Back to wandering around
After spending two days in Guayaquil I knew it was time to move on. Guayaquil is nice but it just really held no attraction for me. The problem wasn´t in making that decision, the problem was move on to where. It´s strange I´ve noticed my last few months of travelling oscilate back and forth between hanging out with great friends who I feel will be around for a lifetime and just wandering around aimlessly on my own.
My friend Robert who started this whole mess by convincing me to go to Colombia the first time sent me an e-mail. He was heading to Lima and wanted to meet up. I thought about it. 20 hour bus ride from Guayaquil to Lima and another 28 hours to get to Quito. It would have been fun to see Robert again but I was going to have to pass, schedule is a little tight and even I couldn´t imagine flying from Lima to Havana to Guayaquil back to Lima in the span of 3 weeks.
Then I thought about heading to Cali, Colombia to meet up with José the guy I met in Rio. He offered me a place to stay and I know he´d show me around. Plus maybe I could finally actually learn some salsa in one of the dance capitals of the world. And I came close to hoping on a bus and crossing the border, but for some reason I decided not to. I felt like I´d be running away from Ecuador and I wasn´t quite ready to do that.
Instead I caught a bus to Salinas. I heard Salinas described as Ecuador´s answer to Miami Beach. And apparently for 6 months out of the year that´s exactly what it is. June is not one of those six months. The Ecuadorean coast right now is a little chilly, kinda overcast, and pretty deserted. It´s still nice, quite nice in fact, but a far shot from the Cuban beaches I was lavishing in only a few days ago.
But Salinas has a beautiful calm bay perfect for swimming, the people are a little reserved but friendly, and there´s lots of time to relax and do nothing. I hear the hump-back whales can be seen not too far off-shore these days and the sea-lions are hanging out on a rock only a bike ride away. In 3 days here I´ve met exactly two foriegners and that doesn´t seem too bad.
In the hotel I´m staying at they have a map of the Ecuadorean coast line. The Ruta del Sol runs parallel to the coast passing little fishing towns, quite beaches and major surfing hubs like Montañita and Puerto Lopez. This seems like a fine path to take towards Quito, I still have almost two weeks before I need to be there and not a damn thing to do. Somehow I´m convinced this won´t be a problem.
Thursday, June 29, 2006
Monday, June 26, 2006
I´m famous!
Ok not really, but my Dutch friend Joost wrote about some of our Cuban adventures together on his blog (http://juice.zinloosverteld.nl/) and now all the Dutchenese, Hollandens and Netherlandeans will be aware of me. It´s kind of cool to see someone perspective on the same events. But he doesn´t really write about me, it´s actually about my other personality.
It´s strange, right as I started this trip someone gave me the advice of ¨it seems like you´re trying to find yourself, you might want to start by pronouncing your name the right way.¨ And that made a lot of sense. So Ka-sheef went back to KAH-shif.
But the problem was the rest of the world wasn´t so accomodating. See I met Bill in Colombia long before I made this decision. And Bill always knew me as Zak. Don´t ask me where Zak comes from, it´s a long story that I can´t even begin to explain but I think it´s better than my last made up name of George.
And when I went to Cuba to meet up with Bill the first time everyone all the new people I met were introduced to me ask Zak. Which at some point became more like ¨San¨ because you can´t actually pronounce Zak in spanish.
So here I am, trying to go back to the name my parents gave me and I´ve found it´s harder than I thought. At some point in Argentina I became just ¨Cash¨, and then I realized that was a bad idea because everyone took the name way too literally.
Regardless on Joost´s blog I´m Zak and there´s a post about Zakisms which I think is really funny. I do love a great one-liner after all. And I guess that really isn´t too bad, although one of these days I really do think I should become KAH-shif.
Ok not really, but my Dutch friend Joost wrote about some of our Cuban adventures together on his blog (http://juice.zinloosverteld.nl/) and now all the Dutchenese, Hollandens and Netherlandeans will be aware of me. It´s kind of cool to see someone perspective on the same events. But he doesn´t really write about me, it´s actually about my other personality.
