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CUBA UNSPOILED; DAY 9

3/23/2016

THE FINAL DAY

My final day in Cuba was in many ways, like the final day of a trip anywhere. After breakfast in the hotel, I had to pack, repack and check that I didn't forget anything.
My flight wasn't until the afternoon so I didn't have to leave the hotel until 11 or so. In the meantime, I met up with Sharon and we went across the street to tour the Museum of the Revolution. My knowledge of the revolution was faint, and so I was anxious to learn more about it, even it if I was only going to get the Cuban side of the story.
The museum was housed in the former presidential palace of Fulgencio Batista, and one of the first things we were told upon entering was that the bullet holes in the walls and the blood stains were from a battle that took place during a fight for control of the palace.
I took the statement at face value until I got closer to the supposed bullet holes and inspected them. The walls were made of marble and any bullet striking them would not have made clean hole like the ones I was looking at. They would have shattered the marble into a million pieces instead. Also, the holes were too large, larger than a .50 caliber round. They were so large in fact that I could stick my finger right through them and feel the hollow space underneath. I began to smell a rata!
We moved on through the rest of the museum and found it to be interesting, if not completely stilted toward the Cuban revolutionaries and filled with angry adjectives and superlatives like "tyrannical," "cowardly" and "filthy" pointed at us Yankee Imperialists.
Noticeably absent from most of the narrative about the heroic revolutionary battles were mentions of Che. After his Whack-A-Mole presence throughout the rest of the country, it was strange to see him listed as nary a footnote in the struggle. I had to ask, was my old pal Che off getting his sexy head-shots done, whilst his comrades in arms were in the process of getting their's shot off? As revolutionaries go, was Che as phony as this...

But I didn't have much time to waste trying to discover where my pal the faux revolutionary had gone. and so we continued on to more dubious displays of the conflict.
At one point, we passed a wall supposedly covered in the blood splatters from the brave revolutionaries. Again, I was skeptical and noted that the stains were mostly uniform and most importantly, had the shape of the splatters going the wrong way. Nice try Fidel, just not good enough to fool a crime writer who has taken a class in blood splatter patterns.

After the museum, I went back to the hotel, cleaned up and finished packing. A short time later, I was on my way to the airport and heading home.
    I leave Cuba richer for the experience, and I'm completely glad that I came. I saw some incredible sights, met some great folks in the cycling group, and most of all, met some wonderful Cuban people.
   I return home to the country that I love, and the one that I'm fiercely proud of. I have just a few souvenirs of my trip (below), but I also brought home a lifetime of memories that will never fade.
   Glad you could come along for the ride.
Christopher J. Lynch

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CUBA UNSPOILED - DAY 8

3/22/2016

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LAST RIDE AND A PIZZA PARTY!!

I wore my WOW CUBA cycling jersey down to breakfast today and had not one, but two people ask about it and where they could get one. I told them about the tour and I directed them to Danny if they wanted to purchase one, but I doubt if it went any further than that.
After breakfast, I headed up to my room to brush my teeth and clean up before meeting the others on the bus for what would be our final ride of the trip. We drove up into the hills above Havana, passing some interesting sights, including the Cuban national baseball stadium.
It was on the drive to our destination that I realized I had screwed up. At breakfast this morning, I had worn my cycling clothes, but not my clip-less bike shoes. I was wearing sandals. Darn it! Oh well, I haven’t crashed, gotten lost, or gotten sick on this trip, so if the worst thing I have to endure is riding in sandals, I’ll be all right.
We ended up at an old Russian built restaurant that had a familiar Russian Orthodox Church look to it’s architecture. We took a group picture, and then the WOW CUBA team reinstalled the original pedals on my bike so I could ride in sandals. They would have had to reinstall the original pedals at the end of this ride anyway, so it was no big deal.

We saddled up and headed out about 9:15 for what would be another easy downhill ride, albeit with a rough road again. I guess the road maintenance crews only went up so high.
The scenery on this trip was still rural for the most part, but without the fields of crops. Along the way, I saw a couple of young girls who were hanging out in front of their simple house. It looked like such a great shot, I asked them if I could take their picture and they readily agreed.
One of the nicest things about the Cubans is that they are always accommodating, even to tourists like us ,who, in their eyes, must look to be taking pictures of nothing special. I resolved to get more people shots in the little bit of time I had left in the country.
The scenery rolled by quickly and my lack of clip-less shoes didn’t hamper me at all. In fact, it felt good to have my little “piggies” being air-cooled.

At about 15k, we stopped for a break along side the road and had some, guess what - bananas, before continuing on.

At 26k we concluded our ride for the day at our lunch spot, The Piccolo Pizzeria. Woo-Hoo! Pizza! There were quite a few things I missed on the trip: a thick steak, a hamburger, Mexican food and of course, the food of the Gods – Pizza. Why don’t you checkout our little lunch spot with me here.

The restaurant had a small garden as well as pens of animals and I wondered how many ended up on the pizzas. We had several different varieties of pizzas, and they were all good. The experience made all the better as they were washed down with some ice cold Crystal Cuban Beer.

