"Just tried to get cash out with both cards upon seeing my first Cuban ATM, but neither worked. I changed the last of my dollars but now am slightly worried I won't have enough to last. If there's one thing only that Cuba needs to pull together already, it's the banking. A handful of ATMs in the whole country which don't even work, banks with really odd opening times, two currencies which street vendors and shop assistants completely screw tourists over with, 30% commission sometimes on USD!.. It's a F-ing mess. And another good reason to travel to Cuba with someone else- double the chance of being able to get money. I already owe Wolfgang."Honestly, right now I feel ready to go home. I don't think I would if I was still in Central [America], but maybe I don't have quite enough energy left to fully embrace Cuba. I'm fed up of spending so much and I don't like the feeling that the huge amounts I am spending is going straight into Fidel's pockets (or his associates, because I am convinced he is actually dead. But that's another topic for another day.) I still haven't worked out if I am really enjoying myself here or not. It's a beautiful country, with so much going on- pretty much every activity one could want asides from skiing, but at the same time I feel so restrained.
"Maybe I wouldn't notice it so much if I hadn't just come from Central, where I made all my own decisions and was able to just jump on a local bus to wherever... here I feel constrained to the strict tourist routes, watched and noted everywhere I go and unable to make split decisions. My route was pretty much decided for me by my first casa host- and while I'm sure I could say to this guy: "actually, I don't want the three nights here, I want to go to Cienfuegos tomorrow", it feels like it would be a hassle, possibly offend him and easier to stick with the plan. I find myself just agreeing to everything. Dinner in the house? Sure. Add it all onto my never-ending bill. I hate having to tell someone every movement of my day. By 9am, I must have told my host what time I want dinner and what do I want and how do I want it... By dinner time, we've planned breakfast. My whole week has just been chugging along, going through the motions of a plan. And I'm tired. I am so F-ing tired. I can't do all that I would do usually, I can't really enjoy drinking late into the night, because the energy is gone. And I don't think it's so much the fact that I'm coming to the end of the 5 or 6 months or whatever, it's that I can't relax here and do things exactly as I want to. There's not time to myself. I am always watched. Even sitting on the roof terrace in the house, Pablo knows I am there, keeps an eye on me as I climb up and down.
"Changing these dollars in the bank, I had to give all the details of my passport but also where I'm staying, how long I'm staying there... so they can match it up to the information I gave before and make sure I'm where I should be? Yes that sounds crazy paranoid and nobody should really care about a harmless 23 year old girl, but how else should I think when I was greeted at immigration with a full-on interrogation?
"But maybe I need to relax and chill out. Maybe it's just that places like El Ostional in Central [America] were really special. It's nice to sit here in the square- a group of girls in school uniform are singing around a guitar, a man sits in the shade with a cigar and a bucket of some kind of fruit to sell. Two women sit next to me, chatting: one holds a newspaper in her hand. Maybe I'll buy a newspaper- practise my spanish reading skills and get angry at the biased stories."
"17:51
"What kind of country doesn't sell diet coke of any kind?
"Could today be the longest day ever? I've done a lot of wandering around, but the heat is getting to me. Making me even sleepier. Had a local ham sandwich, had a little nap. Sat in the park but got fed up of the male attention. Even the gate-guard/ [security] person thing was at it. Came over all serious to ask me a question, so I paid attention, thinking it might be important- then he asked with a still, straight face "tiene un novio?" ["Do you have a boyfriend?"] !! I don't know, I could handle it ok in Central, but here it really is something else."Back to the story of my life. We were horse-riding. I wore my big, new blue hat and I was loving life. We trekked for almost seven hours, stopping first to climb up and see a cave (NOT my favourite thing to do, but it was very open), later to see another cave through which we were promised a natural pool to swim in. I assumed the pool was on the other side of the cave- ie, open air and not underground. I would never have gone through otherwise. As this cave went on longer and deeper, I was really starting to panic and thought I might have to be carried out. But I was pushed along and concentrated on not stepping in water. Actually, I was mostly ok until I looked up and saw my close proximity to the ceiling. It was hot outside and my stress was making me sweat even more, so when we finally reached the pool- lit by candles, I just jumped straight in. Wolfgang threw me a beer, which we cooled in the water and which made me feel a whole lot better. Not for the first time on this trip, I was pretty proud of myself.
"Towards the end of the trail, we stopped at a tabacco farm, where we were shown how to roll cigars. The farmer told me that they were a family business, run for generations, but recently had become a government official stop for tourism. They were allowed 10% of their farm produce or income- the other 90% goes to Fidel. After a couple of mojitos- todo organic, it was time to go, but the heavens had suddenly opened and we all sat in the barn a while longer. The farm brothers gave us a cigar to share and played some Reggaeton on their phones. Then I was watching them and Wolfgang trade songs through bluetooth an discuss the iphone 5. Que Bizarro."We arrived home covered in mud- my shoes completely destroyed- and starving hungry. After showers and peso pizza, we saw our local friends in the square once again, and the night ended in drinks and me watching while all the amazing salsa dancers sauntered round the dance-floor to a live band.
"Wednesday was a beach day. Took a boat across to Cayo Levisa, where I swam, slept and read on the beach: a perfect beach, but I think I've been spoilt by white sand and blue seas recently, so it felt normal. As with everything in Cuba, the trip was methodically programmed. We were confined pretty much to a hotel area, where a sound system shouted about just how much fun we were going to have, and all the creepy-smiled waiters called me "laydeeee" and bugged me for drinks. Good day, though."And then Thursday bright and early, I said goodbye to the Austrian and set off on my eight hour bus ride to Trinidad."
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