The goodbyes in the morning were, as expected, really hard. We left with kisses, hugs and almost tears. But eventually we had to go and got slowly on our way to Santiago de Cuba.
For the first part we went up the famous road named La Farola. The pass road was built between 1964 and 1965, in addition to the Highway Carretera Central. With La Farola, Baracoa was for the first time connected by road to the rest of the country. Before it could only be reached by ship or plane. Built from the stones of the „Sierrade Purial“, the challenging track is a masterpiece of engineering and was one of the greatest technical achievements of modern Cuba. The name „La Farola“, which is Spanish for: „The light pole“, comes from the fact that some sections of the road appear like rays of light in the dark rainforest.
We stopped at a roadside vendor selling pineapples and other fruit. We asked for the price and after a little negotiation we paid what we thought being an OK price, about halfway between what he asked for and the price a Cuban would pay, and what was probably half of his week’s income. So he got a good deal but still once we were done he started talking about how many kids they have and how much they need and so on. As a tourist you are instantly seen as rich, which in comparison to most of the Cubans is certainly true. I also understand how everyone wants a piece of that richness when they get a chance. I am happy to help, and of course to pay a much higher price than locals would, but still I can’t just give money all the time.
Between Guantanamo and Santiago de Cuba was a highway with two lanes in each direction. I counted four cars/trucks heading in the opposite direction and we overtook another one or two in our direction. But don’t think that the lack of cars and trucks seen on the highways means that they were empty. No, there were horse carts, ox carts, cyclists, pedestrians, oh and goats, with more horses on the side. Not so many hitch-hikers though, but we didn’t take anyone today anyway because they all looked rather grumpy and I was still not really comfortable with the whole thing.
Arriving in Santiago, we were enwrapped in the chaotic traffic of the city. Mostly one-way streets in combination with all the pedestrians, some more cars and lots of motor bikes, make driving rather adventurous. Street signs are rare, so we guessed the direction trying to avoid the Jinteros, asked for the way a few times and eventually found our Casa de Maritza in Calle Padre Pico No. 303 E/ Heredia y San Basilio. It was rather hot and humid and getting the luggage in was a sweaty exercise. Eliot parked the car around the corner, in front of another diligent car watcher who would look after it for 2 CUC per night. On his way back a passing kid asked if she could have one of the bananas from the big bunch he was carrying and he gave one each to her and her friend.
The house was not as nice as in Baracoa. There was a roof terrace here as well though, so we could go outside without going outside. Sitting on the terrace is nice and it’s a perfect spot for taking pictures of the street life in Santiago as well as to watch daily life going by without being noticed. Later we spent an hour walking through the centre and had a pizza, a churro each and a croquette for less than 1 CUC because we paid in Nationales. The food was certainly not healthy but it was tasty. Full and tired I went to bed while Eliot went out with some couch-surfing friends.
He had contacted them on CouchSurfing before we came to Cuba and then Rafael had helped us call ahead in the morning before we left Baracoa. They were nice enough to stop by and pick him up from our Casa and then took him off to a friend’s house for birthday drinks. Apparently he had a great time hanging out with real Cubans, got to see first hand just how much damage had been done the year before by hurricane Sandy, and afterwards they went out dancing and drinking at a local bar. He got home around 3 and knocked on the window for me to let him in and was fast asleep shortly afterwards.