After lunch, we headed back to the Sevilla Hotel in Havana and were told that there was going to be an optional informal walking tour of the city by our one of our tour guides, Nelson. Most people opted out of the tour and did their own thing. I decided to go and joined Sharon and Jim – both from Washington DC – on the tour.
It was a nice tour and Nelson knew his way around the city pretty well, including where to get the best deal on some of the world famous, Cuban cigars. I haven’t smoked cigars in quite a while, but not buying at least a few while you are here was almost sacrilege and akin to not seeing the Empire State Building if you were in New York, so I imbibed.
Jim was a cigar aficionado as well as a fluent Spanish speaker, so I took his recommendations and let him do the talking. He made sure that he was getting his money’s worth and left out of there with dozens of stogies. I purchased 5 and gave him one as a gift for lending his expertise.
We returned to the Sevilla a few hours later and had some time to start packing before dinner. I had made a critical error by using a duffel bag to carry my things instead of a suitcase and was paying for it now. The bag was starting to rip open on the ends, and I was afraid all of the contents would spill out on the trip home. Danny from WOW CUBA was there to rescue me with a roll of duct tape, which did the trick.

We headed out for dinner in our now familiar bus and drove into a residential neighborhood. At one point, a man dressed in a chef’s uniform and sitting on a chair on the side of the road, stood and directed us to turn right at the corner. We were to learn that a very wealthy family had turned their magnificent home into a very classy restaurant and this was where we were to have our final group dinner.
The home was fantastic and had beautiful botanical gardens, verandas, and a wonderful wine cellar. It was owned by an Italian Sommelier who had married a Cuban woman, and they had entertained many of Cuba’s elite. Judging by the paintings that graced the walls, the beard himself – Fidel, might have dined here as well.
For dinner tonight I had Spanish Paella, which was enormous and could have fed at least 3 people. I tried to share, but some of the dishes the others had ordered were equally as generous, so I had to leave a lot of it untouched. Oh well, going out with a bang with the final big meal of the trip.

We got back to our hotel at about 10, for what would be my final night in Cuba. I said goodbye to Randy as he was having to leave at around 5 to catch his flight, and we agreed to keep in touch regarding me accompanying him on a cycling trip from Seattle to San Diego this summer. Stay tuned for that one.
In the meantime, while don’t you meet me back here tomorrow for my final day in Cuba.

Dulces sueños.

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CUBA UNSPOILED: DAY 7

3/21/2016

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THE BAY OF PIGS REDUX

I was up at 6:15 and had a quick breakfast with the throngs of tourists at our hotel. I can only imagine the chaos when the travel restrictions are completely lifted, and a tidal of Americans hit Cuba to vacation. From what we were told – and could observe – the country is at the breaking point currently, and cannot handle any more visitors. Hotels are overbooking their rooms, and many people show up to find out that they don’t have a place to stay for the night. Not a good situation to be in when you’re in a country where your credit card doesn’t work.

We were on our bikes by 9:15 and heading down the road toward Montemar Natural Park and Caleta Buena – the Good Cove. It was cooler today and the ride took us through, like it always did, farmland devoted to growing some of the country’s staples: bananas, mangos and rice.

After about 15k, we took a nice break at a small restaurant/bar located in the natural park. An armed guard stood by keeping an eye on us, and at one point, ducked behind some plants to camouflage himself. It didn’t work.
Next to the structure was an odd shaped concrete structure that I would learn later was a monument to one of the revolutionaries who died holding back the Bay of Pigs invaders (the mercenaries) We had fruit, crackers and several fresh juices before heading back out.

Along the way to our destination at the Caleta Buena, we took a slight detour to Playa Giron, a village that is considered to be the focal point for the Bay of Pigs invasion. Randy and I rode up the Museo de Giron but it was closed for renovation.
We snapped a few pictures of some of the military hardware outside, including a Hawker Sea Fury, a vintage propeller driven plane that none the less had a few air to ground missiles improperly mounted under the wings. Oh well, it wouldn’t be the first or last time on this trip we saw examples of the Cuba propaganda machine playing fast and loose with the facts. As Fidel himself might say, “Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain.”
After Playa Giron, we could either ride the remaining 5k to our destination or take the bus. Randy and I decided to ride and the 5k went by fast as we each worked on topping each other with our crazy stories. FYI: Randy beat me hands down. You don’t ride all over the world without having a few great beer stories to tell.

We finally pulled into the Caleta Buena and it was everything I could have hoped for: a natural cove with beautiful turquoise water teeming with tropical fish. WOW CUBA has 3 different tours and I settled on this one for just this reason: to be able to snorkel in a spectacular setting that was once one of the most contested and significant flashpoints in strained Cuban/American relations.
Besides the swimming and snorkeling, lunch was also to be served here. Someone reminded me not to miss it, but I couldn't care less about eating. As far as I was concerned I probably gained more than 5 pounds on this trip and I could eat later. In fact, it felt good to be hungry for a change as opposed to bloated. For now I wanted to get wet.
And wet I did as I quickly rented a snorkel and mask and went straight for the water. It did not disappoint and I felt like I was inside a dentist aquarium. The water was teeming with corral, sea urchins, and fish of every design and color that you could imagine. I stayed in the water as long as I could and then quickly showered and joined my fellow travelers on the bus as we headed to Havana. It was the only time of the trip that I was the last person on the bus.

We drove about 3 hours back to our final destination, Havana and the Hotel Sevilla. It was a very nice old hotel and we were serenaded by a group of musicians that you can listen to here.

We got checked in, cleaned up and before long, it was time to head out to dinner at the amazing San Cristobal paladar. (FYI: This is the same restaurant that Obama was to eat at during his visit)

Rather than take the bus to the restaurant though, we were treated to something I had seen in Havana earlier, but had not partaken in; we were going to be transported via pedal cab to our destination. The cabs held 2 passengers besides the driver/pedaler and it was a blast going through the streets of Havana this way. In fact, I think there’s room to squeeze in one more here.

