Saturday December 10 - Sunday December 18
- Viñales ... Sat Dec 10 - Tue Dec 13 ... 3 nights
- Cienfuegos ... Tue Dec 13 ... 1 night
- Trinidad ... Wed Dec 14 - Fri Dec 16 ... 2 nights
- La Habana ... Fri Dec 16 - Sun Dec 18 ... 2 nights
From the airport we took a taxi directly to Viñales. We drove in a new Lada.
- "Lada is a Russian car"?
- "Yes".
- "Is it a good car"?
- "No".
Our taxi driver was a guy in his 50s. He was critical of the Cuban government and spoke of his 20-something daughters trying to get out of Cuba and reach the US via Nicaragua. He said the government values a policeman more than it values a doctor, and that change was coming too slowly.
It was quickly apparent that there was little commercial development around the airport or along the highway, and very little traffic. We were heading west on the Autopista Nacional, the major highway that runs the length of the country. It is two lanes in each direction. There were no stores, and we passed only a couple of gas stations—each had long lines, which our driver explained were people waiting for a truck to deliver fuel.
The highway was in decent shape, with exits every 5 or 6 miles and people trying to flag down our taxi for a ride. We passed under overpasses that were clearly decades old, with no connecting roads. About 40 or 50 minutes after we started, the sun went down. There were no streetlights on the highway or the ramps. We could see small fires in the distance (making charcoal?) and alongside the on-ramps and off-ramps (burning trash?).
We were expecting a 2.5 to 3-hour ride, but about 2 hours in, our driver started slowing at each exit. His vision was poor and he couldn't read the signs in the dark. The secondary road to Viñales featured sharp turns, steep hills, and terrible conditions—deep potholes and missing pavement everywhere. Our driver went extremely slowly. Once we reached town, we read the street signs and house numbers aloud to him, and we made it to our casa particular safe and sound.
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| Casa Tatica |
Casa Tatica was a nice-looking home close to the center of the small pueblo. It featured a gated entrance, an outdoor walkway leading to a shared patio, and separate entrances for two rental rooms—each with two beds, a private bath, hot water, a refrigerator, and air conditioning. There was a relaxing covered patio with tables and chairs, as well as an unfinished roof deck offering great views of the surrounding countryside. Damage from Hurricane Ian was visible in the neighborhood, including toppled fruit trees in our hosts' yard. It was a comfortable place to stay, with more privacy than I expected. We met the family: a friendly couple in their 40s and their teenage son, who appeared to have a dormant eye. Our host arranged a horseback tour of the valley for us in the morning—and offered to make us breakfast!
We were starving for dinner, and our host directed us to the town center. He told us not to miss the party in the streets closed off near the church. Walking the three blocks to the center, we saw that most of the homes in the area served as casas particulares. The center featured five or six restaurants, some fancier than others. A few served pizza, but we were looking for our first taste of authentic Cuban food. We both ordered the ropa vieja and a cold beer. Portion sizes were underwhelming, but the food was okay.
The streets in front of the church were indeed closed off and music was playing. A dozen or so street stands were set up selling cold beer and rum drinks. We drank mojitos, then "Bavaria" or "Hollandia" beer (unfortunately imported). My son tried the Havana Club rum. There were definitely more locals than tourists, with a few couples dancing to the music. There were small groups of local guys, but we noticed the only young women present were with a husband or boyfriend.
We again noted the absence of stores. There was a pharmacy with sadly empty shelves. There weren't many cars or motorcycles about, but we did talk to a guy who was rightfully proud of a restored vintage car. He said he would sell it for $35,000! |
| Mogotes |
In the morning, our host prepared a nice breakfast for us: fruta bomba (papaya) and pineapple, short thick sweet yellow bananas, a fried egg, bread, honey from the beehives in his backyard, papaya juice, coffee, hot milk, and hot chocolate mix.
Right on schedule, a cowboy appeared. Carlos walked us a half-dozen blocks away from town and past his home, "Casa del Cowboy." A short walk over a stream led us to our horses and our guide, a younger guy in full campesino attire. Tronco was a calm, strong horse, and Pepe followed right behind him.
We proceeded slowly past fields of frijoles and other crops, taking on a few steep stream crossings while Tronco grabbed greens to eat along the way. We passed a few other gringos led by their own guides. Our guide was accompanied by an older woman who appeared to be his partner, though she hardly spoke at all.
