Onward

So, from the concrete canyons of old Havana to the misty valley of Vinales in the west now to the beautiful boulevards of Cienfuegos in the south east. Our journey took us

from the H10 Havana Panorama Hotel in the eastern Miramar district of Havana through the residential Kohli district, around the Necropolis de Colon (an enormous walled cemetery containing armies of tightly packed stone sarcophagi), past the famous Plaza de la Revolution where the brightly painted custom car owners line up to take tourists on open-top rides, through the old town of Havana Vieja to the tunnel under the bay. At the other side you can circle around to visit the 17th century fort that dominates the entrance of the bay and take pictures of Havana in all its glory.

Some distance along the south east road we stopped for lunch at the Finca Fiesta Campesina, a jolly little idealised picture of Cuban rural life which also doubled up as a zoo (well, it had a crocodile lounging behind a fence and and a sort of cross between a rat and a capybara sitting in a tree). Spookily, it was not only lunchtime but cocktail o'clock. Since we'd already pigged out at breakfast, Linda and I continued to develop the tricky Cuban skill of pouring our own measures of rum into pina coladas provided by the owners of the park. This practice is not only legal but actively encouraged by the bar staff. Satisfied that we'd finally achieved a satisfactory level of competency, we settled back for the rest of the journey to the Bay of Pigs.

I don't know about you but all subjects like "Bay of Pigs" or "Guantanamo Bay" produce a vague resonance but without much understanding. In fact, I will confess that I didn't really know that Guantanamo was even in Cuba until a few years ago. Since then, that fact has been, I'm afraid, a source of vague confusion to me (surely the US has had a 50 year embargo on the country yet they have a base on it --- wtf?). But more about that later. Most of us I think, lived through, and were aware of, the Cuban Missile Crisis and watched black and white sci-fi movies about the expanding affects of radiation on ants and lizards. And somewhere along the way we all heard about the Bay of Pigs. Well, happily, courtesy of Saga and our local tour guide, we were allowed to visit the Giron Museum on that very subject. Seems that, after Fidel kicked out and Americans in 1959, said Americans sorta held a grudge (unbelievable, I know, to think that they could ever be so petty). Also, it seemed that all the rich, land-owning Cubans who left for the US after an extensive frenzy of nationalisation were similarly cross. So the CIA trained and financed an invasion by said disenfranchised Cubans, helpfully bombed Cuban runways to confuse matters, provided some planes (with US markings removed) and boats (ostensibly mercantile vessels but owned -- ultimately -- by a chap called Bush -- yes, that one) and generally supported the invasion down on the Playa Giron. Turned out Fidel got wind of it and basically kicked their asses. Anyway, I think that's the gist of it according to the museum. Unfortunately, the government recently decided to remove all the English translations in the museum so I can't be sure of the details but all the diagrams and photographs were interesting.

Eventually, we were freed of our history lessons and arrived at the Hotel Jagua, a rather charming place on the end of a long road jutting into Cienfuegos bay. The bay itself is huge affair pinched at it's seaward end by a small inlet. Typically, our tour included a trip around the bay on a cramped noisy boat. Not much to see so most people shuffled to the tiny bar in the centre for a generous Cuba libre. The hotel on the other hand does have a spacious seating area and a bar right next to the swimming pool and the bay itself. We made it just in time for a glorious sunset. OK for the next three nights, I think.