Gibara 3

A young Swedish couple in my casa said that a boat left for the other side of the bay at 1000. So after breakfast we caught it. There were two armed guards on the boat. Apparently people have attempted to escape Cuba in such boats. At the other end, a man with a horse cart gave us a lift to the beach. We thanked him and gave him some pesos for the favour.

The beach wasn't that great, it had huge waves. The girl swam and sunbathed. I saw her reading Mutant Message Down Under. I was surprised to hear that she believed it. The boy didn't know what he wanted to do after finishing his national service, maybe a business and computing degree.


On the return trip there was only one guard. He even helped with the mooring rope. I sat in the centre that time so as to not get splashed.


We went to the pizza shop mentioned in the guide but they didn't have any pizzas so I settled for a bocadillo. When the girl paid for her order, I noticed that the waiter had shortchanged her by 5 pesos. I drew this to her attention, saying count your change, but she shrugged. It was a trifling sum, and the Cubans needed the money more than we did, but still I didn't like being cheated on the sly. The two of them seemed a bit naïve. Apparently they had overspent their budget in Havana and were slowing down their travelling to spend less.


Seeing some flowers for sale, I bought a bunch for the dueña to burn up some pesos.

That evening I went to the casa that I had been asked by the Holguin landlady to deliver a note to. The note was partly a ploy to get me to stay at her friend's place. She was a bit irked and asked me why I hadn't gone to her place. I said that I didn't like being constrained to a particular place. Also I wanted to enjoy the comfy casa that I had chosen, to use up a few more dollars, and it wasn't expensive by Cuban standards anyway. I did give her the last of my Aussie postcards though.


That evening we attended a video film in the town hall for 1 peso. It was a Bruce Willis film called Unbreakable. Interesting premise, but tedious. Not the most exciting of evenings but there wasn't much to do in Gibara on a Sunday night.


Earlier the dueña had asked me if I had any medicine, but I had already given away all my stock. What I had left was a home-made power cable with a US plug at one end and crocodile clips at the other, to connect my battery charger to the mains. That cable would make safety experts sharply suck in their breath, but it had served me well. I would not need it in Europe. So my beaten up pair of sneakers was the only thing left to give away in Cuba.

Gibara 2

There was absolutely no need to sightsee anything in Gibara, so breakfast was leisurely. The Dutch couple and I agreed to hire a car to Playa Caletones, about 17 km west of Gibara. The dueña made the arrangements. While waiting I went to get some bottled water for the trip. The queues at the shops were long, but the friendly locals pushed me to the front. At 1100 the Dutch turned up at my casa, with L, who had just arrived from Holguin, and we set off.

It took ½ hour to reach the playa along a gravel road. It was a tiny bay in front of a small village but it had very fine sand and a few thatch shelters. The constant breeze evinced by the coconut palms in the pictures kept the heat under control. I had forgotten to bring my towel but I dried quickly in the wind.

There were kids fishing in the water, and at one point a family of pigs trotted past. Some goats browsed near the beach. I joked to the others that I had approached a goat to get his opinion on Cuban politics, and all he said was bah! There was also a French couple at the playa; they were driving from Baracoa to Holguin.


The excursion cost us $15 split 4 ways. We returned to town quite satisfied.

In the early evening, we ascended to the mirador again and discovered that there was a restaurant in the building. They said that yes they served dinner so I made a round-trip to the casa to tell the dueña not to make me dinner. We dined to the sound of the wind rustling through the palms. The prawns they served were fairly good. The one disagreeable aspect was the filthy state of the toilet, due the shortage of water in the building. Not something you want to think about over dinner.

Down in the town again, we bumped into the student from the night before. He took us to a heladeria for some good tubs of ice cream. There was a rap concert in progress near the huge marlin shaped portal at the harbour. We went to the casa de musica to listen to a crooner singing boleros but I think the Dutch were bored by the old-fashioned music. So it was back to the main stage where the flamenco performance finally got going. The Canarian bore from the night before was still hanging around. Late that evening the student touched us for 50 cents to buy some cigarettes.

Gibara 1

I had under a week left of my Cuban sojourn, so I'd decided to chill out in a seaside town called Gibara, roughly north of Holguin. (Guardalavaca is roughly north-east.) I walked to the central plaza, stopping for a guarapo on the way. I had to search a bit as the taxi rank was not obvious. I accepted an offer to take me to Gibara for $17. We were stuck behind a horse cart and a hearse for part of the way. Well the occupant of the latter was in no hurry any more. When we got to Gibara, the driver had to ask people for my destination casa. I had no map, and not all the street signs were visible. I gave the driver a $1 tip for his trouble.

The casa was comfy compared to previous accommodations—it had a few rooms so the dueña was doing serious business. There were several Dutch people staying there. One couple was cycling, another had come by bus, and two men had come by rented car. There was also a Canadian couple. In one corner of the courtyard was a parrot on a perch. There was a shy cat. But perhaps not so shy as to not molest the bird; I saw the bird being moved somewhere safer that evening.

I walked around town to have a look. Like at Guanabo and Baracoa, there was a constant breeze flowing. There was a small fishing harbour in Bahia de Gibara.  I could see a better looking beach on the other side. This could be a day trip later.

In the centre of town was a huge tree with most peculiar seed pods. They were all sizes and seemed to dangle from random places on the tree. I felt uneasy in the presence of such undisciplined fecundity. The guide book said that this was a roble africano, an african oak. (Note from the future: A search for roble africano or african oak on the Internet turned up mostly hits from the same guide book. I couldn't find any pictures resembling this tree and also oaks have acorns, not pods. I found a suggestion that african oak can be a misnomer; it could refer to oldfieldia africana which is not of the quercus family, but I couldn't find any confirming pictures. So if anybody can positively identify this tree, I'd be grateful.)

I bumped into the Dutch couple from Holguin the day before having a peso lunch. I joined them. She had a Thai father and Dutch mother so she had one of those tongue twisting Thai surnames. We walked up to the citadel and mirador on a small rise overlooking the town. These schoolkids couldn't resist clowning around for the camera.

Afterwards we had guarapo from a stall to cool off. We encountered beggars in the streets, but the townsfolk were in general more friendly than in the cities of Cuba. We noted that there would be a rock and bolero night at the casa de cultura so we arranged to meet in the evening.

Dinner was not preordered but made on request so I was late meeting the Dutch in the centre. There we met a German couple on their honeymoon. We walked along the sea wall, but there was nothing to see there, just a strong cooling breeze to enjoy.

Back at the centre, we found townspeople gathering around the musical stage. The musos were playing loud rock but nobody was dancing. A Cuban student who had spent 3 months in Germany as an exchange student chatted to us. He spoke good German and English. A Cuban man hung around us chatting. He told us that his forebears came from the Canary Islands. I jokingly translated this for the Germans as he says he's a little yellow bird. He tried to persuade us to go to a disco. Some Cubans hang around tourists like that, hoping to touch the tourists to pay for their entertainment.