Final destiny: Cuba

Dear readers, this is the last episode of the journey. I’m already back in Italy, and I’ll tell you the last part of the trip: Cuba.

About Cuba, we could talk for an entire blog, especially from a political perspective. Who loves it, who hates it, who sees it as an example of the failure of communism, who sees it as a success, pointing out that, despite the economic embargo lasting for decades, the average standard of living is higher than in neighboring islands like Haiti, Santo Domingo, and Jamaica. Even the majority of Mexicans are worse.

The embargo has been imposed by the United States for supposed violations of human rights. During this trip, I went through most of South and Central America, where the crimes against humanity committed by the U.S., directly or indirectly, are literally unspeakable and have nothing to envy those Nazis. But they speak of human rights in Cuba, that thanks to the revolution, avoided them! It seems a joke.
It is, anyway, true that the dramatic problem of censorship is unacceptable to us that can say everything we want. As long as we stay within the limits of what the power wants to listen to. Otherwise, it’s better to be ready to run inside an Ecuador embassy because they will always find a girl with whom we fucked without a condom. In summary, in Cuba there is a ban to transmit. In our countries, there is “permission to transmit and the prohibition to speak”.

I came to Cuba already 15 years ago, not much has changed. The center of Havana is literally falling apart: a piece of concrete from a cornice missed me for a couple of meters before disintegrating to the ground. Most grocery stores are decrepit and usually empty.
The prices between tourists and Cubans are very different: next to a store that sells a pizza for 5 cuc ($5, not even at Leicester Square in London they dare so much), there is one that sells the same pizza for 5 pesos, one-twentieth of a dollar! Sometimes, tourists can buy in pesos (as in my previous example), sometimes not. To sleep and eat, you can spend a lot or very little. I had a large apartment in the center of Havana, all to myself, for only 15 dollars. Getting around is usually expensive.

Still, Havana is magical and unique. Gorgeous large American cars from the 1950s pass through the streets, usually still in perfect condition. In the downtown streets, people listen to music, play dominoes, baseball, football. They are always ready to strike up a conversation, telling their life and speaking badly of the government. You are never alone and, despite the poverty, it is not dangerous, unlike most of the big cities in Central and South America.
In the night many people stay on the street, by the door of their houses. Among the dim lights, there are occasionally cocktail bars, some elegant, others ugly, where in addition to alcohol, they try to sell cigars, viagra, condoms, and more. On weekends they sit on the Malecon, the waterfront, drinking and listening to music.

A couple of days after my arrival, I was reached by Eva, the Slovakian girl who lives in Costa Rica and with whom I had traveled in Panama and Nicaragua. After two days in Havana, we went to Vinales, a place near Pinar del Rio with spectacular landscapes, where cigars and rum are produced.
From there to Trinidad, a photogenic old colonial town with cobbled streets and colorful houses.

Let’s see the photos.

 

Central Havana by night.

 

The Malecon, the waterfront.

 

Girl asking me to cook pasta.

 

Havana by night.

 

Hurricane Isaac approaches.

 

Two guys make fun of the sacred myths of the revolution.

 

Girl.

 

Guy.

 

Little girl sleeping in a fruit bogie.

 

Boys diving from the Malecon.

 

Domino players.

 

Just married.

 

A farmer from Vinales.

 

View of Trinidad.

 

Palaces in Trinidad.

 

Fuchsia car.

 

Children.

 

Fidel, as you may know, disappeared into thin air. So, let me speak on his behalf:
Comrades, stop being catastrophic! The victory is near, really near. The production of sugar cane rose, and rum and cigars abound. So, roll up your sleeves and let’s stop whining! It’s all perfectly fine… wonderful, I would say… ehhhh…

 

Viva la Revolucion!

 


Map of the trip.
Quick summary. I started on January 17th in Salvador de Bahia, Brazil. I went south to Arraial d’Ajuda, then north along the coast passing through Maceiò, Olinda, Recife, Praia da Pipa, Natal, Fortaleza, Sao Luis, until the mouth of the Amazon river in Belem. I sailed up the river on a cargo ship, and, after a stop in Alter do Chão, I reached Manaus. From there, at the beginning of March, I flew to Bogota, Colombia. After Villa de Leyva I went to the north (Cartagena, Santa Marta, Tayrona Park, Lost City, Cabo de la Vela, Mompos, etc …), then the south (Medellin, the Zona Cafetera, San Augustin, Pasto). In mid-April, I reached Otavalo, Ecuador.
I crossed Ecuador passing through Quito, Lake Quilotoa, Banos, the Amazon rainforest to the east, Cuenca, Guayaquil, and its beach southwest. Then quickly back in Colombia, up to Capurgana, near the border with Panama, that I reached in late May by boat through the archipelago of San Blas. I went to the Pacific side in Santa Catilina, back on the Atlantic side in Bocas del Toro, and in mid-June, I arrived in Costa Rica. There, I went on beaches on both sides of the oceans and inland areas of Monteverde and La Fortuna.
At the beginning of July, I arrived in San Juan in Nicaragua and island Ometepe, Granada, Leon, and Pochomil. In mid-July, I crossed San Salvador quickly and came to Antigua in Guatemala. After that, I went to the Honduras Maya site of Copan and back to Guatemala to Lanquín, Semuc Champey, Tikal, Rio Dulce, and Livingstone, from where I reached Caye Caulker in Belize with speed boats. I went back to Guatemala to Lake Atitlan. At the beginning of August, I reached San Cristobal in Mexico. After Oaxaca and Monte Alban, I went to the Pacific side in Mazunte and back in Chiapas to Oventic and San Juan de Chamula. After a stop in Campeche, I arrived in Cancun, on the Atlantic side, where I flew to Cuba, in which I visited Havana, Vinales, and Trinidad.

