Onward to Victory

If Cuba has a Catholic soul, it undoubtedly resides in Camagüey, a city of baroque churches and gilded altars, where haunting ecclesial spires rise like minarets above the narrow streets. From the rooftop of the Gran Hotel where we're staying, the Iglesia de Nuestra Señora del la Merced looms high over the city. Dating from 1748 it is arguably Camagüey's most impressive colonial church.

Gleaming after a much-lauded 2007 renovation the Iglesia de Nuestra Señora de la Soledad is a massive brick structure dating from 1779. Its picturesque cream-and-terracotta tower actually predates the rest of the structure and is an eye-catching landmark on the city skyline.

The Iglesia de Nuestra Señora del Carmen, a twin-towered baroque beauty dating from 1825, is another church that shares digs with a former convent.

The dazzling Parque Ignacio Agramonte square in the heart of the city lures visitors with rings of marble benches and an equestrian statue of Camagüey's War of Independence hero.

Due to acute water shortages in the area in the 1600s sugar production, the townsfolk were forced to make tinajones in order to collect rainwater and even today Camagüey is known as the city of tinajones—although the large pots now serve a strictly ornamental purpose.

The Casa de la Trova Patricio Ballagas has an atmospheric patio where old crooners sing and young couples chachachá. One of Cuba's best trova houses, where the regular tourist traffic takes nothing away from the old-world authenticity.

Here's a sampling for your viewing and listening pleasure.

“Overcome.” While the directional signage in Cuba is famously thin on the ground, there are no lack of pointers toward socialism, the ‘battle of ideas’ and Fidel Castro's face. In a country devoid of gaudy advertising, billboards have become the preserve of political propagandists. You can't travel far in Cuba without encountering a Che motto, a rebuke to the Yanquis or a quasi-biblical poem extolling the heroic virtues of José Marti. Whatever your position on the diplomatic finger-wagging, this is part of the fabric of the Cuban countryside.

“United in the production and defense of socialism.”

“Onward to Victory.”

“Socialism or Death.” That's the spirit.

Time for a getaway from the everyday—that is the pollution, the frenetic pace of life and crowded streets, bumping endlessly along potholed roads, the hustling jineteros, the arguing from being hugely and often illegally overcharged as touristas. The only escape, which Tim has never experienced, is the peace and tranquility of the All-Inclusivo so we book into the Blau Costa Verde Resort at Guardalavaca for a few days of sun, sand and endless buffets.

Back on the road we pass many tempting roadside fruit and vegetable stands.

“Cuba's revolution is immortal.”

The Basílica de Nuestra Señora del Cobre, high on a hill 20km northwest of Santiago de Cuba, is Cuba's most sacred pilgrimage site and shrine of the nation's patron saint: La Virgen de la Caridad (Our Lady of Charity), or Cachita, as she is also known.

For such a powerful entity La Virgen is amazingly diminutive, some 40cm from crown to the hem of her golden robe.

The ‘room of miracles’ downstairs in the visitors center contains thousands of offerings giving thanks for favours bestowed by the virgin. Clumps of hair, a TV, a thesis, a tangle of stethoscopes, a raft and cases of baseball paraphernalia crowd the room.

You can take Santiago de Cuba in one of two ways: a hot, aggravating city full of hustlers and hassle that'll have you gagging to get on the first bus back to Havana; or a glittering cultural capital that has played an instrumental part in the evolution of Cuban literature, music, architecture, politics and ethnology. Some love it, others hate it; few are indifferent. We arrive late but just in time for a mojito on the rooftop of the Hotel Casa Granda in the glow of Parque Cespedes cathedral.

We start our day at the Castillo de San Pedro de la Roca del Morro. A Unesco World Heritage Site the fort sits like an impregnable citadel atop a 60m-high promontory at the entrance to Santiago harbour, 10km southwest of the city. The fort was designed in 1587 to protect Santiago from pillaging pirates who had successfully sacked the city in 1554.

The Catedral de Nuestra Señora de la Asunción by day.

The lovely boutique Hostal San Basilio where we're staying is another of Cubanacan's Encanto brand.

Nestled peacefully on the western edge of the city, the Cementerio Santa Ifigenia is second only to Havana's Necrópolis Cristóbal Colón in its importance and grandiosity. Created in 1868 to accommodate the victims of the War of Independence and a simultaneous yellow-fever outbreak, the Santa Ifigencia includes many great historical figures among its 8000-plus tombs.

The highlight of the cemetery, for most, is the quasi-religious mausoleum to national hero José Martí (1853-95).

Erected in 1951 during the Batista era, the imposing hexagonal structure is positioned so that Martí's wooden casket (draped solemnly in a Cuban flag) receives daily shafts of sunlight. This is in response to a comment Martí made in one of his poems that he would like to die not as a traitor in darkness, but with his visage facing the sun.

A round-the-clock guard of the mausoleum is changed, amid much pomp and ceremony, every 30 minutes.

