We are bored and fed up with being on the main road all the time and as there is an opportunity for a detour northwards, we decide to take it. We first stop in the wonderfully-named Moron. We wandered around as always, enjoying the street activity, the small kiosks and shops, the hustle and bustle. So strange because we think there's nothing to buy. We ask about a market to find some vegetables. Somewhere we find something. We do not go hungry.
Our ride west along a smaller road proves to be a good choice. We pass through several small villages and find roast pork sandwiches being sold in one, cold pop to drink in another. The ride is long and hot. As we've given up on camping we're now always planning to reach a town where we can find a casa.
Along the way we meet two cyclists who have descended from the hills. We have stopped in the shade of a cafe and I go inside to get a drink. At the counter are a bunch of young black men and women. Nothing unusual about that in Cuba. But as I am checking out what's in the fridge behind the counter I realise someone is speaking in a posh English accent. I look again at the customers - they're British tourists. Outside we chat a bit before they head off to their resort hotel in two yellow taxis.
We end our day in an extremely shabby and forgotten town called Caibarien up on the coast. It used to be a sugar mill town but it isn't anything anymore. Lots of fabulous wooden houses. We walk to a shop that has a stack of eggs but the man behind the counter shakes his head at us - this is one of the ration card shops. In the plaza three old men are drinking beers. A beer costs a dollar, one twentieth of the average salary. There is a surprising amount of beer drunk in Cuba. A bottle of cheap rum can be bought for less than a dollar.
We find a kiosk selling creme brulee. They have been baked in the cut-off bottoms of beer cans.
Remedios is only ten kilometres inland but it has a nice centre and we decide to pause here for a few nights. Small groups of tourists are bussed here from resort hotels during the day but in the evening it's peaceful. The main plaza fills with people looking at their phones, calling relatives, friends, lovers or catching up on the intricate policy announcements and detailed development plans of the 39th National Assembly of the People's Committee. Yeah, right. The new president is to be announced shortly.
Sancti Spiritus is a bit of a grimy city with a central plaza surrounded by honking traffic. We take a lovely room on the first floor of an old building in one corner and get a balcony from which we can watch the world go by. Under one arcade is a supermarket selling plenty of kitchen and bathroom products, all imported, but not much food. It is really busy all the time.
Down by the river we find some restaurants overlooking the old bridge and splash out on a decent meal. If we could find cooked food like this every evening we would probably cook less as it really isn't expensive. However, we are paying for a room every night and if there's a kitchen we can't help but use it. There are some nice streets away from the main plaza and down towards the river but the riverbank itself has been ignored - a shame really as it's a nice green spot.
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| has she got cake? where d'ya think she got that? |
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| no, not that hungry |
Along the way we meet two cyclists who have descended from the hills. We have stopped in the shade of a cafe and I go inside to get a drink. At the counter are a bunch of young black men and women. Nothing unusual about that in Cuba. But as I am checking out what's in the fridge behind the counter I realise someone is speaking in a posh English accent. I look again at the customers - they're British tourists. Outside we chat a bit before they head off to their resort hotel in two yellow taxis.
We end our day in an extremely shabby and forgotten town called Caibarien up on the coast. It used to be a sugar mill town but it isn't anything anymore. Lots of fabulous wooden houses. We walk to a shop that has a stack of eggs but the man behind the counter shakes his head at us - this is one of the ration card shops. In the plaza three old men are drinking beers. A beer costs a dollar, one twentieth of the average salary. There is a surprising amount of beer drunk in Cuba. A bottle of cheap rum can be bought for less than a dollar.
We find a kiosk selling creme brulee. They have been baked in the cut-off bottoms of beer cans.
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| Remedios |
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| Yes, but apart from the pork sandwiches and |
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| the fried fish butties and |
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| the caramel custard with hot chocolate, what |
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| else is there to like about Remedios? |
Sancti Spiritus is a bit of a grimy city with a central plaza surrounded by honking traffic. We take a lovely room on the first floor of an old building in one corner and get a balcony from which we can watch the world go by. Under one arcade is a supermarket selling plenty of kitchen and bathroom products, all imported, but not much food. It is really busy all the time.
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| early morning |
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| the kitchen in our casa, Sancti Spiritus |