Dinner was a great multi-course affair that you can see by the images below and we all had a great time.

After dinner, I think we all expected to return to our hotel the same human-powered way we had arrived. Instead, regular taxis were procured. Note here my dedicated arm-chair traveler that I am using the term, “regular,” rather loosely. My ride, along with 3 of my fellow cyclists, was in a vintage Russian made Lada. It was excruciating, and I think I would have rather been on the other side of the island and being water-boarded in Gitmo.

The car had a tiny four-cylinder engine, and a carburetor that I swear fed through the passenger compartment. The smell of gasoline was so powerful my eyes actually burned, and I was dizzy and nauseous by the time we got back to the Sevilla Hotel – and I worked the majority of my life in an oil refinery!

Sickened or not, I wasn’t about to let it slow me down and Randy and another of the riders Sharon and I ventured out into the Cuban evening. I was a nice stroll, and we found the streets teeming with life and vibrant. At one point, we came upon one of the country’s major art centers, which was hosting an elegant ballet tonight. Image below.

That's all for today folks. I'm going to hit the bed and get ready for my next day in this amazing and surprising country. Why don't you grab a few winks yourself, and meet me right back her tomorrow?
Until then, hasta la vista!!

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CUBA UNSPOILED: DAY 6

3/20/2016

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MY PAL CHE'

After another buffet breakfast, we climbed onto the bus and headed out to central Cienfuego for an informal walking tour. Like most in the country, Cienfuegos was laid out around a Central Square, or parque. As we departed our bus a couple of blocks from the square, the first thing we were greeted with was yes, another billboard of that good ole Marxist guerilla, Che’ Guevara. By this point on the trip, I don’t know if I was sicker of seeing food put in front of me, or his self-assured mug staring at me from signs, T-shirts, and from stickers on cars and buses.
No matter, we were let go to our own devices and instructed to rendezvous back with the bus in an hour or so. Randy and I started out sight-seeing and shopping together, but before long, he drifted one way and I went the other.
Cienfuego is called the Pearl of the Caribbean, and with its beautiful architecture, colorful buildings, and wide boulevards, it’s easy to see why. Besides the photos below, you can also take of glimpse of it here.

Unlike many of the tourists, I passed on purchasing a Panama Hat in Cienfuego (I can buy one in downtown LA) and, after much internal debate, bought a Comandante hat with a red star, the flag of Cuba and – you guessed it – an image of my buddy Che. My reasoning being that if I was going to come back with a souvenir of Cuba, it better be something I can’t get anywhere else.
I met up with the others at the bus and we departed Cienfuego to travel high up into the mountains to the Hotel Hanabanilla. We weren’t traveling here to check in, but to traverse the highest lake in Cuba and to have lunch.

The lake was also named Hanabanilla, and it sat at 364 meters above sea level, or about 1,200 feet. The lake had been constructed as a joint project with the United States and served as a reservoir for the inhabitants below as well as having some excellent Largemouth Bass fishing.
We took a short boat ride across the lake to have lunch at a restaurant that reminded me very much of the old Tiki Room attraction at Disneyland – minus the singing parrots. After climbing the steps from the lake to the restaurant, we sat under a huge palm frond cover at an enormous table that could seat 30.
The lunch today was pork, along with the standard rice and black beans. The best part of the meal was some fresh tomatoes as well as some great Cuban cheese.

After lunch, we returned via boat to the hotel and began getting ready for our cycling today. This would be the first and only time during the tour that we would be cycling in the afternoon and it was getting pretty warm, which caused a bit of concern. But the road would be mostly downhill and flat, so we wouldn’t have to exert ourselves too much.
One issue that concerned me more than anything though, was the condition of the road itself. It was windy and downhill, but worse of all; it was the worst road we had been on during our trip. It was so damaged that you had to maintain complete focus to avoid the giant potholes, all the while trying to control your downhill speed. Even the pavement around the potholes was washboard rough and I soon gained an appreciation for the term ascribed to bicycles when they first appeared on the American landscape: Bone-shakers.
Eventually the road leveled out and became more accommodating. We ended our ride 45k (28miles) later and hopped onto the bus for a nice air-conditioned ride back to our hotel.

Dinner tonight was at a very nice restaurant, which was packed with Americans and Canadians alike. I had my best meal yet in Cuba, fresh fish cooked in oil with roasted tomato. I washed it down with a delicious and picture perfect Pina’ Colada.

Catch up with me tomorrow as we head to the highlight of my trip to Cuba, snorkeling in the beautiful, and infamous, Bay of Pigs.

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CUBA UNSPOILED: DAY 5

3/19/2016

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CRABS AND COMRADES

Breakfast this morning was a buffet at the hotel, which felt pretty much like any other buffet in a resort that you could imagine in Miami, Vegas, or Cancun; a bunch of overweight Anglos being served by a Hispanic work crew.
Not that I had much time anyway, but I was unable to get onto the Internet. I only made a half-assed attempt at it though as I found that I really wasn’t missing my cellphone, emails, or texts. I wasn’t here to stay connected to a virtual world, I was here to ride, meet people, see, smell, hear and taste in a real world, one that was a world away from my own.
Our ride today took us along the beautiful southern coast of Cuba. But as they say, “there are no free lunches,” and we had to buck another headwind for at least part of the trip. That was fine with me, as I would rather deal with a headwind along the Cuban shoreline, than be going downhill with a tailwind at my back riding through the streets of LA. If you’d like to compare for yourself, click here.
After a few kilometers we turned and lost the headwind. The road here also became flatter. But the improved road conditions didn’t do much to help the land crabs that were squashed on top of the pavement. They lived across the road from the shore and had to survive two trips across it. Once to get to the shore to lay their eggs, and then once again to return. Darwinism had found its way to this remote corner of the world, and the highway was littered with either crab body parts, or completely flattened “Highway Doilies.”