Among the names are Tomás Estrada Palma, Cuba's now-disgraced first president, Emilio Bacardi y Moreau of the famous rum dynasty, and international celebrity-cum-popular-music-rake, Campay Segundo of Buena Vista Social Club fame (above).

As with all Cuban cities, Santiago has its bombastic revolution square. This one placed strategically at the junction of two sweeping avenues and anchored by an eye-catching statue of the city's dedicated hero (and native son), Antonio Maceo. The modernist rendition of Maceo atop his horse, hand cupped regally outwards is surrounded by a series of dagger-like bronze statuettes.

We continue through the province of Guantanamo towards our destination of Baracoa.

Leaving Guantanamo in a cloud of dust we quickly hit the long, dry coastal road to the island's eastern extremity. Before we know it we turn onto La Farola (the lighthouse road)—a present from Fidel built in 1964 to Baracoa's loyal revolutionaries who had supported him during the war in the mountains. Giant ferns sprout from lichen-covered rocks; small wooden huts cling to sharp bends; and local hawkers appear, seemingly out of nowhere, holding bananas, oranges and a sweet-tasting local delicacy wrapped in a palm frond known as cucurucho.

Tim gobbles one up to relieve his driving stress.

Cut off by land and sea for nearly half a millenium, Cuba's oldest city is, for most visitors, one if its most interesting. Founded in 1511 by Diego Velázquez de Cuéllar, Baracoa is a visceral place of fickle weather and hunting legends. After being semi-abandoned in the mid-16th century, the town became a Cuban Siberia where rebellious revolutionaries were sent as prisoners. In the early 19th century French planters crossed the 70km-wide Windward Passage from Haiti and began farming the local staples of coconut, cocoa, and coffee in the mountains and the economic wheels began to turn.

Today its premier attractions include trekking up mysterious El Yunque, the region's signature flat-topped mountain, or indulging in some inspired local cooking using ingredients and flavours found nowhere else in Cuba.

This is not inspired local cooking but yet another re-e-e-e-eally bad meal of bland rice and overcooked fish but to be fair the banana mash (top left) was quite tasty.

It doesn't take Sandi long to discover Cuba's best chocolate but Tim cringes at it's ridiculous tourist price of $2.50.

The delicious sweet smells filling the air in this neck of the woods are concocted in the famous chocolate factory opened, not by Willy Wonka, but by Che Guevara in 1963.

We visit Finca Duaba—a replica of a typical Cuban plantation where we get a taste of country life with a tour that teaches us about cocoa, coffee, bananas, and coconut trees and how they are harvested.

A hardened palm frond makes a good seat for a tired campesino.

Bright orange cocoa seed pods.

Time to test the stuff.

We leave with a ball of solid cocoa which Tim hopes Sandi will grate into powder when we get home and make him a delectable chocolate pudding.

We find a secluded, little bay for lunch at Villa Maguana.

More cucurucho for Tim. Baracoa's most unique culinary invention is undoubtedly cucurucho, a delicate mix of dried coconut, sugar, honey, papaya, guayaba, mandarin and nuts that is wrapped in an ecologically friendly palm frond.

Decorative strings of mandarin oranges are sold along the roadside. This savvy, young entrepreneur uses the local bus stop to reach customers. We're heading back west now and have a long way to drive to get to Las Tunas in a day.

TIM’S TIPS

Driving in Cuba

Cuba is a BIG country—1200 kms from end to end. No surprise that after we completed our trip we realized we had driven 3600kms on Cuba's road network! On the plus side roads are quite empty leaving time to enjoy the peaceful countryside scenery around you.

The “Autopista” offers the fastest point-to-point travel, often as wide as an 8-lane highway but with no painted lines, very few road signs and with a very poor surface due to years of neglect since it was first built by the Russians in the early 80's.

Due to the undulating surface speed is restricted to around 100kms as the endless potholes keeps you on your guard constantly weaving and changing lanes to seek the smoothest route.

Other hazards include horse and cart drivers who make unexpected lane changes and people selling produce who stand in the centre of the highway to slow you down at least until you can see what they are selling.

The towns are a different matter—not because of cars, but due to numerous horse and oxen carts, motorcycles with sidecars, cyclists, stray dogs, goats, chickens, hitchhikers and people and children walking in the middle of the street because cars in smaller cities are so infrequent. The road is everyone's lifeline.

A warning to drivers. Obtain a good road map before you leave home. Do not drive at night. Road signs are non-existent and where they do exist the turn direction arrow has often been altered or scratched out completely to confuse tourists. As you slow down to figure out the correct route, jineteros (hustlers) will flag you down and offer to ride in your car to show you the right road then demand a fee for their service or try to sell you something like accommodation for which they get a commission. Luckily, we didn't fall for any of it.

Nevertheless for all the hassles, driving your own car offers the freedom of the road and the delight of travelling alongside Cubans in their vintage 1950's US made Cadillacs, Chevy's and Ford's—a testament the glory days of the US auto industry.

The fact that these classic cars are running at all after 60 years on the road is a true testament to Cuban ingenuity. Especially with limited access to spare parts due the US embargo on trade with Cuba.