Camagüey 2

I was having weird dreams during this period, but I couldn't remember any details on waking. It seemed as if my dream life and real life would never intersect. Breakfast was unusual in that I got a slice of pork, not seen before in Cuban breakfasts.


I set out to see Camagüey's plazas and churches. Though I admit I was getting a bit tired of those. From the Casino Campestre, a pleasant park, I caught a horse cart to the bus station, but it took me in the opposite direction, to the train station. Oh well, at least I got to see the top end of Av. Republica. I decided to walk back to the centre along the avenue. There were consumer goods in the shops. I saw quite a few shops selling home hardware, hinges, door knobs, that sort of thing. Camagüey seemed better off than Havana. At the tourist information office nobody was at the counter. Maybe they were off working on their own businesses.

There was an Internet room at one of the hotels and it was quite busy. I made a note to come back later. Across the street, a Cubatur employee gave me the times for the Santiago de Cuba bus, and confirmed that I could connect to the Baracoa bus the same morning. I hoped so, I didn't want to stopover in Santiago de Cuba.

The tinajón (clay water jar) is the symbol of Camagüey. It is used to store water for dry times. Yes, they are usually found resting in this attitude.

This is the Plaza del Carmen that I visited the night before. It wasn't half as romantic as the evening before when there had been a dance class in progress and music streaming out of the windows, but I got to take pictures of the iron sculptures, one of a Cuban pushing a cart full of jars.

I went to a recommended restaurant in the Plaza San Juan for lunch. A couple of Italians and their chicas came in and took a nearby table. One Italian was grey haired, the other was younger. The girls were black Cubanas who didn't look a day over 20. One of them was obviously not wearing a bra. I wondered why Italians seemed to like Cuba for their sex holidays. Maybe it was because Italian and Spanish are related languages. The chicas were introducing their clients to Cuban food terms. My fish was undercooked so I sent it back to the kitchen. The service was underwhelming but for $6.50 plus tips, which also covered the beer, I couldn't complain.

This is a beautifully preserved façade.


Finally I reached Casino Campestre again. I made up my mind to go buy the bus ticket for the next evening, I would have seen enough of Camagüey by then. A buggy agreed to take me to the station for 10 pesos. The horse looked tired and I felt sorry for it. The ride was bumpy as the road was poor.

During my afternoon siesta, I heard somebody say Olanda (Holland in Spanish). I emerged from my room to see the Dutchman talking with the abuela, not looking for me, just happenstance. It turned out that he had moved next door because he didn't like the rules at the previous casa. Was he actually also a chica chaser, I wondered.

We went for a city walk together. At the 5th floor of the Gran Hotel which has views over the city, I took some photos. It was very quiet in the streets, even though it was light. Then we had mojitos and conversation at the Hotel Colón.


Over dinner in the casa, I chatted with the British couple from Geneva, D and C. They were jet-lagged and retired early. It had been a long day for me so I retired too. I made a note to tell the architect about my plans the next day, which involved hanging around until late at night to catch the overnight bus to Santiago de Cuba.