We passed a prawn farm next to the road before stopping at a casa where the owner served us fresh coconut chopped open with a machete. Before long several in our group rode up and began taking in the treat, as well as a hen and her chicks who were more than happy to pick up the crumbs.
Next to the casa was a makeshift memorial to several Cuban agents who had snuck into the US and infiltrated an anti-Castro group in Florida. They were exposed, captured, and are still being held prisoners in the US.

We rode just a few more kilometers to our final destination, an outdoor bar and restaurant next to another Casa Particular’ where we would have lunch.

It was great spot just off the side of the road and a cold Crystal Beer tasted just about right on this hot day. After sucking a brew-ski down, we all stepped toward the rear of the bar, and walked down a short dirt road to the Casa Particular’. Casa Particular was the term given to homes where people have turned to making extra money by either renting out rooms, serving meals, or in some cases, doing both. Remember what I said earlier about the Cubans being ahead of the curve with Uber? Well they were just as advanced on the concept of Air B&Bs.
We had a great lunch of lobster, fish and prawns that really hit the spot.

After leaving the casa, we headed further west toward Cienfuegos and to a botanical garden that was the oldest in Cuba. It was created in 1901and had thousands of plants and trees from all over the world.
Our tour guide in the gardens was a wonderful Cuban woman who spoke 3 languages as well as having an encyclopedic knowledge of the flora in the gardens.

With the tour concluded, we got back on the bus and headed toward Cienfuegos proper. In contrast to our lodging the night before, tonight’s hotel would be not only bare-bones and stark, but came with a rather unique history. It was called the Pasacaballos Hotel, and was built by the Russians in the early eighties. The building was originally a dormitory for Russian workers who were building a nuclear power plant nearby.
Unfortunately for the Russians, but fortunately for the Cubans, a little accident called Chernobyl occurred around this time. The plant being built in Cuba was based on the Chernobyl design and after the catastrophic accident, the Cubans promptly told the Russians, “Nyet!”
The building was totally Spartan and had all the charm and ambience of a substation station. Half of the fixtures didn’t work, but it did have a large outdoor pool, which we all invaded as soon as we tossed our bags into our rooms.
It was a salt-water pool, and I had been in them before. But the salinity was higher than the ocean we had just swam in yesterday, and my eyes were burning from irritation. Now I know what contact lenses feel like.
I got out and showered, noting that the towels in the room smelled like fish. Before dinner I took a short nap which felt heavenly.

Our dinner tonight was at a rustic looking spot in town and we sat upstairs on a wooden patio deck. Afterward we took a short stroll around the neighborhood before driving back to the hotel and retiring to bed.
Drab Soviet construction or not, I was exhausted and fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.

More adventures tomorrow. Catch you on the flip side!!!

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CUBA UNSPOILED: DAY 4

3/18/2016

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A NEW DAY, AND A NEW TOWN

My favorite misfiring rooster was back up and hard at his job at 5 a.m. this morning. I got up, put in some earplugs to block out the racket, and then fell fast back to sleep.
I woke up at 6:30 - far later than I wanted to - and had just a few minutes to finish up before breakfast. I was glad I packed the night before.
We had the same breakfast as the previous day, and then bid adieu to the Don Florencia hotel and the beautiful town of Sancti Spiritus, Cuba.
Several of our group were sore from the previous day, and I could tell that some of them were wondering if here, on only the second day of riding, had gotten themselves in too deep. No worries though as you always were just a head pat away from enjoying the scenery in air-conditioned comfort.
Today’s ride was set to be a little longer at 65k, and would take us to the outskirts of the lovely town of Trinidad. We were expected to have a tailwind, but this would be negated by a couple of steep hills about 12k out of town. Oh well, I was here to ride, not to worry about riding.

In fact, the ride wasn’t that bad at all. The palms were blowing in the right direction, and you just can’t beat a bucolic scene to buoy the spirit and keep you pedaling. In fact, why don’t you see what I’m talking about for yourself and come along on the ride with me here.

After cresting the hills, we stopped for a break and a snack at about 15k in a small town that was quite busy. The fare today was crackers with a slice of Cuban white cheese, and some Timba, or Guava paste. It was delicious and I resolved to locate it at home and make it for myself. In fact, here’s the link if you’re interested: http://www.cubanfoodmarket.com/mm5/merchant.mvc?Screen=TFM_PROD&Product_Code=GUA00003&Category_Code=10303

Back on the road I was struck by all the forms of transportation that the Cubans use: horse drawn carts, buses, trucks, antique American cars, and the ever-present Russian VAZ 2105. Some people of course had no form of transportation, and it wasn’t uncommon to see them standing out on the road and holding out a wad of pesos in their hand trying to procure a ride. I guess in Cuba, your thumb just didn’t cut it when it came to getting a lift.
We took another break at a small rancho another 15k up the road and met a group of young women from Nova Scotia who were touring Cuba on their own. They had all recently graduated from nursing college, and it was their reward to themselves. They seemed to be quite capable cycle tourists and hit it off swimmingly with our group, especially with the fellow Canucks.

We hit the road for the final push of the day, trying our best to avoid the ever-present road apples. If you don’t believe me, take a look here.

