The Cuba Cycle Diaries - Week 1

So Communism. How is it? Different, very different that's for sure. Technically Cuba is considered Latin America, but after 10 days here I've completely forgotten all about the village markets of Guatemala, the shopping malls of Venezuela, the hectic bus terminals, and the streets lined with shops selling anything imaginable. Its how I imagine visiting another planet like Mars would be; completely different from anything else you've previously experienced, and hence so fascinating, but not in a million years would you ever want to live there.

La Habana

The capital. This was my landing site, and will be my take off site, when I return to earth. You could describe the infrastructure of Central America as 'falling apart at the seams' whilst being patched up here and there. La Habana, on the face of it, seems to be crumbly apart from the centre. But it was beautiful once, and in a way, in its gradual disintegration, still is. It holds some atmosphere about it that are beyond my literary skills, especially as I rush to get everything down in my limited internet time.

The internet here is far too expensive, and yet at the same time the connexion is frustratingly slow - photos, email and blog posts will be few a far between, but thank you so much for all the emails I have received.

Cycling

My first 4 days were spent in La Habana, and then Santiago de Cuba, the second largest city situated in the south. These cities are now ticked off the list, I am free to explore the countryside on my bike; I never have been much of a city tourist.

The first day...
I started my cycling adventure in Baracoa, a small city in the very south east of the country. Its hot in Cuba at the moment, and hottest in... yep, you guest it, the south east. About 36 degrees on a daily average, which is proving a big challenge for my little Cornish legs and heart.

My first day of cycling I think will go down as one of my best days of cycling so far in my life, even though it was all on concrete. 65 kilometres winding through a spectacular mountain range, cutting through it from the east Caribbean coast of Cuba, and finishing on the south coast. I was first accompanied by a local road cyclists, who is a member of a local cycling team - that's his job, he receives a wage from the government for doing it.

I bought food from locals along the route, home made chocolate bars, sugar-coconut mulsh, bananas, pineapples and mangoes - all being sold on the 'black market'; I was happy to give capitalism a little helping hand, especially to those people who needed it most. Contrary to a lot of the government propaganda, there are still a large number of people living in wooden shacks or 'bohios' in the countryside.

I collected my water from fresh mountain streams, went to the toilet in the woods, and bathed in the glorious Caribbean when I finally reached it at the end of the day. I ended up camping on a beach that night, kept company by evil, evil sand flies and mosquitoes (note to self: don't camp on the beach again).

The next day was long and hot, it was supposed to be 85 km ride, but by 45 km I was done for. I made one major oversight when planning this trip - I haven't ridden a bike for more than 6 months. I ended up staying the night with some locals in their wooden hut. They were very kind people, and it was a great and humbling experience to stay with them. (so much more to write, but no more internet time).

I still have so many questions about this country, like a jigsaw puzzle I am still identifying and collecting the pieces before I can arrive at the answer. And its finding the appropriate people to give me those answers that is half of the challenge; you have to be tactful and sensitive about things here. You are never sure of peoples opinions of the situation, and you never want to offend anyone. I always take the stance of the inquisitive and neutral tourist. Any negative conversations always refer to the head of state (you know who) as 'he', never by name.

anyway, until next time.

!Cuba por bicicleta¡

So I had flights booked to Cuba for a month. Mmm, a month in the Caribbean. I was looking for something a bit different from the same old thing I was coming across in Central America, something to break the trip up a bit; throw some stones at Castro, stick my fingers up at Bush through the gates of Guantanamo bay, visit the infamous 'Bay of Pigs', explore the key places where the 1958 Cuban revolution took place.

Then I started looking at the prices for things in Cuba; it has a very unique approach to tourism, which has hampered the ability for the tight arsed budget backpacker to do things cheaply. But then an idea started to form, spurred on by my recent camping adventures in Mexico. Why the hell not travel Cuba by bike and camp most of the way?


In the theory of course it was very possible; the hardest part appeared to be getting an appropriate bike sorted in Mexico, and fixing it up so that it could carry me and my belongings around Cuba. But I finally managed it, after 1 day in the city of Mèrida, Mexico searching for a bike shop, and then the huge mission to find a place selling the basic tools to help me maintain it on the road. You would have thought the bike shop would have sold the tools, but that requires a bit of initiative on the part of the bike shop owner, and initiative hasn't exactly made it into the curriculum of any education system in Latin America yet. So a whole hot afternoon was spent searching the town increasing my tool shop vocabulary with things like 'Allen keys', 'variable size spanners' etc.

