Cuba 2015, 04
It is an early morning for us. We are headed for Valle de Viñales, or Viñales Valley, another of our UNESCO World Heritage Sites. The valley is a karst depression in the Pinar del Río Province. Dotted with limestone, “sugar-plum” hills covered in plants unique to the area, it is a fantastical landscape and quite beautiful with the rich red soil contrasting with the lush green vegetation.
Edel has arranged for bag breakfasts, as the hotel café won’t open for another hour. Our bags contain tasty, traditional, Cuban ham-and-cheese sandwiches, fruit for the vegetarians, and something to drink. We have to wait for our first stop for coffee.
People drift back to sleep, as it is still dark out. Tomas, our trusty driver, babies the bus, and the ride is smooth in spite of sections of road that are very rough.
The coffee stop also has freshly squeezed juices, and people line up for this treat. There are also photo opportunities. A man turns pieces of fruit into intricate flowers. A sow out back grunts at her visitors.
Everyone is ready to continue on. The drive takes several hours total, not so much because of the distance from La Habana westward, rather because of the condition of some of the highways and roads.
We meet our guide whom we had last year. We love how people remember us and give warm hugs and greetings. It is the way of Cuban people when they like one another.
He has planned a walk of a couple of hours for us. Now, a two-hour walk for regular people stretches into four for photographers. It is like herding cats to keep the enthusiastic stragglers somewhat within view of the group, but that is fine. That is why we are here.
Our walk starts down a hill into one of the many campos (fields) in the valley. Up another hill, and we have arrived at our first farm. A man creates furrows in the hillside field with his team of oxen and a simple-but-effective tool. We give the oxen a wide berth. They can be unpredictable, and they are much larger than we are. Then man has planted as he has made the furrows. Later, he walks along the rows, kicking soil from the furrow hills into the valleys, then lightly tamps it down.
We see a large pineapple field, row upon row stretching toward the hills.
Another farmer cuts one and serves us succulent, not-too-sweet, juicy pieces. We are in heaven. None of us has tasted pineapple quite this good.
But he is a working man and needs to attend to his chores. He hitches his
horse up to the cart by the old barn.
There is a pile of poles, perhaps that will be used to repair the barn roof. He stops the horse in the shade of an arty tree. Against the bright sky, they are near silhouettes.
We continue exploring, chatting with the farmer and with our guide who gives us good insights to life in this area. He is from this valley, so he knows it and the people who live in it well.
A truck carrying workers to lunch comes up a hill towards us. Many of our group have brought candies for the children. There is clamoring as hands reach out on both sides. The rest of us cannot even get close to the truck.
It is time for lunch. We return to a wonderful, organic farm where we ate last year. Again, after a quick moment of recognition, hugs and kisses all around. The owner is a bit of a ham and very engaging. We are served a tradition rum drink from this valley. It is made with coconut juice, not milk, rum, several spices, and believe me, it goes down very easily. Many of us had seconds, along with plenty of water to keep us hydrated.
Platters of suckling pig, lamb, fish, pollo (chicken), and vegetable galore arrive on the table. There are fried plantains, sweet potatoes, yucca, traditional potato nuggets (but so much healthier than the fast-food version), salads and slaws. “No mas, no mas!” We are full.
But maybe not so full that we cannot dive into the flan. Smooth and delicious, it is hard to refuse.
Our group wants to see a cigar being rolled. Arnie and I feel those situations are so canned, so fake, that we propose something different. After all, the farm across the way is chocker-block full of busses. Ugh!
How about a visit to a tobacco-sorting “factory”? It is a modest cost, and the group unanimously agrees that this would be interesting and fun.
It is hot outside, but the building remains comfortable with its thick, stucco walls. Ladies sort in the soft, reflected glow of the light from outside. The walls are peppered with quotes from Fidel and Ché. This one loosely translates as, “Only the brave, only those who fight, only those who resist, Win!” In contrast, the ladies are delighted to see us. Again, they love “Americanos” and are hopeful that progress will continue with our two governments.
A large bus-load of people come in, but we tell our group that they will be soon gone. They are “doing” Cuba. We all much prefer our leisurely adventure where we get to interact with the people and spend a little time with them.
There will be a cigar-rolling demonstration for the new group. Like locusts they have come, and like locusts, they go. Yes, in just about ten minutes. As long as the man is rolling cigars, he demonstrates another for our group.
Meanwhile, I ask if I can go into the baling room where the sorted leaves are carefully pressed and baled with burlap, then carefully sewn shut. No baling today, but I always love the big press.
It has been a good day. A long day. We head back onto our bus for the trip back to La Habana after a stop for more waters for the bus cooler.
Edel is eager to tell us all he can about Cuba. He has given an “assignment” for people to write down questions. It is fun, and people are interested. It also passes the time.
Back in the city, people clean up and head off to dinner. We don’t try to do group dinners at this point. People mix and match and get to know one another on their own.
An excellent dinner, a mojito made with dark rum and honey, and we are ready for bed.
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I always love reading the blogs, I feel like I’m there with you! The images this year are even more spectacular than before. Them seem more soulful….
Benita,
WOW! Thank you! I am so glad these speak to you so much.
Take care, and thanks for commenting,
TBC
What an incredible experience that day. Meeting and talking with the farmers impacted me tremendously. They are farming such large tracts of land manually. I have such respect for them.
Bill,
What the Cuban people do with so little is amazing. And they never complain. Just work hard and enjoy the lives they have. So many in this country could take a page out of their books.
I know what you mean about respect for the Cuban farmers and people in general.
Take care, and thanks for commenting,
TBC