Before long, the landmark tower of Trinidad, Cuba came into view. Trinidad is one of the best-preserved cities in the Caribbean from the time when the sugar trade was the main industry in the region and is a popular tourist attraction. The tower was used to keep an eye on the slaves that worked the sugar cane fields in days gone by.
At the base of the tower an open-air market had sprung up, and we were offered a chance to do a little shopping before getting on the bus to head into Trinidad proper. I bought a nice tablecloth for Char, but passed on the Coke can cameras. LOL

In Trinidad, we had lunch – yes, we were eating again. The food was good but the service was slow, and by now, several of us were beginning to feel bloated, as well as realizing that the time to continually stop to eat was cutting into our sightseeing and down-time.

After lunch, we finally got to go on our walking tour of Trinidad, albeit, an hour or so late. There were more shops to buy trinkets, some historical buildings, as well as some street performers.

By late afternoon, we climbed onto the bus for the final time to head to our digs for the evening, the all inclusive Brisas Trinidad del Mar Resort. It was the fanciest place we had seen on our trip so far and was fancier than most places I had ever stayed in.
The best part of the resort though was it’s access to the water and the Caribbean. Most of us simply dropped our bags in our room and, as they say, hit the beach! The water was great and it felt so good after a day’s ride. Still, we couldn’t stay in too long because, you guessed it, it was time to eat again and we had to get cleaned up for dinner.
Dinner was a buffet in a large outdoor dining room with a stuffed oxen drawn cart as its centerpiece. The food was just okay, and the service was less than stellar. Despite the luxuriousness of the resort, most of would say by the end of the trip that this was probably the least favorite of all of our stays.
Still, it gave Randy (Mr. 77 countries toured by bike) and I a chance to catch up. Although I don’t think I could ever catch up and hear about all of his incredible adventures.

I got to bed later than I wanted, but fell fast asleep. Come with me tomorrow as we ride along the coast to our next destination, Cienfuegos.

Hasta manana!!

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CUBA UNSPOILED: DAY 3

3/17/2016

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DAY 3
THE FIRST RIDE

As I had yesterday, I awoke to the sound of a rooster crowing. Unlike Havana though, this was a solo act, albeit one by a rooster who didn’t have an alarm clock, or a good sense of solar position; it was 4:30 a.m. and pitch black outside.
No worries though as I rose, brushed my teeth – making sure not to rinse my brush in the tap water – and started on my journal. It was only day 3 and I was already 2 ½ days behind. Oh well.
The group breakfasted at 7 on a light meal of eggs any style, bread and fruit. As we ate, you could feel a sense of nervous excitement in the air. The first ride in a group setting comes with a bit of peer pressure as part of the bargain. No one in the group wants to be last, or to hold up the group, or worst of all, get in a silly crash.
As cycle tours go though, you couldn’t have asked for better support. Besides having all the tools and parts necessary to maintain a smooth ride, the bus would perform periodic sweeps and if you felt the need to sit out the rest of the ride, they would stop and pick you up. All you had to do was pat your head. There was no shame whatsoever in dropping out and before the tour was over, several riders, both experienced and neophyte alike, would take advantage of the exit strategy.
We drove a few miles out of town and stopped at a gas station, which would be our launch point. The bikes were pulled out of the trailer and reassembled. Besides running a first class tour, WOW CUBA has the best bikes of any tour company in Cuba; $1,000. Specialized hybrids.
After doing safety checks on the bikes, we headed to the restroom for a final potty break.
One of the things you learn quickly in Cuba is that a trip to the bathroom is as much an adventure as anything else is, plus it’s costly. Most facilities have an attendant that you are expected to tip, usually 1 CUC, as part of the deal. For your “kook” you got a small wad of TP, the satisfaction of knowing that you are helping out someone who makes the equivalent of $18 per month – but not much more. Many of the restrooms had no soap, no towels to dry your hands, and a lot of times, even toilet seats. But you just grinned and “bared it,” rationalizing that as a cyclist, you were used to tormenting your derriere, and that if cold porcelain was the worst that could happen to your precious “culo,” on this trip, you were doing just fine.

The ride today would be about 55k, or 34 miles, and by 8:30 we were saddled up and heading out into a fairly strong headwind. It wasn’t too bad and I was used to worse with the breezes that typically blew in off shore at home. Also, this was an “out and back” ride, so by suffering through a headwind on the way out, you were rewarded with a good push on the way back in.
The road today was busy with horse drawn wagons and trucks carrying loads of freshly cut sugar cane from the fields that we rode past. In the distance every once in a while, you could see the smoke as a field was burned after the crop of cane was brought in.
Besides the sugar cane, there was other agriculture as well: bananas, mangos, onions, and garlic. Cuba is an agricultural nation, and mostly sustenance, if even that. They export only 20% of what they grow, and have to import about 70% of their foodstuffs to feed their population.
One of the byproducts of riding in a farming country - and one that relied so heavily on equine power - were the unique hazards of road apples and sugar cane that had fallen off of trucks. One hazard that didn’t exist though was the cars and trucks that passed us by. In this country they’re not afraid to use their horns, and it was comforting to know that they saw us. Still, I was glad to have my trusty rear view mirror with me.

We had a short break at about 15 km and Danny, our guide, had fresh pineapple slices ready for us when we arrived. If you were really lucky and caught it just right, you would get to drink the juice out of the cored pineapple.

