The best day of holidays is the last day of holidays! And not because they end tomorrow, but somehow everything seems different, better than before. On Cuba I have learned to relax about things that I can’t change, and this is the key to not go crazy. Came late? Better late than never.
Two days before the departure, we dreamed of flying to Isla de la Juventud, however, as the famous proverb ” dreams ara Paris, reality is Bangladesh ” says – tickets would have to be booked at least a week in advance. Well, I do not know if it would be as paradisiical as it usually happens in guidebooks, in the end Fidel himself was hiding on the island. The amount of photos and blessings would probably go far beyond my expectations and I don’t think I deserve it. So, searching for attractions on the way between Pinar del Rio and the Havana airport, we picked Soroa.
And it was a brilliant idea!
Our taxi turned out to be an orange Ford from the year ’55. The Casa in which we stayed consisted of two rooms, a huge bathroom and kitchen (in which I don’t really know what you can prepare, if you can’t buy anything), and the host, beloved aunt 10/10, could easily take part in the Master Chef edition : cooking miracles from nothing. The same white cabbage was not just shredded white cabbage. Stewed with wine and vinegar, tasted something between polish bigos and heaven. And when in a meatless sauce I found a piece of meat again, Dona Maria apologized with tears in her eyes, and on the second day, literally all you can eat stuff landed on the table. Cubans who live in the countryside have a much better life than those in the city, although accommodation for tourists here are cheaper and less obvious than in the case of Havana.
So if from the previous stories you could have the (right) impression that my relation with Cuba didn’t go so well, ther will be many superlatives today!
Well, I wouldn’t be completely myself, praising Cuba for the heavens without a bit of sarcasm. But how are you suppose to stay calm when as tourist, you pay $5 for entering the mirador, while entering through the same gate, the same bridge and the same Cuban rocks costs locals only 20 cents? There is no difference, however, when you already have a hole in the size of Belarus in your wallet and you only pray that the bank will charge you out of your credit card after Christmas. Shut up and take my money. Mirador turned out to be an ordinary waterfall, nice but not particularly high or loud. We were there first again. Jet lag, however, is a great thing while traveling.
Going to an hour-long trek (this time entrance to the mirador turned out to be free) who will be at the top of it first: a tourist in trekking shoes on a horse, or Marina Furdyna in a dress and boots? Bitch please, my father is a highlander, and the trek in a summer dress is really a good thing – airy, where you need it and you don’t get so easily tired. I checked, I recommend. Views are really worth the effort, but don’t be deceived, the horse only reaches halfway up. Naturally friendly Cubans do not talk about it downstairs, but it just made me laugh louder.
I don’t know about the rest of the people, but when I see the sea at summer, I need to enter and swim. It can be difficult when it is about 100 km away, but hey, mother nature never fails. In Las Terrazas, 4 km from the Moka hotel (don’t make this mistake and don’t walk hoping that someone will stop on the way, both ways) and behind the ecological UNESCO village, you can swim in the warm springs of San Juan. The water is so clean that when you see shits of fish on the stones you have mixed feelings, but since you’ve come here on foot …
What are you worried about, what is sad, you are from the village, you will come back to the village – probably that’s why I find myself better in towns with a hundred inhabitants, with the intermittent church bells and the sounds of animals. It sounds a bit sentimental, but Cuba stood up to the task and said goodbye to me in the idyllic evening, picturesque sunset and a full moon. This was my last day of vacation on Cuba.