It´s strange, right as I started this trip someone gave me the advice of ¨it seems like you´re trying to find yourself, you might want to start by pronouncing your name the right way.¨ And that made a lot of sense. So Ka-sheef went back to KAH-shif.
But the problem was the rest of the world wasn´t so accomodating. See I met Bill in Colombia long before I made this decision. And Bill always knew me as Zak. Don´t ask me where Zak comes from, it´s a long story that I can´t even begin to explain but I think it´s better than my last made up name of George.
And when I went to Cuba to meet up with Bill the first time everyone all the new people I met were introduced to me ask Zak. Which at some point became more like ¨San¨ because you can´t actually pronounce Zak in spanish.
So here I am, trying to go back to the name my parents gave me and I´ve found it´s harder than I thought. At some point in Argentina I became just ¨Cash¨, and then I realized that was a bad idea because everyone took the name way too literally.
Regardless on Joost´s blog I´m Zak and there´s a post about Zakisms which I think is really funny. I do love a great one-liner after all. And I guess that really isn´t too bad, although one of these days I really do think I should become KAH-shif.
I´m here, now what?
As the last leg of my travels, the flight from Panama City to Guayaquil began it´s descent, I looked over the customs declaration form I was just handed. One box confused me. Address in Ecuador? The truth of the mater was I had no idea where I was staying that night or what I was going to do in Ecuador.
My sisters are going to meet me in Quito in two weeks and I was flying to Guayaquil. I don´t actually remember why I told them to meet me in Ecuador anymore. Originally just my sister Asma was going to come to Buenos Aires but with her school and all she wasn´t free until July and I wasn´t going to stay there that long. So I looked at a map and somehow came up with Ecuador. I think it might have had something to do with that crazy guy from Quito I met on Mt. Aconcagua who planted the idea in my head. But I heard about great beaches and islands and the Amazon river and active volcanos and it all sounded like fun.
The truth is I´ve actually kind of gotten to the point where I´m getting really really close to being done with this adventure. If it weren´t for the fact that my sisters are meeting me in Ecuador in a couple of weeks I might just have gone home. Well technically I don´t have a home, but back to the US. But as things are I´ll spend two weeks here waiting for my sisters and then another three weeks with my sister Asma. Samira will only be here for a week and after that...well actually I need to go to Medellin to collect the $200 that my buddy Bill owes me. And then I gotta see how somethings unfold, well just one things really. I might have one more stop to make before heading back to the states.
In my months of travelling I´ve learned just a couple of things. One is that it´s a really bad idea to show up to a new country late at night with no idea of where you´re going to stay. Last time this happen Joost and I came about 2 kms from sleeping on the beach. I was planning on doing a little research before I left Cuba but somehow that just didn´t work out.
Yanet and I spent the day before hanging out at the Playas del Este and it´s so hard to leave the beach even when you know you´ve got to go pack your bags. Everyone was waiting for us back at the casa for dinner since we were extremely late. But like always no one worried too much or if they did they didn´t complain.
Queque grilled me up some lobster, he knows it´s my favorite. The goodbyes were hard and take so long. Joost was awesome and presented me with his set of juggling balls he had just bought, I guess that answered my question of whether I was going to keep practicing. He gave me the 4th ball too and told me he wants to see evidence that I get that down. Be patient Joost, this might take a bit.
Somehow between all of this I never managed to get to the internet and find a hostel in Guayaquil. After I claimed by bags and made it through customs I looked around to see if there was a tourist booth open at the airport that could help me out. No such luck, especially not at 11 PM. So I did what I try to avoid doing as much as possible, I turned to my Footprints guide book and found a place to stay, flagged down a cab, negotiated a price and we took off. Luckily they had availability and it turned out to be clean and seemed relatively decent.
As I settled into Guayaquil I wondered again what I was doing here. I didn´t know a soul in this country, had no real idea of what to do and was already missing Cuba and everything it held. I suppose this is as good a time as any to figure out what the hell I´m doing. Oh yeah, that´s what I was supposed to be doing for the last 5 months.