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| Vinales |
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| Tronco the horse |
And within 30 minutes, we were among the mogotes the valley is famous for. Mogotes are steep limestone hills unlike anything I had seen before, covered in lush vegetation that makes them strikingly green. There were caves visible on a few of them. A little farther along, we had mogotes on both sides. We were in the Viñales Valley, best known for its high-quality tobacco production.
An hour in, we stopped at a hut where an older man talked to us about tobacco and cigars. He explained that he and his brothers were allowed to grow tobacco in the park, but the government took 90% of the harvest. Still, it was clear that he had dozens of employees and appeared to be doing okay. The hurricane had devastated the tobacco crop and knocked down their drying racks, so both the farmers and the government were set to have a rough year. We smelled the leaves—a strong, earthy cigar aroma. He rolled one in front of us, dipped the tip in honey, and we lit up. Neither of us are smokers, but "when in Rome...".
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| Vinales Cigars |
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| Vinales Valley |
I bought a dozen cigars for $40 after the briefest negotiation—I still have no idea if they are any good or not! Our tour continued to the base of a mogote, where we dismounted our horses and joined a small group of European tourists entering a cave. We were asked to donate 200 pesos each (about $1.40). The cave went in about 400 feet, crossing a small stream. It was very dark, filled with stalactites and stalagmites, and finally led to an underground river—maybe 10 or 12 feet across and 4 to 8 feet deep, and cold. The Europeans were better prepared and jumped in to swim, while we retreated to Tronco and Pepe.
Our guide led us back the way we had come. We stopped and got a sales pitch on local rum and honey, but it seemed very expensive and we weren't interested, so we headed back with Tronco leading the way—no directions needed. Our guide was repeatedly yelling "Tronco!" or "Caballo!" to keep us moving, occasionally rushing up to whack Tronco with a switch, prompting him to trot for 50 or 60 feet. Soon enough, we were back at our starting point.
It was a great morning: five hours in a beautiful place. The saddles were comfortable, likely because we went at such a slow pace. By now it was 1:00 p.m. and very hot in town. We enjoyed lunch with cold beers, but I soon realized I had no energy. Maybe dehydrated? Or maybe I caught a bug at the company party the day before we left, or on the plane? Could it be COVID-19? We relaxed for the rest of the afternoon and had a leisurely dinner. I tried to get some aspirin or cough suppressant at the pharmacy—hah!
On Monday, we went to the beach at Cayo Jutías. It's a beautiful beach on a peninsula off the northern coast of Pinar del Río, where the narrow strip of white sand is sandwiched between mangroves and the turquoise sea. The road from Viñales was rough, with long stretches under construction, but our young driver handled it well. The drive was around 90 minutes each way, but the powdery sand and crystal-clear water made it all worthwhile. There was even a guy selling ice-cold drinks—beers for 250 pesos ($1.50). Thank you! Lunch at the seaside government restaurant was less impressive, but the location was great and the price was super cheap.
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| Cayo Jutias |
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| Cayo Jutias |
Tuesday was a travel day. We wanted to get from Viñales to Trinidad, and the best option available was a colectivo to Havana (3 hours) followed by another colectivo to Cienfuegos (4 hours). It was a long ride. Our first co-passengers were tourists from France and Australia who didn't speak any Spanish, while our second set of passengers were locals from Cienfuegos.
I enjoyed talking with our Cienfuegos driver, Víctor. He made a few calls and set us up at a casa particular near the tourist area. Hostal Teresa turned out to be a great place for just $20. We were in the heart of Cienfuegos, which felt like a big city compared to Viñales. The room was much like our previous stay, but there was a common area with a TV and comfortable seating. It was a short walk to the Paseo del Prado, a broad avenue with a tree-lined center walkway that leads directly into the Malecón.
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| Hostal Teresa |
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| Cienfuegos |
Unfortunately, there weren't many shops, restaurants, or bars. But we found a street vendor selling snacks, and eventually, we found a restaurant and later a churro shop—so it all turned out well. The Malecón area was pretty, but there wasn't a lot going on. Cienfuegos seemed like more of an industrial city, and there weren't many tourists. Though, to be fair, we didn't visit the famous Jagua Castle across Cienfuegos Harbor. I turned in early, tired from whatever bug I had caught and the long car rides, so I took a tuk-tuk back to our hostal. My son soldiered on, but reported later that I hadn't missed much.
Wednesday morning, our hostess prepared us a nice breakfast: fresh fruits, coffee, milk, and bread. We dined with an older Spanish couple staying in the other room. Víctor showed up on schedule to drive us to Trinidad. We saw more of Cienfuegos on our way out, but once outside the city center, there was little car traffic. Cuba has very few motorcycles, and on this secondary highway, horses and carriages might have actually outnumbered cars. We passed through sugarcane fields and crossed bridges over rivers—a landscape very different from the mountainous terrain we had seen earlier.