After the break, we regrouped and rode another 10 k to the small town of Jarahueca where we had still more snacks. It was here that Danny announced that anyone who felt up to it, could add another 10k onto the ride on the return and continue all the way back into town. I was game as were several of the others in the group, and so we set off once again, this time with a welcome tailwind at our back.
After just a few miles, we came upon a tobacco drying shed that Nelson had arranged for us to see. It was a large structure with palm fronds for walls that acted as a desiccant to dry out the green leaves. It was very interesting and the workers were very accommodating. If you’d like to take a tour, you can tag along with me here

After touring the shed, I continued on with about 2/3 of group to ride all the way into Sancti Spiritus to hotel. The ride was a lot of fun, and if you don’t mind sitting on the handle bars, you can see for yourself here

We arrived back in town around 2:30, dropped off bikes and ate lunch at a very nice restaurant in town. By this point on the tour, it was becoming apparent that none of us were going to starve to death on this trip. In fact, you got a little tired of eating and always feeling full, and I know that I gained weight on the trip. Go figure; gaining weight on a cycling tour for gosh sake.
Back at the hotel it was still more decadence as several of us climbed into the hotel’s Jacuzzi s to soak our tired bones. Truth be told, I wasn’t really that sore as a 30 mile ride was nothing for me, but it was great to get in the water none the less.
After the Jacuzzi, I worked some more on my journal and downloaded pics and videos onto my laptop. And before long, it was time to head out to eat – again.
Dinner tonight was at a local restaurant/bar with live music. The food was so-so, or asi-asi, but the music was good, and the place was lively and fun. I bought a CD before heading back to the hotel to pack. Tomorrow would be another day, another ride and another location. If you’re still with me, be back here tomorrow to continue our travels of Cuba.
Until then, adios and buenas noches.

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CUBA UNSPOILED

3/16/2016

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DAY 1
GETTING THERE
I arrived in Jose Marti Airport in Havana, Cuba FROM Cancun, Mexico on a Russian built Antonov 158 at app. 5:45 p.m. local time. This was the culmination of a torturous route that had me on a red-eye out of LA, through two airports in Mexico, and spending about 18 hours traveling in what should have been a 5-hour jaunt. Granted, I didn’t do my homework as well as I could have, and I could have likely strung together some different options, but here I was.

After passing through immigration, I exchanged some US dollars for Cuban Convertible Pesos, which are called CUC’s, (pronounced “kooks”). This is the preferred currency for foreigners to do business in and are close to a 1 to 1 exchange, not including the service charge. The Cubans themselves have to use a currency called CUP’s and are devalued at 26.5 to 1. I procured a taxi ride in a modern foreign sedan into Havana proper and to the Lido Hotel, thus beginning my adventure in a country that I had never dreamed I would be in.

A CUC on the left, and CUPs on the right. The CUPs shown equal about 26 cents.

The highway out of the airport was clean, modern, and in good repair. The driver, a young Cuban man, and a snappy dresser, drove at a high rate of speed, deftly knifing his way around slower vehicles and pedestrians. The vehicles were in large part vintage Pre-Embargo Chevys and Fords, mostly from the 1950’s, and far past their prime. The pedestrians, on the other hand, might not ever live to see their prime, as it soon became apparent that vehicles seemed to have - at least a tacit - right of way here.
The scenery began to change as we got off the main highway and closer to our destination. The roads here became bumpier and filled with potholes that the driver had to dodge. The streets were narrow and surrounded by buildings, that in the fading light of the day, appeared to be worn and decayed. Pedestrians wandered about in the middle of the road or huddled in small groups. It looked like a scene straight out of a movie of a war-torn ghetto, and a good place to get mugged or solicited. In short order I would learn that I was incorrect about the former, but correct about the later.
We arrived at the Lido Hotel and, judging by the exterior, I wondered what my room would be like. I had told the tour company when my first hotel reservation fell through that I wasn’t picky and to just find me a place for the night. I guess they took my suggestion at face value.
The room was small, dim, and hot. The bellhop set my bags down and turned on the small AC unit, which sounded as if it was going to have to work overtime just to get the room to a comfortable temp. Oh well, I had just spent a day and a half in airports and cramped planes. As long as the shower worked and the sheets were reasonably clean, I would be a happy camper.
After cleaning up, I decided to brave the local culture and stepped outside the hotel and onto the street, staying close to the entrance and with my back against the wall. A couple of hookers came by trying to offer their wares, but other than that, no one caused me any concern. I decided to venture out.
Now that I was on foot, I was able to get a better look at my surroundings. The buildings were indeed distressed and in sad shape, but the loiters and pedestrians seemed very unthreatening. I felt better already.
I made my way down the street toward the mercado where all of the action seemed to be taking place. Several young people were hanging out in small groups and talking, and street vendors were selling an assortment of local fruits: coconuts, papaya and small Cuban bananas, known as “Monkey Fingers.” In the background, Spanish or Cuban music spilled out from the surrounding buildings and onto the streets below. It reminded me of a local street scene and I imagined that it happened on an almost nightly basis.
After strolling around for a while and being careful not to loose my bearings, I returned to my hotel and went up to the dining room. It was almost 8 o’clock and I had a dinner of bread, chicken, and black beans and rice. I washed it all down with a Buccaneer Beer, one of the popular brews.
After dinner I strolled down to the hotel lobby and bar and had a Mojito. I had been making the legendary cocktails at home prior to my arrival, and I was anxious to see how the locals made them and how they tasted. A couple of people were in here including an Aussie tourist showing the locals a map of his country, and another guy who was romancing a hooker.
The finished product was a slight variation on my gringo versions and tasted delicious, an experience made more savory now that I was in a country that for most of my lifetime had been forbidden fruit.

