Sunday 18 December 2011

IN SEARCH OF A REVOLUTION 5

The following day on the way to the Viñales valley, west of Havana in the Pinar del Rio province, the bus pulled up at a cigar factory. The guide leaned out of the bus and spoke to the security guard who shook his head. The bus moved on.
      'I'm sorry, but the factory's shut,' Ainsley said.'There's been a power cut and the workers have been sent home. . .  Welcome to Cuba, my friends.'
       'But we need compensation,' one of the family piped up.
       'Compensation? Ah! I'll see what I can do,' Ainsley laughed. 'But don't worry, you will see a cigar factory, I promise.
      Ainsley had talked non-stop for the three hours or so it took to get to Viñales. He told us more about Cuba and it's history as we drove through the striking landscape.  If he caught somebody snoozing he'd call out their name in a half-joking tone and ask them to remove their sunglasses. He pointed out places of interest that we could see and some we never got to see because he was worried about hotels over-booking. Our mission each day was to get to the next hotel before any other tour party, learn as much as we could from him about Cuba, and have fun. I couldn't get enough.
       The roads were deserted of traffic through most of our journey through Cuba. Imagine being the only vehicle on the M4 for several miles on a week day in December? People stand by the side of the road at designated places to hitch a lift from a government truck or private car. Although there is an inter-city bus service for the tourist and better off, local buses are few and far between and are like cattle trucks. A hundred or so local people cram, standing, a few sitting, suffocating in the heat with just a grill  to let air in.
       We drove on. Boulder like hills formed some 160million years ago by rain and erosion and covered in vegetation, known as 'mogotes' are similar to the limestone hillocks you see in China and Vietnam and loom out of the valley floor giving an ancient and eerie feeling.  Ainsley pointed out tobacco plantations and other crops. He told us that there's little incentive to work the tobacco now. 90% of the crop yield goes to the government, leaving 10% for the farmer.
       'You will visit a tobacco farm tomorrow, he said, as he went round the bus with plastic cups, pouring from a bottle of rum. 'In the meantime, here's the compensation.'
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