We were stopped at a police checkpoint where Víctor was required to produce papers showing he was licensed to drive a taxi. He had told us he held an engineering degree and was, like many Cubans, an educated professional who found he could make far better money as a driver. College in Cuba is free, so many people pursue advanced degrees in engineering and medicine.
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| Playa Ancón |
Before we got to Trinidad, we saw signs for Playa Ancón, which I'd read was the nicest beach in Sancti Spíritus province. Víctor took us there and we had a relaxing day at the beach. We were on the south side of Cuba now, along the Caribbean. The water was warmer, it was less windy, and there were no bugs. There were a few big resort hotels nearby as well as a restaurant and bar. They rented us beach chairs under a shade umbrella—which was great, because we didn't even have towels! Again, we had cold beer delivered right to us on request. Víctor charged us just $50 for what turned out to be a couple hundred miles of driving and pretty much a full day with his car.
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| Playa Ancón |
In Trinidad, the tourist area is on a hill with a big church at the top. The streets are a form of cobblestone, but packed with smaller, uneven stones—not nearly as smooth as regular cobblestones. We let a twenty-something on the street guide us to his parents' home, which serves as a casa particular. We met his parents and Rocki, their friendly little dog. Again, we had a comfortable room—this time upstairs from the family living quarters—with two terraces, including one on the roof offering great views of the city. It was very pleasant.
Trinidad felt much more touristy than Cienfuegos. There were guys asking to "change money" or sell cigars. Strangely, they didn't actually have the cigars on them—only pictures on their cell phones. Apparently, they would get into trouble if the police caught them carrying the goods. We had a relaxing drink and sandwiches on the Plaza Mayor, near the church, as musicians began to play. They sounded great. Later, we saw nice restaurants advertising French and Italian food, but the prices were two or three times what we had seen previously.
On Thursday, after our host fed us breakfast (similar to our previous stops), we organized a car to take us to Topes de Collantes National Park. The road climbed into some serious hills right outside
We continued up into the mountains. We had some issues getting entrance passes, as they required credit cards for purchase. So, instead of Salto del Caburní, we ended up hiking to Vegas Grandes. It was a relatively easy hike to a pretty awesome waterfall.
There was a coffee plantation closer to the road where we watched them grind and roast coffee beans, and we enjoyed some truly great coffee before proceeding with our hike. Our driver walked with us and talked with the park ranger to get him to accept our entrance fee in cash. We also enjoyed cold drinks at his uncle's house above the falls.
The descent was perhaps 300 feet and very steep, but the view of the falls was wonderful. We swam in the pool beneath the falls and were amazed at how cold the water felt. Frigid! How could anything in the tropics be so cold? We guessed the water was coming from an underground river, but even still... so cold!
Hiking back, we got a little lost following some Spanish guys. Dummies! But it all turned out well, and our driver took us back to Trinidad. That night, we ate at a rooftop restaurant and enjoyed great music while drinking mojitos—five or six guys with
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| Vargas Grande |
On Friday, we headed to Havana. We had negotiated a colectivo the day before, assuming we would be sharing the car with two other passengers. We got lucky when an out-of-town taxi showed up late the night before, looking for any fare he could find leaving Trinidad by 8:00 a.m. Apparently, he had a fare lined up at Havana Airport in the early afternoon. I guess the colectivo organizer couldn't find any other passengers to join us, so we got the car to ourselves—and a fun driver to talk to as well. He was from Viñales and wasn't shy about criticizing the government. He also thought chan
As we passed oil refineries, he explained that the oil was from Venezuela. When we saw billboards featuring Fidel and Raúl's images alongside Hugo Chávez, emphasizing their cooperation, our driver lamented what Chávez had done to his country. He denounced socialism, saying all we needed to do was look at East and West Germany or North and South Korea to see that socialism doesn't work. As we continued, he pointed out the turnoff to Bahía de Cochinos (Bay of Pigs). Passing rice paddies, he noted sacks of rice on the side of the road, explaining that farmers spread the rice along the asphalt to dry it in the heat. Eventually, we arrived in La Habana, the "City of Columns."
I thought we should look for a place to stay in Habana Vieja near the Malecón. This led us on a long walk through the old city into a commercial area with hardly any casas particulares in sight. So, we took a tuk-tuk back to where we had started. We found a place that looked and felt very much like a Western hotel, overlooking Plaza Vieja. It was a hotel in every way but name—Hostal something-or-other.