As the last leg of my travels, the flight from Panama City to Guayaquil began it´s descent, I looked over the customs declaration form I was just handed. One box confused me. Address in Ecuador? The truth of the mater was I had no idea where I was staying that night or what I was going to do in Ecuador.
My sisters are going to meet me in Quito in two weeks and I was flying to Guayaquil. I don´t actually remember why I told them to meet me in Ecuador anymore. Originally just my sister Asma was going to come to Buenos Aires but with her school and all she wasn´t free until July and I wasn´t going to stay there that long. So I looked at a map and somehow came up with Ecuador. I think it might have had something to do with that crazy guy from Quito I met on Mt. Aconcagua who planted the idea in my head. But I heard about great beaches and islands and the Amazon river and active volcanos and it all sounded like fun.
The truth is I´ve actually kind of gotten to the point where I´m getting really really close to being done with this adventure. If it weren´t for the fact that my sisters are meeting me in Ecuador in a couple of weeks I might just have gone home. Well technically I don´t have a home, but back to the US. But as things are I´ll spend two weeks here waiting for my sisters and then another three weeks with my sister Asma. Samira will only be here for a week and after that...well actually I need to go to Medellin to collect the $200 that my buddy Bill owes me. And then I gotta see how somethings unfold, well just one things really. I might have one more stop to make before heading back to the states.
In my months of travelling I´ve learned just a couple of things. One is that it´s a really bad idea to show up to a new country late at night with no idea of where you´re going to stay. Last time this happen Joost and I came about 2 kms from sleeping on the beach. I was planning on doing a little research before I left Cuba but somehow that just didn´t work out.
Yanet and I spent the day before hanging out at the Playas del Este and it´s so hard to leave the beach even when you know you´ve got to go pack your bags. Everyone was waiting for us back at the casa for dinner since we were extremely late. But like always no one worried too much or if they did they didn´t complain.
Queque grilled me up some lobster, he knows it´s my favorite. The goodbyes were hard and take so long. Joost was awesome and presented me with his set of juggling balls he had just bought, I guess that answered my question of whether I was going to keep practicing. He gave me the 4th ball too and told me he wants to see evidence that I get that down. Be patient Joost, this might take a bit.
Somehow between all of this I never managed to get to the internet and find a hostel in Guayaquil. After I claimed by bags and made it through customs I looked around to see if there was a tourist booth open at the airport that could help me out. No such luck, especially not at 11 PM. So I did what I try to avoid doing as much as possible, I turned to my Footprints guide book and found a place to stay, flagged down a cab, negotiated a price and we took off. Luckily they had availability and it turned out to be clean and seemed relatively decent.
As I settled into Guayaquil I wondered again what I was doing here. I didn´t know a soul in this country, had no real idea of what to do and was already missing Cuba and everything it held. I suppose this is as good a time as any to figure out what the hell I´m doing. Oh yeah, that´s what I was supposed to be doing for the last 5 months.
Friday, June 23, 2006
Dropping Balls
Joost, the crazy Dutch guy, and I were hanging out on Playa Santa Maria, the closest beach to Havana. It was a wonderfully relaxing day, we finally got outside our comfort zone of Havana Centro and explored a little more of what Cuba had to offer. Joost has become famous around the casa for trying to teach everyone and anyone to juggle.
Last time we were in Cuba Alicia was complaining about how all of her oranges wound up crushed and Yanet said she didn’t want to smell like onions anymore. But this time Joost brought his own balls with him.
So while we were lying on the beach Joost asked me if I’d like to learn. Learning to juggle has been on my list of things to do for quite some time now, sure it’s something like number 35 at the moment, but what the heck I had an eager teacher, time to kill on the beach and a set of juggling balls nearby.
I’ve noticed myself kinda of getting antsy in the last couple two months or so. I haven’t done an honest days work since December and truth be told for several weeks (ok months) before that I had basically stopped being reasonably productive.