After Mèrida, my next stop was Cancùn, the city which I am flying out to Cuba from. Cancùn is out on its own in Mexico I think. It seems like its a city in the United States, just the language is a bit different. Everybody drives around big wide gridded streets, 15 lanes wide in unnecessarily big 4X4's, driving short distances between well stocked air conditioned shops, and pedestrianism is just some eccentric past time for the minority. Cancùn is like a proper western city, with proper shops selling proper items. There was no open air market to pick up cheap fruit, veg and street food, so I was forced to go to the supermarket; and wow, what an experience. There was a wonderful bakery, making fresh bread and sweet pastries, a huge cheese counter selling all types of cheese, and the meat section.. oh the meat section. I didn't realise how good things were back in the real world. I treated myself to some fresh bread and a big block of Roquefort blue cheese, and went running back to my hotel room like Charlie when he found the golden ticket!


Anyway, yeah, I'm off to Cuba soon to go cycling. Here's a summary of the equipment I'm taking:

• The bike. The bike is a fairly basic, no frills affair, and was the only one in the shop worth getting. It cost about 55 pounds, which isn't bad for what it is; there's not too many parts made of plastic that shouldn't be. I had a rack fitted to the back to allow me to carry a bag on the bike, and I got the shop to box it up for me ready to take on the plane to Cuba.


• Camping stuff. I'm just taking a sleeping mat and a small excuse for a tent. I was deliberating on whether to take a hammock instead of the sleeping mat, but the sleeping mat won.


• Other stuff. I'm taking an alarmingly small amount of things to live off for one month. Just a small rucksack that I will tie to the rack on the back of my bike with a piece of rope. Its going to be a smelly month!

Internet access isn't all that fast and cheap in Cuba, so don't expect many emails replied to, but I'll try and put in the odd blog entry or too when I get the chance.

!Me voy¡

A man without his fridge

Well Mike, as you don't keep your own blog, I'll keep one for you...

Things haven't gone completely to plan in the latest developments in Mike's solar powered fridge project. After returning to the U.K. for a month to continue testing and tweaking the prototype, Mike came across some small print in the published output figures thingys of the solar panels. It turns out they don't quite produce the same amount of power output under the conditions present in Honduras that he thought they did (apparently its too hot and there's too much sun in Honduras). This apparently makes the whole design unfeasible.

This is a big shame as Mike's has been working on this for more than 3 years, and got to the point of a working prototype, and setting up a business plan in Honduras, - and to have it finally fall apart now is such bad luck.

But this hasn't stopped Mike. Like Kylie Manogue or Madonna, Mike has reinvented himself (not the fridge), and acquired a job in Peru (as you do), working for a charity called Practical Action developing 'small hydro stations' (whatever they are).

In Ruins

After the wilderness of the 'dinosaur country' in central Guatemala, I headed to the jungles in the north to visit the famous Mayan ruins of Tikal.

Tikal, Guatemala

The only way to see these ruins really is to see them at sunrise; of course to see dawn break over the ruins from the top of the highest pyramid, but also to experience the activity of all the wildlife in the surrounding jungle at the start of the day (and to beat the best of the intense heat). The fairly unique part of the Tikal ruins is that it is situated in the middle of the jungle, and for the most part, none of this has been cleared immediately surrounding the ruins themselves. You still have the impression of being in the middle of the jungle, rather than some kind of museum sight. We were surrounded by spider monkeys, who we saw climbing on the pyramids in the distance, serenaded by howler monkeys (who sound like sea lions on 20 cigars a day), loads of birds (sorry Jon - it should have been you there not me) which I cannot tell you the type of, snakes and some furry red animal.

The museum was unfortunately closed, and our guide was more interested int he wildlife than the ruins, so I didn't really get to learn much about the ancient city itself, other than the dimensions of the buildings given in terms of buses and football pitches.

Some Illegal Immigrants...

After Tikal, it was up towards Mexico, via the scenic route; through the middle of nowhere and out the other side into the jungle again. First I got dumped out in a small border town of Guatemala, where I got chatting to some locals whilst waiting for some kind of transport to take me further.

The locals turned out not to be locals; one El Salvadoran, and one Guatemalan from the other side of the country. They had both been working illegally in the United States; one had been living there for 5 years (where he had a girlfriend and a kid), only to be deported when he was finally arrested for drug dealing. The other guy worked as a construction worker in New York; he works there for a year or so, saves his money, then comes back to live in Guatemala for a year or two, before returning to earn more money again. They were on their way to return to the United States.