Old Havana is a fantastic place to walk around, as most of it is closed off to vehicle traffic. There is a rich colonial feel to everything, and most of the buildings are hundreds of years old. Plaza de San Francisco de Asís is a beautiful, open square. Walk a few blocks, and you're at the Basilica San Francisco de Asís or the Cathedral of San Cristóbal, built in the 1700s. It is the historic and tourist heart of town, with an energetic vibe. We encountered more stores within a few blocks than we had seen the entire week—not department stores, but tourist shops, cigar stores, restaurants, coffee shops, and even a bookstore.
Old Havana is surprisingly big. Probably 10 blocks by 10 blocks. On Friday night we rode a tuk-tuk down the famous Malecón. It is 2 lanes each way starting from the harbor and running the length of the city along the sea. The sea wall is high above the water, and on this calm evening the sea was rougher than I would have expected, with waves crashing into the base of the wall with force. We bought a couple of ice cold beers from a shady guy with a pail walking beside a popcorn vendor and drank them on the wall near the impressive statue of San Lazaro, the leper who came back to life. There were locals about, but since the Malecón runs for miles, people are generally spread out. Back at Plaza Vieja we enjoyed a female singer with a great voice covering popular hits, including Camila Cabello's 'Havana', which seemed appropriate.
On Saturday morning, we took a ferry across the harbor to the fort on the other side and the Faro Castillo del Morro. It's a combination lighthouse, fort, and castle. The fort part is very big, with some of the original cannons still in place. We also visited El Cristo de la Habana and Che Guevara
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| El Cristo de la Habana |
Che's old digs are now a museum. There are pictures of Che at different ages in many different places. Turns out Che was a trained medical doctor, enjoyed riding motorcycles, and played chess. He also had asthma, hence his home on the water. We took a taxi back, traveling in a tunnel under the harbor, and walked up the city's grandest promenade.
Paseo del Prado is a European-style boulevard connecting the old fort guarding the harbor to the domed Capitol building. It's a great place to walk on a Saturday afternoon. The center walkway is shaded, wide, and immaculate. There are kids skateboarding, families strolling, and artists showing their paintings.
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| Paseo del Prado |
The Capitol building area was lively. There were dozens of classic cars available to give tours. There were musicians across the street in Parque Central. But when we ventured beyond that, the locals warned us we shouldn't go any farther, referring to criminals in the area. We took their advice, though really, we never felt unsafe in Cuba.
Our last night in Havana, we enjoyed the best meal of the trip. My son enjoyed a fried fish, and I had a pork chop. We were seated outside and treated to a live band. For the first few songs, it seemed something was missing. Then a guy with a saxophone arrived, and it all came together. The band was cooking for the rest of
I'd wanted to visit Cuba for a long time, and traveling with my son made it a special trip for me. It's not difficult to book a flight—United and American Airlines both fly direct from several US cities, and airfare is not expensive ($400). There are no difficulties with US authorities under the "Support for the Cuban People" designation, as long as you follow the rules and avoid government hotels.
The casas particulares are pleasant and easy to find, though we did encounter bed bugs at one of our early stops. The only inconvenience for Americans is being unable to use ATMs and credit cards. The information I had on changing money proved to be outdated. Knowing what I know now, as of December 2022, I'd recommend changing only $100 or $200 to Cuban pesos to start. Taxis, colectivos, and casas particulares all prefer US dollars, and these will be your major expenses. As of now, Euros are valued the same as US dollars. Cuban pesos are used in restaurants and with vendors for beer, ice cream, and such. You'll have no difficulty changing dollars to pesos at any point in your trip—everyone wants dollars.
There were difficulties booking Viazul buses, as reservations needed to be made by credit card, and as Americans we couldn't use our credit cards. Also, the buses traveled infrequently. Instead, we traveled by colectivo (shared taxi).
I found Cuba fascinating. I expected beautiful beaches and mountains, and they didn't disappoint. I expected something like a Dominican Republic frozen in the 1960s. Instead, I found a highly agrarian society with horses and carriages on the national highway and on the streets of secondary cities. I understood it was a Communist country where the government supplied the citizens with basic needs, but I was still shocked by the lack of stores. The people can't buy any
It's a difficult situation. If they switched from communism to capitalism overnight, then half the people would no longer have jobs. They rely on the government for housing, food, water, clothing, education, cell phones, cable TV—everything. Their ba