DAY 2
WOW CUBA TOURS AND MY FELLOW RIDERS
I slept well despite the revere outside my window during the night and woke up the old fashion way – to the sound of a rooster crowing. But not just one rooster, a whole slew of roosters who sounded, by their echoes - as if they were homesteading the hallways and apartments of the inhabitants of the neighborhood.
I peered out through the sliding glass door to the balcony by my bed and was taken in by the beauty of the sunrise, as well as the terrible condition of the buildings in the neighborhood. Darkness hides a lot of secrets, and seeing the decayed and neglected buildings in the raw sunlight, was akin to waking up next to a stripper in the morning.
But rather than spend my time slinging words that could not do justice to what I was observing, I decided to get up and take a video of the scene which you can see here

Still wanting to get up close and personal with the neighborhood, I dressed and headed out to the street. 90% of the foot traffic from the night before had dissipated and instead of the loiterers and prostitutes, I saw ordinary people who appeared to be either heading to their jobs or, since it was Sunday, to church. I took a leisurely stroll around the blocks.
The urban blight was quite incredible and some of the worst I have seen in my journeys throughout the third world. In some cases, it looked as if the country had been at war and this was the steep price they had paid. In some ways they had been; it was a war of wills that, depending on whom you talked to, they had either won or lost.
But the thing I noticed most was the kindness of the Cuban people and their willingness to help out. When I couldn’t find a bottle of water to purchase, a man left his business and walked me down the street to help me locate it.
It would be a lie to say that the Cubans were all smiles and gay dispositions, but their resilience in the face of a lifetime of suffering was something no one could take away from them. They were proud of what they had, even if it wasn’t much.
After my walk, I headed back to the hotel for the complimentary breakfast of scrambled eggs, toast, and of course, the local fruits.

By 9:15 in the morning, I was packed, checked out and had the bellhop procure me a cab to rendezvous with the rest of my cycling tour. The meet-up time wasn’t until 11 a.m. and I figured that I didn’t have that far to go, but I had ridden three flights to get to this point and I wasn’t going to be late.
Unlike the modern cab that picked me up at the airport, this was one of the numerous private cabs that the resourceful Cubans had created out of their own vehicles to supplement their income. When your livelihood depended on it, you figured out unique ways to pick up a peso here or there. Americans may think that the Uber concept is freshly minted, but the inhabitants of the largest Caribbean nation were way ahead of the curve on that one.
But to say that this was the cabdriver’s own personal car was a bit of a misnomer as I was to learn that many of the cars were owned by the state and that the drivers leased them back.

MY 55 CHEVY TAXI CAB

The car that pulled up to shuttle me to my destination was a fairly dilapidated 55 Chevy. I decided to hop into the front seat to enhance the experience and after a few minutes, I really did – although not in the way I was imagining.
The smell of gasoline from a rich running carburetor was overpowering inside the car. And after seeing how the driver drove this beast through traffic and realizing that with no seat belt to fasten and that I would launch myself through the windshield in the event of a head-on collision, the luster of the ride wore off quickly. But it was unique to say the least. I was in a vintage American classic and surrounded on the road by others of the same pedigree. In a lot of ways, It was like being in my own personal American Graffiti movie. And there’s plenty of room, so hop on in and enjoy the ride here.

We finally made it to the rendezvous spot although not without the driver having to stop to ask people for directions at least three times, including once to a neighborhood policeman, known in the local lingo as a chivato, or snitch.
Even though I was an hour early, I had a short wait as pretty soon Dan and Nelson from WOW CUBA TOURS showed up and starting prepping bikes for our tour. Dan was the representative of the WOW Company and was the son of the founders. Nelson was a native Cuban who was transitioning from his state job as a teacher into the tour guide business – because it paid more. This was to be the case with a lot if Cubans as you found many members of the service industry; tour guides, hotel workers, etc who were state trained as Doctors, or engineers and teachers.
Our partially assembled bikes were all stored in a large trailer with tools and spare parts. My bike was the first one assembled, and my clipless pedals, which I had brought with me from home, were installed.
Deemed ready for a test drive, Nelson rode with me through the surrounding neighborhood, which was quite nice compared to what I had seen around my hotel earlier. Nelson explained that the reason the houses were so nice was due to the fact that they were owned by high-ranking government officials. In a system where everyone is supposed to be the same, there are still haves and have-nots..

When we returned to the trailer, more riders were arriving. The tour would have a total of 18 riders: 10 Americans, 4 Aussies, 3 Canadians and a European, many of whom had more experience than I had biking in foreign countries. One man, Ron from Canada, had done the WOW Cuba tour 5 times previously, and Randy, a professor from Ohio, was the undisputed king of cycle touring, having bicycled in 77 countries before! With my one - and so far only - bike tour through the South of the US under my belt, I felt pretty humbled by the talent and experience surrounding me.
With everyone’s bike fitted properly to them and outfitted, it was time to hit the road and transit across the island 200 miles to our first destination and launch point, Sancti Spiritus. A large bus pulled up, the bike trailer was hitched, and we were on our way.
The bus was a very nice Chinese model that was very popular in Cuba for tour groups. Our expert driver, Javier, had in his previous life, been a driver for the diplomatic arm of the government and had chauffeured many high ranking officials in various nations. One had to wonder the conversations he had heard and the things that he knew.

