A Three Hour Tour

The morning of our journey from Cienfuegos to Havana, I woke up with a start.  Lucy had generally preferred vehicles with air conditioning (the old Chevy we used to go to dinner didn’t have it, but those were short trips), and I had booked a classic car for the romance of it.

The possibility of a three hour journey with no AC in Cuba caused me to realize romance and that kind of trip would have no intersection.  I got up, showered (they fixed our hot water problem after the first morning’s shower, and it was fine after that), and went downstairs to email our taxi company.  I was hoping that they were capitalists and, you know, got to work early.  

Fortunately, they did.  Phew.  I did not want to be known in family Cook lore as the moron who booked an AC-less car for a three hour tour. (A three hour tour!).  I really didn’t want to be the Gilligan of the trip. (Editor’s Note: I see what you did there!  Blogger: Knowing wink.)

The trip was uneventful, and the taxi was big.  We had three rows, so Charlie and I sat in the back, whilst Carol and Lucy took the the middle row.  They chatted, and after a bit of time, Charlie and I feel into a lengthy conversation about the business of politics.  

Looking out the window, there was not much to see – every so often there were great views of the mountains to north, but I have no idea which range it is.  There were idyllic scenes of men working the fields, often using scythes or machetes to chop what they were harvesting.  Their horses were tied up next to where they were working.  At first you see the horse by the side of the road, thinking they had been left in the heat, but then we would see the workers nearby in the fields.

Cuban cows do not look very well-fed.  They are the skinniest cows I’ve ever seen, which helps clarify why there is no Capital Grille equivalent in Havana.  (If there were, would it be called Socialism Grille?).  

We were on the equivalent of a four lane divided highway (two lanes in each direction).  Occasionally there were gas stations/rest areas, and we stopped at one.  Our driver and Charlie each got an espresso, while I had yet another agua con gas (sparkling water).  There were numerous Cubans standing around, quaffing their espressos (served in ceramic cups, these were not grab and go) and talking.  Then, for us, it was back in the taxi and on the road again.

It was interesting to be riding on essentially a Cuban interstate, and then to have someone on a bike riding along in the fast lane.  A gentle honk, and they would move closer to the median.  The distance was about 140 miles, but because of the quality of the roads, it took us a little over three hours.