[Firstly, internet and electricity are not all that easy as I write this, so blog updates may be a little sporadic…]

The couple of days I spent in Havana after landing on the island, was all a bit of a blur and I will be returning there for almost a week at the end, so I’ll roll the reporting of those days into my Havana musings later.

My whole Cuba planning has revolved around the ‘tourist’ long distance bus destinations and timetables. It’s been quite a feat of planning and rather more restrictive than I would like. The busses need to be booked well in advance to guarantee a seat. They don’t necessarily run on time. Or run. There are about 2 or 3 a day. You have to be at the bus station an hour and a half before departure time to check-in and they don’t always arrive and depart at a sensible hour. So far, so painful. For someone who loves the freedom that jumping on a motorbike provides it’s a tough ask. However, I have promised myself not to get wound up or complain about stupid uncontrollable stuff. Part of this trip is a test of my own self-control. Improvise, adapt, overcome. I have chosen to do these things, not because they are easy but because they are hard (..or some other cliché along those lines).

Spilling off the 5 hour bus journey into Santa Clara at 10 o’clock at night, in a blackout, with no internet or phone signal was a little surreal. I had contemplated walking the 40 minutes to my accommodation.. I do have a mapping app on my phone that doesn’t need a signal.. but in my last communications with my Air B and B host they advised against walking. So I pick one of the 5 taxi drivers hustling for my business and we’re off., the “taxi” in this case turns out to be an electric tuk tuk, pick-up style with me in the back. As we hurtle down pitch black streets he regularly honks to scare off the locals we can barely make out stepping across the narrow steets. I’m bouncing around in the back as we hit every pothole and bump in the road (there are lots). I look down at his LED dash and I feel like I’m in some dystopic Bladerunner, the-future-is-the-past, video game. We’re there in no time and he jumps out to hammer on the door to summon the hosts.

I’ve only booked 2 nights in Santa Clara, just to make the coach journeys less than double figures in hours, and it’s not really safe to have a coach booked the following day. If I were to miss that through cancellation or whatever, it could put all the other journeys (7 of them) in jeopardy. So I’ve played safe and made sure to stay at least. 2 nights in every stop.

The following day I mooch about to get a feel for the place. It’s very different to Havana (unsurprisingly), and whereas I couldn’t walk 10m in Havana without being hassled, I’m refreshingly ignored here. I checkout a local tourist attraction. It’s a tractor. Well, not exactly a tractor., a machine with caterpillar tracks and a flat blade at the front (do they have a name?). It sits proudly on its plinth at the exact spot where it became famous. It’s on the site of a crucial victory for the Cuban revolution. Che Guevara led a band of about 50 people (women fight too) against a larger contingent of state forces assigned to hold the city from the advancing rebels. An armoured supply train full of troops and weapons to re-enforce the garrison arrived at the train station when the rebels attacked. One of them used the tractor to rip up the train lines and the train derailed. After a short battle, all of the government forces surrendered. When learning of this loss, the fascist dictator President Batista saw the writing on the wall and fled the country.

One thing I noticed about Santa Clara is that it’s the first city I’ve been to that uses horse drawn carts for actual commuter transport. Another thing I notice are the queues in the street at certain locations, maybe at banks, maybe at “shops”, maybe at government offices. An unfortunate side-effect of all advertising being banned in the country (yay!) is that shops don’t even have signs, or windows that you can see through to determine what’s actually inside. It’s a mystery to me.

I was also lucky enough to get my first taste of genuine live Cuban music. Some amazing tunes were drifting out from a cultural centre on the main square. I ventured in and heard a first rate band rehearsing. The place started to fill with some teenagers and at a given moment they lined up to practice their amazing dance routine to the live music. Cuba certainly has its problems but its reputation for unequalled culture and arts looks well deserved!

Later in the evening, as I try out a few bars, I realise that my initial relief at being ignored and not hassled has an unfortunate flipside. No one can be bothered to talk to me. OK, OK, I’m not everyone’s cup of tea, but if you’ve been reading this blog you’ll know that I often manage to strike up a conversation with some interesting locals. Not so in Santa Clara, it’s a worrying sign. Even the bar staff can’t be bothered to feign a smidgen of interest as I sit at the bar, and they’re paid for that shit! It’s a worrying sign which I hope doesn’t continue through Cuba.

My bus the following day is at 5am, which means I have to be at the bus station at 3:30 to check-in (why oh why?) Which means I need my Bladerunner tuk tuk at 3: 15am. Kindly the driver had previously given me his number and he’s promised to be there. Thankfully he is and I’m off to Holguin on time.