The Glorified Gypsy
The travel writings of a vagabundo
With Lafonda senior away, we shortly learned the important role she played during our frequent visits. She was the gatekeeper. The matriarch. Crucially, she also kept the rest of the family at bay from our belongings... Now that Lafonda senior wasn’t here, and with post-Covid Cuba a wasteland, Pablito and Edmundo sensed riches.
We were at their mercy.
Read MoreCuba’s health care is famously free for its locals. Foreigners, meanwhile, must visit the foreigners only hospitals. The difference is not only price. Similar to how London cleared out the riff-raff in the West End prior to the Olympics, the mirage of Cuba’s mythologised health system shines through in the foreigner-only hospitals, where, although having to pay, the facilities are modern. Johnny America can leave after two-days in a diabetic coma and assume all Cuban hospitals and medical centres are as well equipped. Alternatively, however, Cubans may not have to pay out some pesos for their care, but neither will they have up-to-date equipment, or medicines for that matter. It’s all smoke and mirrors.
Read MoreWith no plan other than a desire to climb something, we decided over a breakfast of huevos revueltos y fruits that we’d just drive until we saw a mountain we liked. From the veranda of Casa Anita - our casa particular located two-kilometres south-west of Viñales town centre - we had sweeping views of the valley. We were adamant, however, that we’d steer clear of the area around the Mural de la Prehistoria known as los Dos Hermanas, for while it is undoubtably beautiful we had no desire to scale a mountain only to glimpse the mural in the distance. This meant we had to drive several kilometres north of Viñales town centre, out into the rolling farmlands, surrounded by the impressive mogotes which typify the Viñales Valley rock formations.
Read MoreA couple of days later we stop for a bite to eat at a restaurant on the northern end of Plaza Vieja. I’ve spent the morning practicing my spiel, much to the annoyance of Lafonda, and so am ready to initiate a deal. In no way am I nervous about my engaging in el mercado negro so Lafonda’s mocking of me does not perturb me one bit. Instead, I lean back cooly on the chair and lower the peak on my cap, scanning nonchalantly around the plaza from behind my mirrored Aviators as though absolutely nothing untoward were on my mind.
Read MoreFor the umpteenth time on our Cuban cocktail quest, Chad Jnr. is asking a barman for a pineapple and the withering look he receives in response is, understandably, deserved. While friendly and hospitable people, Cubans do not suffer idiots well.
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