, I handed her the money. Since I didn’t have the exact amount, I received the change in CUP, but at least the exchange rate was somewhat fair. The last few minutes before our colectivo arrived, I used to talk to her about the money situation in Cuba, about the change from CUC and CUP to only CUP, but also the prevalence of Euros. This time, I saw an even greater sense of resignation and sadness in her face. “The situation is bad. Everything is getting worse,” she said. There was nothing more to add.
A noticeably undersized vintage car rattled along the cobblestone street and stopped in front of our accommodation. So, this was our colectivo to Santa Clara. While the driver remained in the car, his companion got out. He was a grim-looking, intimidatingly large man. “50€, and I only want Euros,” was his greeting. “I don’t have the exact amount,” I said. He looked at me with a mixture of incomprehension and anger: “Then go inside your casa and ask your hosts if they can change the bills for you. I don’t want CUP, only Euros.” Everything in me resisted giving this man even a cent. On the other hand, this was our only way to get to Santa Clara. Kevin and I both wanted to leave Trinidad. Additionally, we wouldn’t be traveling alone; Lluis was with us, and he handed the demanded Euros to the man without hesitation. So, I had no choice but to ask Mildrey to change my bills for me and also hand him the money. He counted the money, signaled to the driver to load our luggage, and then made it clear that we should get in. The car was a standard-sized sedan, meaning two seats in the front for the driver and the companion and three seats in the back. The back seat had been moved forward, reducing the size of the trunk, allowing for an additional row of 3 seats. I initially sat in the back but quickly realized that not only did my head touch the rear windshield and legroom practically didn’t exist, but also, the seats were wet for some reason. I promptly moved a row forward. Kevin followed suit since the journey was supposed to last 2 hours. Shortly after, Lluis also got in, and the car set off. On the way, the colectivo picked up three people from France. Each time, the man acted as unpleasant and threatening as he did with us. I marveled at the courage of a Frenchwoman who apparently traveled the country alone and told him directly that she didn’t have Euros, only CUP. The man looked like he was about to have a fit of rage, but he managed to control himself. He asked her if she was really sure, and when she affirmed, he reluctantly accepted the CUP. The bravery of the Frenchwoman impressed me, and I struck up a conversation with her in the car. She was traveling the country for a month and had only 360€ in cash, which was, of course, far too little. She gave us the tip to ask our hosts if they could receive money through PayPal (of course, only via VPN). This way, we could also exchange money without cash, but finding people with a PayPal account was challenging. This tip gave us a bit more optimism for the next destination. Fortunately, the unfriendly money collector left as soon as we were all on board (it seemed he was only managing the finances), and finally, we were on our way: out of Trinidad and heading to Santa Clara!