This was a really out of the way place, where border controls between Guatemala and Mexico were really slack (I really had to go out of my way to get my passport stamped when entering Mexico); both of these guys were staying a few days in this small town, waiting for 'other friends'. It seems this was one of the routes for illegal immigrants making their way north. They told me how they were paying a few thousand dollars to a 'Coyote' to get them across the U.S./Mexican border, and how that involved about 3 days worth of walking through the desert at night. Once in the U.S., they use an underground network of trucks transporting illegal immigrants around the country, and secret hotels in which they can stay in to allow them to reach their final destination. Interesting stuff.

Then Mexico...

Anyway, I finally got myself over the border, crossing a river on a small boat. I spent the next few days around this area, visiting some more Mayan ruins (Yaxchilàn), reached by an hours boat ride up the same river into the jungle. This again was a great experience as it was just me, the howler monkeys and the iguanas in the ruins in the middle of the jungle.

I decided to camp these first few nights in Mexico - Mexico is quite a bit more expensive than Central America, and I had a sleeping mat and some kind of tent/bag thingy with me for camping, so I thought I might as well make some use of it. This was an 'interesting' experience, I camped just outside a small town in the sub tropical jungle - I'll just say the insects and toads kept me company.

The next part of my journey saw me dumped at the entrance to a National Park a bit further north and west in Chiapas State, Mexico (I did ask the bus driver to dump there). This is a national park consisting of about 60 lakes, with mountainous scenery, blah blah blah. The bus ride to reach it was truly awesome.

Anway, I went wondering off into the national park, again prepared to camp some where in the forest (the climate was now nice and cool and the insects had gone). I came across some locals selling street food at the car park to the national park. They were very friendly, and we quickly got talking, and I expressed my plan to camp for the night. They helpfully informed me there was a thunder storm coming, well it was imminent - it didn't need a meteorologist (or Dan Cornford) to work it out. They politely offered me their table situated underneath a corrugated iron roof as shelter for the night; I jumped at the offer, and was glad of their advice, as sure enough, later that night the heavens opened, and was comfortably laid out on their table in the dry cover of a piece of metal - what more could you want?

The next morning the family returned to set up their road side cafe again; luckily I had cleared up my bed in time. The family had a load of kids hanging around, who were about 6 to 10 years old, not doing much with their day. I wanted to go and explore the area, so I asked the mother if I could take the kids with me - if the kids wanted to come that is. They thought I was a bit strange - wanting to entertain children that is - but said I could ask them to come with me. The kids of course were up for it, and they knew the way so they took me along some of the paths in the local area.

On that trip me and the kids took lots of photos with my digital camera. This was a really poor family, who didn't have hardly any possessions, and I think had never ventured further than the small village they lived in. So I said I would get some of the photos developed when I got to the nearest city, and send them the copies in the post. I asked for their address - they looked confused, unsure. They didn't have a house number ('third shack on the right after the big pine tree' I think was probably the best they could have given). So I took their full name, and their village etc, hoping it would be enough. I did get the photos developed when I got back to civilization, and then tried to post them, but unfortunately the post office would not except the address I had. This just highlights how isolated poor people can become in a country like Mexico - they have no address, can probably not even read or write, no telephone of course - does the government even know these people exist?

I wanted to stay longer in this area, explore this national park more and visit some of the remote villages there, but as always, like all westerners - I was in a rush! It was only a week before my flight left for Cuba, and there were so many things to get done before then....

The Mayans, Their Ruins, and My Ignorance

Guatemala's population is comprised of 60% Mayans - an indigenous native American race that survived the onslaught of the Spanish and the continuing prejudice against them from those damn white people.


The Maya are spread all over Guatemala, the southern states of Mexico and parts of Belize. They were once an advanced civilisation, between approximately 700BC and 900AD. They developed their own languages and technologies, and are one of the only 5 civilisations in the world to develop their own writing and number systems (answers on a postcard for the other 4 please).



But somehow, for some reason, the ancient cities in which the Mayan civilizations were based were abandoned more than 1000 years ago and had been completely forgotten about until the last few hundred years as western explorers started to get around a bit. The main theory I think on the collapse of the ancient civilizations has been attributed to over population and lack of sustainable resources - mmm, that sounds familiar.



Anyway, somehow the ancient cities collapsed, but obviously some of the Mayans survived, setting up communities elsewhere, retaining some of their customs and culture, but forgetting all about the great cities they had built.