OUR TOUR BUS AND TRAILER

Outside of Havana, the road that we traveled on was a nice 3-lane highway built by the Russians when they had been supporting the Cuban government. Similar to the US Interstate highway system, the road had a more nefarious function should it be required; it was large and straight enough for a military plane to land on it. Ever paranoid, and realizing that they had inadvertently rolled out the asphalt equivalent of a red carpet for a foreign invader’s planes, the government stationed large, metal corkscrew shaped contraptions along side the road to be rolled out and used to thwart the enemy if need be.
Enemy aircraft not withstanding, the highway was mostly devoid of vehicles of any type. The ratio of car ownership in Cuba is about 33 out of every 1000 people and it was easy enough to witness it firsthand on this road.
About halfway to our destination, we stopped at a rest stop and had Cuban sandwiches and, if you were so inclined, freshly made Pina Colada’s. Ahhh…mother’s milk.

After our short break, we continued on and arrived in Sancti Spiritus in the late afternoon. In comparison to Havana, it was very nice and clean and the locals seemed to be dressed much nicer. Our first hotel was the Don Florencio and it was located just on a nice tiled street that contained various shops as well as street vendors.
Inside the hotel was just as pleasant and we were checked in and allowed a few hours before our first group dinner at the Meson de la Plaza. Tomorrow would be another day, and our first excursion on our bikes. Tune in tomorrow to ride along with us!!

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THE WRITE PLACE profiled on Fox News

3/2/2016

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I'm very happy and proud to my own personal space, The Write Place, profiled as part of a feature by Fox News re. "Man Sheds" and how they can help your relationship.

I've posted some photos below, and you can read the article here.

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SELF-PUBLISHING SUCCESS STORY: MOLLY JO REALY

2/21/2016

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Molly Jo Realy is a writer, editor, social media ninja, and producer of the weekly Firsts in Fiction podcast. She has been featured in children’s magazines, on blogs and devotional websites, and her short stories have earned her awards and scholarships from nationally acclaimed writing programs. She is the founder of New Inklings Press and author of THE UNEMPLOYMENT COOKBOOK: Ideas for Feeding Families One Meal at a Time, and other books available through her website and on Amazon.

She's here today to tell us about her book and here self-publishing journey. Thanks for stopping by Molly Jo.

Thanks Chris. Glad to be here.

First of all, how long has this book been germinating in you?

It was an idea I had for about three years before I started really putting it together. When my daughter was young and I was unemployed, we learned to be very creative in the kitchen. Friends would often ask for my recipes and after a while I realized I could do this, I could write a cookbook.

After you committed to writing it, about how long did it take to get it completed?

The process took about two years, from collecting and creating recipes to formatting the Cookbook to finding a printer who could do everything we wanted done. The easy part was picking the recipes. Then came the fine-tuning, editing and accuracy. Then came the Cookbook design. My brother is a graphic marketer who develops catalogs and internet websites for other companies. A cookbook wasn’t on his radar but when I explained the layout I wanted, he was able to run with it and after some months of going back and forth, he created the wonderful design.

Were you intimidated at all about going the self-publishing route?

Yes and no. I absolutely wanted to be traditionally published but I also didn’t want to spend a lot of time shopping it around, nor did I want to give up commissions for a book that an agent or publisher didn’t sweat over. I also wanted to keep the cost of the Cookbook more affordable, and was worried that a traditional publisher might mark it up. Since this was the first of what I knew would be many book-babies for me, I wanted to keep the control of it to myself. Sure it would be nice to have a publishing house knock on my door with an offer, but if that doesn’t happen I’m still satisfied.

How did Christopher J. Lynch’s self-publishing seminar help you?

I self-published The Unemployment Cookbook (print) and four Kindle titles several years before meeting Chris. I’ve been to two of his presentations and each time have learned two things: The first is I’m doing it right. My approach to self-publishing and marketing is efficient and productive. The second is, there’s always something new to learn. While some authors are inexperienced, he doesn’t make them feel stupid. His genuine excitement at being able to share his knowledge is helpful, encouraging and manageable. He allows the writer to give themselves permission to take that step without being too intimidated through the process, and he makes himself available for feedback long after the seminars.

How do you feel now that you have a book published?

Crazy excited. About two years after the print release, I published it for Kindle. I get excited every time I log in to my account and see the graph tic up, indicating more sales. It’s also a feeling of satisfaction, a feeling of strength and my own “atta girl!” There’s a confidence that comes when your goals are met, and I’m thrilled to be still climbing that ladder and not just looking up at it.

What’s next for you?

I’m working on what I call a “location mystery”, a story set in a place where the environment is as much a needed character as the protagonist. I have a series in mind. My first and current work in progress is NOLA, a story of a young woman who takes a trip to New Orleans and finds herself caught up in the aftermath of another woman’s death. There’s drama, romance, conflict, a touch of Voodoo and superstition. And lots of good food.

I currently work with other authors in developing their social media platforms, and produce Aaron Gansky’s weekly podcast, Firsts in Fiction.
My goal for 2016 is to publish NOLA, start writing my next location mystery which will be set in Central Park, New York, and continue to help other writers reach their audiences.

It sounds as if you are really busy, so I guess I better not take up too much more of your time. Thanks again for stopping by and sharing your experience with us.

No problem Chris.

To order a copy of THE UNEMPLOYMENT COOKBOOK, click on the image above or here.
You can find her on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, Instagram, and her blog, Frankly, My Dear . . . where she share her thoughts on Faith, Family, Food & Fun, and pretty much tell you what goes on in her corner of the world affectionately known as Bedford Manor (the lesser known one, of course), named after Bedford Falls of “It’s a Wonderful Life” because, after all, it is a wonderful life, isn’t it?

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