But I do think I’ve channeled some of that into a desire to do some other stuff that I’ve never found time for before. My Spanish has gotten pretty damn decent if I do say so myself, I learned to swim which was a big deal for me, I climbed a couple of mountains and done some trekking, met some fascinatingly wonderful people, sure my salsa skills are still barely existent but that’s next. And I’ve spent a lot of time thinking and pondering and imagining what could be and what shouldn’t be.
As we hung out on the beach Joost took about 10 minutes to explain the basic concept. I struggled dropping the balls for a while and a couple people looked on. A Cuban guy walked up, asked for the balls and took off without a hitch. A Mexican guy picked out three oddly shaped rocks out of the sand and started throwing them up with frustrating ease.
The more I watched everyone succeed at something that I just couldn’t seem to grasp the more obsessed with the idea of juggling I became. I spent another hour or two that night throwing balls on the floor and picking them up. At some point Joost just looked at me and said “dude, you’re just trying too hard.” I don’t think he used the word “dude” because that doesn’t sound very Dutch, but the point was the same.
And that made sense. And I’ve noticed that sometimes when I really want something the OCD part of my personality kicks in. I just can’t let some things go, I obsess over them, even when
there’s something else I’m focusing the majority of my attention on my mind is working on the background handling this latest preoccupation.
And it’s true. Sometimes when you try too hard you just set yourself up for failure. You forget about the patience you need to let something just click. You try to fast forward through the rough, awkward phase where everything is a little strange and not quite comfortable because you already know the end result you’re shooting for. The second time to Cuba has been like that for me.
There’s some middle ground, I’m sure, between persistence and obsession. I doubt you can achieve and thing that’s difficult and worthwhile unless you’re willing to invest the time and effort required to pursue it. But if you obsess about it, if you don’t let yourself relax and take some space, if you refuse to wait for whatever will happen to happen it seems you’ve also got a pretty good chance of failing.
At this point I can kinda sorta juggle. Well enough to fake it at least. I don’t know if I’ll stick with it or not, it seems like a reasonable way to kill time but I don’t think it really impresses chicks and thus it’s coolness factor drops. And I didn’t really come to Cuba to learn to juggle, I’m still working on number one on my list.
Joost, the crazy Dutch guy, and I were hanging out on Playa Santa Maria, the closest beach to Havana. It was a wonderfully relaxing day, we finally got outside our comfort zone of Havana Centro and explored a little more of what Cuba had to offer. Joost has become famous around the casa for trying to teach everyone and anyone to juggle.
Last time we were in Cuba Alicia was complaining about how all of her oranges wound up crushed and Yanet said she didn’t want to smell like onions anymore. But this time Joost brought his own balls with him.
So while we were lying on the beach Joost asked me if I’d like to learn. Learning to juggle has been on my list of things to do for quite some time now, sure it’s something like number 35 at the moment, but what the heck I had an eager teacher, time to kill on the beach and a set of juggling balls nearby.
I’ve noticed myself kinda of getting antsy in the last couple two months or so. I haven’t done an honest days work since December and truth be told for several weeks (ok months) before that I had basically stopped being reasonably productive.
But I do think I’ve channeled some of that into a desire to do some other stuff that I’ve never found time for before. My Spanish has gotten pretty damn decent if I do say so myself, I learned to swim which was a big deal for me, I climbed a couple of mountains and done some trekking, met some fascinatingly wonderful people, sure my salsa skills are still barely existent but that’s next. And I’ve spent a lot of time thinking and pondering and imagining what could be and what shouldn’t be.
As we hung out on the beach Joost took about 10 minutes to explain the basic concept. I struggled dropping the balls for a while and a couple people looked on. A Cuban guy walked up, asked for the balls and took off without a hitch. A Mexican guy picked out three oddly shaped rocks out of the sand and started throwing them up with frustrating ease.
The more I watched everyone succeed at something that I just couldn’t seem to grasp the more obsessed with the idea of juggling I became. I spent another hour or two that night throwing balls on the floor and picking them up. At some point Joost just looked at me and said “dude, you’re just trying too hard.” I don’t think he used the word “dude” because that doesn’t sound very Dutch, but the point was the same.
