Cienfuegos

I got a filling breakfast with more of those succulent home-grown mangos again. Time to go sightseeing. I walked to the parque and took pictures of the surrounding buildings. Cienfuegos has some beautiful neoclassical buildings from the Spanish colonial period. It is on the UNESCO heritage list. Incidentally although the word literally means hundred fires, it was so named because a Capitan-General of the same name lived on Cuba.

One building in particular reminded me of the railway station in Kuala Lumpur because of the Moorish towers, domes and arches. It's interesting that the Arab influence went both ways, via the Moors to Spain, and thence to the New World, and via Arab traders to South-East Asia.

The cemetery with the tomb of La Bella Durmiente (Sleeping Beauty) was close by so I thought why not have a look? The guard there was kind enough to show me the tomb with a statue of a languishing woman over it. The beautiful statue has given rise to many legends (page in Spanish), but nobody is sure what the real story is. Most stories revolve around a woman dying young at 23, of some melancholy reason, a broken heart, excessive medication and so on.

There were some preparations in progress at the Malecón (sea wall). Later Gladys told me that the next day would be Foundation Day. I decided to walk to the promontory, Punta Gorda. Cienfuegos lies at the head of a large bay so it wasn't open sea.

Along the way I stopped at a dilapidated boat landing to check the view and take some pictures. A woman in her late 20s or early 30s in a green bikini at the water's edge came over and greeted me, and shook hands. We started conversing, then a policeman on a motorcycle came around and she fell silent. The policeman took out his bocadillo (sandwich) lunch and started eating.

After a moment I decided to move on and reached Punta Gorda. There was a gazebo at the tip but not much to see except the view across the large Cienfuegos bay. I took some pictures of the point and nearby architecture and walked back. On the way a pitiful old woman asked me for alms so I gave her a dollar.


When I returned to the landing, the young woman was still there but the policeman had left. We resumed our conversation where we had left off. She was having a day out with her father and two kids, 2 and 4, who were swimming nearby. She had a common-law husband but was separated now. She worked as a social worker of sorts, looking after old people. She said that her casa was near the parque. Then she asked: What are you doing tonight?


Ah.


I should have seen that coming. I instantly decided that one big lie would be easier to sustain than a series of excuses: Tengo novia.


But she wasn't convinced and asked, So how come she's not travelling with you?


Well, I said, she has to work and I was visiting my friends in Europe who are not her friends.


She persisted, You love her very much then?


Sorry, yes, I lied.


She couldn't gainsay that so we talked about other topics. Before we parted she asked me for a quarter. I readily gave her two.


Well, that was an interesting experience, I thought. That explained the policeman, he was trying to curtail contact between a Cubana and a foreigner. Turning the incident over in my mind, I was curious how it might even pan out. Since I wasn't allowed to take chicas back to my casa, I imagined that I would have to turn up at her casa with a bottle of rum, money and prophylactics. The scenario seemed so tawdry. I realised that I had forgotten to compliment her a bit on her looks at the beginning of the conversation; I always forget little courtesies like that. She was somewhat attractive, though she had let herself go a bit at the waist, perhaps after having had two kids. Or maybe it was the starch in the Cuban diet. I believe too that like the tout who took me to the criolla restaurant in Havana, she was an opportunistic rather than a habitual operator.

The midday sun was quite hot now and I was glad to have a batido (basically a fruit smoothie) to cool off after the walk back to the centre. Too much sugar in it for my taste though. Well, sugar is something they are not short of in Cuba. For lunch I tried a pizza from El Rapido, paid in pesos. It tasted like a mass produced pizza baked quickly, which was probably exactly what it was. It paired up well with a generic fizzy drink.

I went back to my casa to shower and wash my clothes. There was a clothes line in the courtyard. I hoped that they would dry in time for tomorrow. While the sunshine was doing its work, I walked around the corner to the bus station to buy my departure ticket for the next day, but the counter was already closed. Never mind, I could do it before breakfast then.

Here are two forms of transportation in Cienfuegos. This old technology works.

This newer one hasn't for a while.

A doctor neighbour of my hosts who had some stomach ailment came around, so I gave him some of the medication I was carrying. Dinner was filling again.

I was hoping for a spectacular sunset but the sun was obscured by clouds and the industries at the edge of the bay contributed to an insipid picture.


I finished my paperback copy of The Odyssey. It was sort of disconcerting to be in a parallel odyssey of my own, complete with sirens. No wine-dark seas in mine that's for sure. I told myself to be always in the present no matter how tiring and irritating Cuba was.