Eight months, 12 countries, thousands of miles run, no mobile phone, new friends, and amazing images and memories that will bounce forever in my mind.

And a selection of photos of the whole journey.

Anyway, I’ll continue to write at this address (www.dekaro.com/blog_en) my future adventures, so stay in touch!

Thanks for following me! Kissessss :-)

Oaxaca, Mazunte, the Zapatista village Oventic, Campeche and Cancun

Hello dear readers. Here we come to the last but one post. In fact, my journey is almost ending. I’m now in Cancun, from where tomorrow I’ll fly to legendary Cuba!

I recap the last days. From San Cristobal, I went to Oaxaca, a lovely city, where I met with Ketty, a friend from my hometown (Benevento), and her mate Gianluca. We visited the ruins of Monte Alban, the most important city of the Toltecs.
Then, we went to sea in the village Mazunte, a bit ‘south of Puerto Escondido. We didn’t do many baths because the sea was rough, as often on the Pacific side. However, the sweet laziness of the town shrouded us pleasantly for few days.
In the next village, San Agustin, we sat for a couple of hours in front of spectacular waves higher about 3 meters. On the beach of Zipolite, it seemed as if just passed a tsunami because a few days before some storms had caused enormous damage.

I went back to San Cristobal with them, and we visited Oventic, a small village about an hour by road, under control of the Zapatistas. On the wooden houses of the community, artistic murals are praising the EZLN and the revolution.

After, I left Ketty and Gianluca, and I moved towards the Yucatan. I stopped one day in Campeche, a tidy city with colorful houses, a beautiful promenade, and walls and bastions built after countless pirate attacks.

Now I’m in Cancun, a very touristic place where I had already been fifteen years ago. Walking the streets, I can’t figure out if I remember it or if I confuse with other tourist cities made ​​with the same stencil, perhaps on another continent or planet. Only the sea is really admirable, even the beaches are almost all fake, with the sand brought from elsewhere. Another problem: to reach the beach, often I need to pass through luxurious hotels full of rich ugly gringos(*).

(*) “Gringos” is the way in Central America the U.S.A citizens are called. It comes from “green go”, directed to the marines.

 

The church of Chamula, a town near San Cristobal, is one of the most evocative places visited during this trip. Inside, there is an evident syncretism between the Catholic religion and the ancient Mayan traditions. Unfortunately, it was not allowed to take pictures.
Dark, bare of decorations – the only are large flakes of colored cloth hanging from the ceiling. The floor is covered with pine needles and candles around which sit and pray the faithful, some of them with a chicken to sacrifice. By the walls, all around, there are tables with candles and statues of saints, often dressed in bright colors. There isn’t the altar, and the place of honor, on the top center, is reserved for St. John, patron of the city (San Juan de Chamula). Jesus himself is located in a less visible position, on the left side.
Before leaving San Cristobal, I saw in the museum of Mayan medicine that these rituals have specific rules, such as the number and color of candles to light, depending on whether it is to cast the evil eye, or be protected from envy, to heal from a disease, etc… Rituals handed down orally for thousands of years.

 

The entrance to the church.

 

Storm.

 

Natives.

 

Oaxaca street.

 

Fruit.

 

Inside Oaxaca market.

 

Oaxaca market.

 

Monte Alban, near Oaxaca. For over a millennium, it was the most important city of the Toltecs. Founded around 500 BC, reached in the early centuries AD a population between 15,000 and 30,000 inhabitants. It was abandoned around 750 A.D.

 

Ketty on the south steps of Monte Alban.

 

The monastery of Apostle Santiago, near Oaxaca. Beautiful, but, unfortunately, without a roof. It was never completed!

 

The Mazunte beach, near Puerto Escondido. The waves were almost arriving at my room.

 

I’ll have another beer with friends. There will be a better time for swimming.

 

Again in San Cristobal. Three old ladies.

 

The sign in front of Oventic, the village under Zapatista control.

 

At the entrance, the Zapatistas ask some general questions to check what visitors know about the EZLN. Sometimes they keep with them the passports during the visit. To me, Ketty and Gianluca just asked name, nationality, and profession, and, a few minutes later, we were allowed in. Anyway, in case, we were very knowledgeable!

 

The Zapatistas take their name from Emiliano Zapata, a leader of the Mexican Revolution of 1910.

 

Woman and child.

 

Zapatista primary school.

 

A little girl of the village.

 

Another little girl.

 

“Happiness doesn’t come by itself. Let’s walk to happiness”.

 

A sculpture in front of Campeche cathedral.

 

Campeche street.

 

Mexican cloud.
 

See you next time for the last episode!