And that made sense. And I’ve noticed that sometimes when I really want something the OCD part of my personality kicks in. I just can’t let some things go, I obsess over them, even when
there’s something else I’m focusing the majority of my attention on my mind is working on the background handling this latest preoccupation.And it’s true. Sometimes when you try too hard you just set yourself up for failure. You forget about the patience you need to let something just click. You try to fast forward through the rough, awkward phase where everything is a little strange and not quite comfortable because you already know the end result you’re shooting for. The second time to Cuba has been like that for me.
There’s some middle ground, I’m sure, between persistence and obsession. I doubt you can achieve and thing that’s difficult and worthwhile unless you’re willing to invest the time and effort required to pursue it. But if you obsess about it, if you don’t let yourself relax and take some space, if you refuse to wait for whatever will happen to happen it seems you’ve also got a pretty good chance of failing.
At this point I can kinda sorta juggle. Well enough to fake it at least. I don’t know if I’ll stick with it or not, it seems like a reasonable way to kill time but I don’t think it really impresses chicks and thus it’s coolness factor drops. And I didn’t really come to Cuba to learn to juggle, I’m still working on number one on my list.
You gotta be tough if you’re gonna be dumb
I had been in Havana for 12 days straight. This was extremely disappointing because Havana is officially one of my least favorite cities in the world. It’s dirty, it’s smelly, everything is broken and as a tourist you’re constantly being hounded. There are nice things in Havana but they are mostly off-limits to Cubans, strictly for tourists only. And I find that lack of freedom and liberty amazingly sad. Of course there are some things about Havana that I'm really enjoying, and that explains why I hadn’t as of yet managed to escape the city.
Before I came here Joost and I traded e-mails with the idea of doing a little traveling in Cuba and exploring this island. Everyone needs a plan B you know. My priority, like always was finding a beach and doing some snorkeling. Joost is from Holland or the Netherlands, I forget which but I think they might be the same place, go figure. And apparently they bike a lot in Holland or the Netherlands or where ever.
So as we were talking about heading to Varadero, the most touristy resort in all of Cuba, Joost
suggested biking there. Varadero didn’t really appeal that much too me, mostly because I’ve decided I hate tourist and hate acknowledging that I am one, but Joost is a ceritified dive master and assured me that Varardero is world famous for it’s diving and I would love it. Varadero is also something like a 140 kilometers from Havana and the mid-day sun in Cuba during June is deadly hot.
As we started telling our plan to people around the house they looked at us with the same look I’ve come to know and love over my 5 months of traveling…”silly gringo, what are you thinking?” After the 10th Cuban we told this lovely idea to told us we were nuts I decided I really really liked this plan and I think Joost started having second thoughts.
We changed things up a bit and decided instead of taking two days to head to Varadero we’d only go half the distance (about 65 kms) to Playa Jibacoa and wait an extra day. Sunday night we got a group together and closed down a salsa club. Fun was had by all. Monday night the Irish girls wanted to go out again, and I said I was going to bed early. Joost decided he would go out for just a little bit and we were meeting up bright and early in the morning to head out on our journey. I understood, it's awfully hard to say no to Irish girls.
Before I took off Yanet asked me if I was sure I was going to do this. I’ve noticed that every time in my life that I’ve done something stupid that’s gotten me into trouble there was always a
moment where a little voice inside of my head said “are you sure?” It’s usually not external but I wondered if this was an exception. Regardless I headed to the casa for breakfast and found out that Joost hadn’t woken up yet. Then I ran into Xiomara who told me they were out till 6 in the morning partying the night before. I warned him was going to happen.
I woke Joost up and waited for him to tell me the words I was expecting, “dude, I’m sorry but I’m gonna bail” I know if I was in the same situation that’s what I would be saying. But I must say, Joost is a trooper. He looked like death and wasn’t anywhere close to being ready, but he said give him 5 minutes and he’d be game. 5 minutes turned into almost an hour but Joost was not going to drop. He let me know that if I wanted to cancel plans he wouldn’t be offended. But I had no sympathy for the devil and we were heading to Playa Jibacoa today.
