TUESDAY, August 09, 2016:
I arrived on the 4-hour bus to Vinales at 1p.m. and Yeyo did not come pick me up as she
promised. I hired a bike taxi for 3$ to
take me 6 blocks to her house. She was
busy; I waited. Her servant brought me
mango juice. I waited. She ended up putting me up at her bro-in-law
Chino’s place. He is a great cook, and
so is his wife, by the way (they made me a six course lobster dinner, but I
jump ahead…).
The Broken Down Angel in the White Cab-tastrophy
Chino got me some old broken down white taxi with the inside
of the doors stripped to take me out to the horse farm. This chick who drove the cab was dressed all
in white, even a white wrap on her hair.
Her car stalled three times before we got to the first stop sign, but
she was part of the horse package so I didn’t care. We drove out through town and onto a rocky
long road which she drove too fast and I was sure her car was going to take its
last breath on the way to the horse barn.
Puffing my way through Vinales
When we arrived there was a group of four Europeans that I
joined for a tour of the tobacco “factory” (ie barn), and some jamoke taught us
how to roll/make cigars. I got one
free. They were selling packages of 10
for 45$. One of the Europeans bought
one. Give a man a cigar and he thinks he
is on top of the world. You should’ve
seen these guys puff up and try to smoke the things without gagging. Lol
Tobacco plant drying
A cigar was part of the tour in Vinales
This guy taught us how a cigar is made.
On my trusty steed Pinto.
The breathtaking mountains of Vinales, off atop a horse.
A quaint little home in the mountains, around which pineapple, avocado, and coconuts grow.
Two steps behind me for two hours was my excellent little guide, Pedro yelling, "Left, right, straight" as the trail twisted and turned through the mountainside.
Pedro and the Coco Locos
Then we separated and I got my own horse/trail ride guide,
named Pedro. He had to help me get off
and on the horse because I had on a 10 pound backpack and was wearing
Birkenstocks. (Those, I am sure, are not
the only reasons I couldn’t smoothly hoist myself up and down, but that’s my
story and I’m sticking to it!)
We rode for two hours in the Cuban jungle and stopped once
to go swimming and drink “Coco (nut) Locos” out of freshly cut coconuts, and
the second time to take a hair-raising walk down a canyon and into caves
leading from one side of the mountain to the other. Some of these passageways were so narrow I
had to turn sideways and tug to get my backpack through them. The guide passed out 7 flashlights to a group
of about 15 of us, so I used the searchlight on my phone. A couple of the Brits in the group could
barely make it down into the canyon.
The French lady in front of me stank.
We were in very tight quarters. I, as has been the case a lot in Cuba,
was the oldest one in the bunch. I
secretly sang Hallelujah when I saw daylight streaming in from the other
side. Pedro was sitting on a rock
waiting for me at the side of a river with our horses. We continued to ride and ride and ride
through the jungle. My pelvic bones
hurt. I don’t think I’ve been on a horse
that long since my family rode down into the Grand Canyon or somewhere when I
was like 11.
I took umpteen photos, but none with the spectacular scenery
that Jack and Mary captured in January.
Enjoying a "Coco Loco" rum drink in the middle of nowhere.
Just after a swim in bathwater warm water in a little lake in the middle of nowhere.
Entering the caves.
Little Pedro and his big Cocoloco.
Walking in a sloppy trail full of muck through the Cuban jungle.
Walking THROUGH the mountain in that dark, skinny cave.
Within ½ hour of My Arrival I was On a Tour
We started this fiasco- um, I mean set of tours at 2 p.m.
and finished at 5:21. At 6 p.m. my taxi
still had not come. I was waiting in the
thatch-roofed cigar making hut, where all the farm/barn hands began to gather
after a long day’s work. The chief
horseman was given a free very high quality cigar by some African guy from
France and he was punchy with delight, dancing around singing off tune. A guy with a belly hanging down over his
unzipped zipper kept snorting. Everyone
slapped hands when they met. There was
only one woman there so I put her to work making a Pina Colada for me. One guy came back twice after he’d packed all
his cigar gear up- the first time to give me a free cigar, and the second to
give me three petite bananas, “fresh off the trees.” The head cigar roller ended up giving me a
ride home, back to Chino’s place.
An almost ripe coffee bean. They start green, turn yellow, then when red are HAND picked, because the government doesn't allow machines on its land.
Chino and his wife's place in the city of Vinales.
Pedro sitting on a rock waiting for me after I climbed through the cave through the mountain.
The Cocoloco bar in "The Valley of Silence."
Coming home to the horse barn after 2 hours in a saddle.
Close enough to touch a bull; they aren't so scary after all!
Yo Ho Ho and a Bottle of Rum (a day)
Some Europeans are staying in my house in another room. One of the guys explained to me that the four
of them “HAD” to drink a bottle of rum every day that they were in Cuba, so
they were out on the front porch doing that as I consumed my delicious dinner.
(Plantain chips, pineapple, bananas, mangos, green beans, avacados, lobster,
rice and bean soup with potatoes in
it.) You know the weight I told
you I was losing in Havana? Well you can
nix that!
The coffee tour guide showing me how to grind sugar cane. (Completely random skill, I thought!)
Lobster feast at Chinos for $12.
Downtown Vinales.
I finished my dinner at 8, edited my photos and now am
taking my aching pelvis to bed! Lol