Today in Guatemala the Mayans in general are at the poorest end of society, depending mainly on agriculture for a near subsistence living. I'm guessing many are illiterate, and anyway, are discluded from a lot of opportunities in Guatemala for not speaking (or reading) Spanish. They have also been discriminated against and persecuted in recent years - any quick glimpse at Guatemala's history in the past 50 years will show you this.



But there's always more than meets the eye; especially that which meets the eye of a western tourist quickly passing through, just happy to be there, enjoying the pretty clothes the Mayans wear and smiling at the incredibly cheap prices of everything. There was an interesting article in the magazine supplement of the national newspaper, interviewing an anthropologist, Robert Carmack, who spent several years living in a Mayan community, learning their language, studying their customs and their history. It became very apparent from reading this article that the Mayans are far more today than just the uneducated oppressed rural people that I perceived them to be.



They live within their own societies which have their own unique structure of governance, and have retained some parts of their own religions, and take an active interest in studying and protecting their history.

The wheels on the bus go round and round

This is my effort of a quick summary of what I've been up to in the past couple of weeks; my enthusiasm for posting to this blog, as you may or may not have noticed, is rather sporadic.


After visiting Mike and Sol in the central highlands of Honduras, it was out to the Caribbean coast again - yippee!


First stop was a scummy coastal town, Tela; typical of many Latin American towns I've visited; situated in a wonderful location, and with so much potential to be a great place to live as well as for us tourists to visit, but where pollution (in the rivers, the sea, the air) and litter every where had beaten me to it. The river flowing through the town and out into the Caribbean was thick and green, with a layer of scum on the top, not surprising in itself really, though what was alarming was to see local kids playing in the river.


Anyway, it was then out to a Caribbean island, Utila, one of the Bay Islands, and a very popular backpackers hang out. It is in fact a very small island heavily devoted to gringos with rucksacks, and their pursuit of having fun and scuba diving. So, when in Rome.... have fun and scuba dive, right?


I spent a week there taking the obligatory course and getting the certificate to go scuba diving. If you've never scuba dived before, it is great fun - you have this really unique sensation of weightlessness, where you can stay suspended in any position with out moving, and even fine tune your depth in the water by just altering your breathing patterns. It gives you access to a whole other world which so completely different from anything else; diving is essentially a fun form of wildlife watching.


Though I really enjoyed the diving, I was not tempted, like so many other travellers, to stay on the island to continue diving. Maybe it was the lack of physical effort required in diving (it really is a lazy man's past time), or the fact that it was all about paying more money to take more courses to get a higher certification (kind of like the Church of Scientology right?). A week was a enough for me, some great new experiences, but time seemed to be passing too quickly on the trip calendar, so I decided a new country was in order.

My first few days into Guatemala I travelled with Mike (the fridge man) and Sol, who were on a short holiday from their time in Honduras with a side purpose to renew their visas exiting and entering Honduras to extend their stay there.

The route through Guatemala has been fairly unadventurous, by my standards anyway, but has taken in the typical 'must see' places:

• Antigua - a beautiful, almost perfectly preserved old city, full of rich tourists - kind of the Vienna of Central America. Within in minutes of arriving you are reminded of being back in a European city like Prague, or I'm sure somewhere nice in Spain. Its a quiet and safe city, in such contrast to Guatemala city; the most dangerous city in Central America situated just 40 minutes away (7 bus drivers have been randomly murdered there in the past couple of weeks, and the streets are now occupied by the national guard.)
• Lago de Atitlan - A big lake surrounded by volcanoes. Perfect. And the shore dotted with Mayan villages. The Mayans being the indigenous people that make up the majority of the population of Guatemala. Their first language is one of 25 of the different Mayan languages, and Spanish, for most, is a very distant second language. They still wear beautiful traditionally made clothes and make decent bread. They are however, the victims of much prejudice in Guatemala, and remain, in general, the poor uneducated class, and up until recently held no positions of power in local or national government.
• Quetzeltenango - A big city in the highlands, the most interesting city so far in Central America, with a young student population, and almost a cosmopolitan feel to it. I climbed a volcano while I was there, about 3700m, and was rewarded with views of a the smaller Santiaguito erupting ash below. Most of my time there however, was spent vomiting and going to the toilet, due to a bout of food poisoning from somewhere, a trip to the doctor revealed some nasty bacteria in the stomach.
• North of Guatemala - I have recently been travelling through to the north of Guatemala, through what can only be described as 'dinosaur country', dramatic mountains covered in tropical forest, with deep valleys, raging rivers, and almost completely unpopulated.