We eventually managed to rent our bikes which turned out to be in a woeful state of disrepair. Such is life in Cuba. As we headed to our first destination, the ciclobus stop which we needed to take to get around Havana Bay we saw our bus pull out. Joost and I lo
oked at each other and decided we could still catch it and we took off, fast. I don’t know exactly what happened next but I saw Joost go down, hard, in the middle of Havana traffic. I will say this for him, he got up real fast but the bailing wire and duct tape that was holding together his bike needed some attention so we forgot about taking the bus. Instead we headed for the ferry terminal.
After getting off the ferry we learned why everyone told us to take the bus. It turned out our journey was going to start by climbing a series of hills for the next 5 kms go get ourselves up to Via Blanca, and the bus avoids all of this. Such is life and we troopered on gallantly, every Cuban we talked to pointed us in a different direction but somehow we found our path.
The ride to Jibacoa was damned hard. Harder than Mount Aconcagua, harder than Machu Piccu. It the middle of the day and ridiculously hot. Something was obviously lost in the translation that told me the trip was “mostly flat” because we just saw slopping hills the entire way. We stopped plenty of times to re-hydrate and ask ourselves who came up with this brilliant idea. We tossed the idea of stopping around but neither one of us was going to be the guy that bowed out first.
I started out feeling great but ran out of gas as the day wore on. Joost started out really slow recovering from his hang-over but by the end of the day I could barely keep up with him. I guess he was right about the Dutch and their biking skills, although I alw
ays caught up to him on the hills. I guess you never go up much when you’re country is mostly under water.
Both are bikes were barely holding together but we actually had to make 3 seperate repair stops for Joost's winner of a bike. The bolt that held the baggage carrier in place got lost along the journey somewhere and we almost decided to quit right there and then. But we decided to stop by a nearby farm and ask for help and it's true, Cubans are lovely people. Not only did they find us a bolt that fit but they gave us cold water and refused any offer of payment.
As we passed by a beautiful beach with corals right off the shore. Joost looked at me and said how about a dip? I said let’s wait for the next one. We spent the next 30 kms riding past ugly
refineries spewing out smoke. And then at about 8:30 PM we pulled into Jibocoa Playa. I thought about the nice lady at the bike store and how she told us not to ride our bikes on the sand and I sailed on off the road and dumped my bike on the beach as we watched the sun dip down.
I still have no idea why we went on this ridiculous trip, the bus takes an hour and costs $0.40. But sometimes it’s about the journey and not the destination. And it felt damned good to be able to say we were able to do this, when everyone told us it was a crazy idea. Go ahead, tell me what else I can’t do and watch as I prove you wrong.
I had been in Havana for 12 days straight. This was extremely disappointing because Havana is officially one of my least favorite cities in the world. It’s dirty, it’s smelly, everything is broken and as a tourist you’re constantly being hounded. There are nice things in Havana but they are mostly off-limits to Cubans, strictly for tourists only. And I find that lack of freedom and liberty amazingly sad. Of course there are some things about Havana that I'm really enjoying, and that explains why I hadn’t as of yet managed to escape the city.
Before I came here Joost and I traded e-mails with the idea of doing a little traveling in Cuba and exploring this island. Everyone needs a plan B you know. My priority, like always was finding a beach and doing some snorkeling. Joost is from Holland or the Netherlands, I forget which but I think they might be the same place, go figure. And apparently they bike a lot in Holland or the Netherlands or where ever.
So as we were talking about heading to Varadero, the most touristy resort in all of Cuba, Joost
suggested biking there. Varadero didn’t really appeal that much too me, mostly because I’ve decided I hate tourist and hate acknowledging that I am one, but Joost is a ceritified dive master and assured me that Varardero is world famous for it’s diving and I would love it. Varadero is also something like a 140 kilometers from Havana and the mid-day sun in Cuba during June is deadly hot.As we started telling our plan to people around the house they looked at us with the same look I’ve come to know and love over my 5 months of traveling…”silly gringo, what are you thinking?” After the 10th Cuban we told this lovely idea to told us we were nuts I decided I really really liked this plan and I think Joost started having second thoughts.
We changed things up a bit and decided instead of taking two days to head to Varadero we’d only go half the distance (about 65 kms) to Playa Jibacoa and wait an extra day. Sunday night we got a group together and closed down a salsa club. Fun was had by all. Monday night the Irish girls wanted to go out again, and I said I was going to bed early. Joost decided he would go out for just a little bit and we were meeting up bright and early in the morning to head out on our journey. I understood, it's awfully hard to say no to Irish girls.
Before I took off Yanet asked me if I was sure I was going to do this. I’ve noticed that every time in my life that I’ve done something stupid that’s gotten me into trouble there was always a
moment where a little voice inside of my head said “are you sure?” It’s usually not external but I wondered if this was an exception. Regardless I headed to the casa for breakfast and found out that Joost hadn’t woken up yet. Then I ran into Xiomara who told me they were out till 6 in the morning partying the night before. I warned him was going to happen.I woke Joost up and waited for him to tell me the words I was expecting, “dude, I’m sorry but I’m gonna bail” I know if I was in the same situation that’s what I would be saying. But I must say, Joost is a trooper. He looked like death and wasn’t anywhere close to being ready, but he said give him 5 minutes and he’d be game. 5 minutes turned into almost an hour but Joost was not going to drop. He let me know that if I wanted to cancel plans he wouldn’t be offended. But I had no sympathy for the devil and we were heading to Playa Jibacoa today.
We eventually managed to rent our bikes which turned out to be in a woeful state of disrepair. Such is life in Cuba. As we headed to our first destination, the ciclobus stop which we needed to take to get around Havana Bay we saw our bus pull out. Joost and I lo
oked at each other and decided we could still catch it and we took off, fast. I don’t know exactly what happened next but I saw Joost go down, hard, in the middle of Havana traffic. I will say this for him, he got up real fast but the bailing wire and duct tape that was holding together his bike needed some attention so we forgot about taking the bus. Instead we headed for the ferry terminal.After getting off the ferry we learned why everyone told us to take the bus. It turned out our journey was going to start by climbing a series of hills for the next 5 kms go get ourselves up to Via Blanca, and the bus avoids all of this. Such is life and we troopered on gallantly, every Cuban we talked to pointed us in a different direction but somehow we found our path.
The ride to Jibacoa was damned hard. Harder than Mount Aconcagua, harder than Machu Piccu. It the middle of the day and ridiculously hot. Something was obviously lost in the translation that told me the trip was “mostly flat” because we just saw slopping hills the entire way. We stopped plenty of times to re-hydrate and ask ourselves who came up with this brilliant idea. We tossed the idea of stopping around but neither one of us was going to be the guy that bowed out first.
I started out feeling great but ran out of gas as the day wore on. Joost started out really slow recovering from his hang-over but by the end of the day I could barely keep up with him. I guess he was right about the Dutch and their biking skills, although I alw
ays caught up to him on the hills. I guess you never go up much when you’re country is mostly under water.Both are bikes were barely holding together but we actually had to make 3 seperate repair stops for Joost's winner of a bike. The bolt that held the baggage carrier in place got lost along the journey somewhere and we almost decided to quit right there and then. But we decided to stop by a nearby farm and ask for help and it's true, Cubans are lovely people. Not only did they find us a bolt that fit but they gave us cold water and refused any offer of payment.
As we passed by a beautiful beach with corals right off the shore. Joost looked at me and said how about a dip? I said let’s wait for the next one. We spent the next 30 kms riding past ugly
refineries spewing out smoke. And then at about 8:30 PM we pulled into Jibocoa Playa. I thought about the nice lady at the bike store and how she told us not to ride our bikes on the sand and I sailed on off the road and dumped my bike on the beach as we watched the sun dip down.I still have no idea why we went on this ridiculous trip, the bus takes an hour and costs $0.40. But sometimes it’s about the journey and not the destination. And it felt damned good to be able to say we were able to do this, when everyone told us it was a crazy idea. Go ahead, tell me what else I can’t do and watch as I prove you wrong.
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