8/23/15,
“The Lord’s Day”
Cabo Cruz,
Cuba (Desembarco de Granma National Park)
While
yesterday was the Jewish Sabbath, today, in Catholicism, is the Lord’s
Day. I expected most of the island to be
shut down, as I have experienced spending many Sundays in the Caribbean and
Central America, even a couple of Easter Sundays. A few places were closed, but the island was
as bustling as it was yesterday. It
further supports my observations that Cuba does it not as deeply influenced by
religion as other islands in the Caribbean are.
Is this a result of communism?
Most communist countries do not have traditional religions. Atheism was the state religion of Soviet
Russia, and Red China does not have much in the way of religion, either. Is Cuba starting to follow suit? Surely Fidel’s revolution, which began in
this very spot, where he disembarked (hence the name of the NP), was not
motivated by religion. It was motivated
by his desire to be free from American influence. It had nothing to do with gold, God, or glory. It was about freedom, or so he claimed. What happened next is a different story.
As for this story, I have barely done
anything, but the past 9 hours (has it really been that long), seem like a busy
blur. I overslept a little, raced to get
ready and have a disappointing breakfast, and we hit the road, soon arriving at
Holguin, where we picked up a modern car.
We were going to get cigars there, too, but that was a fail. I paid a large sum for the rental car, in
cash, but that served as most of my fee for the entirety of the trip, since I
no longer had to pay for the use of Ernesto’s old Chevy. I got some rum and snacks at the liquor
store, having to wait too long on line.
Is this how people spend the Lord’s Day?
Grocery shopping? I thought
everyone would still be in church at 11 AM.
We then went to Ernesto’s house, well his girlfriend’s house, where I
waited while he showered and his “mother-in-law” made us coffee. We were soon on the road, and I was ready to
start the trip anew with a new car. I
lit up a Davidoff Escurio, rolled down the window, and blared the Red
album. With the familiar sound of “State
of Grace,” I was ready. I felt ready to
take on the world. That’s exactly what
we did.
Three hours later, we stopped
for lunch in Manzanillo, a process that somehow took an hour, but meals in this
region are always slow. I got fried
plantains and fried chicken, along with a beer.
It was delicious. I lit up a a
Cabaiguan, and, another hour later, we saw the entrance sign for the National
Park, where I lit up another El Credito.
The inscription photo showed a waterfall, and we soon learned the
waterfall was on the opposite end of the park, but the page talked about rocky
cliffs in Cabo Cruz.
We soon found those
rocky cliffs. I have seen lots of
waterfalls, but I have never quite seen rocky cliffs like this, with this kind
of coloration. We took some ceremonial
pictures and headed to the beach, where I enjoyed the views of the cliff and
proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so that we can finish up
in the park and make our way to the hotel in Camaguey, where my friend awaits
us.
Camaguey,
Cuba
Well, here
we are in famous, historic Camaguey. I
am in a plaza next to my hotel, smoking an El Credito, writing my entry, much
like last night. I am in view of the
main church of Camaguey, which forms the inscription photo for the WHS. I actually don’t have much to write, which is
just as well, since we went to enjoy our time in Camaguey and get to bed early
tonight. I am in one of the biggest
cities of Cuba, and I can see stars looking up.
Trying do that in Chicago or Seattle.
I truly feel like I have been transported to another era. If I was not again being accosted by beggars,
it would the perfect scene, though our new friend is doing her best to chase
them away. It is quite an interesting
scene, and it is clear that they are no longer celebrating the Lord’s Day.
After I closed, we headed to a spot where I
was able to take a few more pictures of the rocky coast and made it Official,
announcing “Day 2 Complete.” I then
fished in my pocket for my largest banknote to offer to my driver as a bonus
tip for all the driving of past two days.
We headed to the monument of the disembarkation point, and I asked my
driver about Castro’s religion. His
answered further confirmed what I had been observing. Fidel and Raul were raised Catholic, but,
after the revolution, they no longer practiced their religion, though the new
Pope is attempting to bring them back to the fold.
When we got back in the car, I figured we
could be at the hotel around 9 PM, and I handed him the tip. At first he was confused, but I explained it
was a bonus for him for all the extra driving, in addition to the regular
fees. He was very grateful. We stopped for gas, and I lit up a My Father
when I switched to the Taylor Swift (2006) album. When I bought cigars for the trip, everyone
made fun of me, saying I was going to Cuba, implying that it was like bringing
coal to Newcastle. Well, other than the
El Credito cigars, I have not found any cigars I trusted.
We soon stopped for coffee and then drove
straight through to the hotel. My hotel
was in the heart of downtown Camaguey, and my room even had a view of the very
church from the inscription photo. I
insisted that Ernesto join us for dinner at my treat. I checked in, but it turned out my friend had
already gone up to the room. Wait, why
did they allow that? His name wasn’t on
the reservation. I was actually a little
upset they were so lax with security. We
went up to the room, but the key wouldn’t work.
I tried knocking on the door.
They tried a new key. Apparently
the magnetic card reader was broken.
They brought the physical master key and let me in, telling me to come
down after dinner to get a new key. My
friend’s stuff was in the room, but he was nowhere to be found. I settled in and left him a note.
We then went up to dinner. Dinner was a buffet, and I opted for a table
by the window, with a view of the city, including the church. They had all sorts of traditional items, such
as fish, plantain chips, chicken, and a beef or pork stew. I got a Cristal beer to go with it. My friend was still nowhere to be found. Ernesto asked him if I was done with his
services for the night. We agreed we’d
meet at 9 AM tomorrow morning. I headed
down to get a new key, and my friend showed up, quite obviously toasted and
handed me some rum. It was an
outrageously cheap price for a half-size bottle of good quality rum.
One of the hotel staff was to accompany us to
the room to make sure we could it, and Sokol made fast friends with her,
insisting she take a swig of the rum. We
headed up to the room, and the magnetic keys were still not working, so she
gave us the master key. We talked about
our days, and my friend made me a Cuba Libre.
We were both pretty toasted at this point. I poured myself a shot from my 7-year rum,
and my friend was done drinking for the night.
We headed out to the plaza and found a table, where I proceeded to write
this entry. We lit up a couple of El
Credito cigars and were soon approached by a very old-looking woman, whom my
friend, for some reason, invited to sit down with us. She was an interesting character. She asked for water, but I was not about to
let her drink from my water bottle. I
handed my friend a banknote, asking my friend to go find some water. She then said she hadn’t eaten in two days
and asked for money for food. I felt a
little sorry for her, but I have strict policy against giving money to
beggars. However, this was different,
her company for the time being was providing entertainment value, and she even
tried to chase away some more aggressive beggars.
When my friend handed me the change, I gave
her the larger of the banknotes, definitely enough for her to get some
food. We were wondering how old she
was. He thought she was a hundred. I guessed ninety. We asked her.
She didn’t speak a word of English, so we were talking about her right
in front of her in English, which I suppose wasn’t exactly polite, while
conversing with her in broken Spanish.
“Cuantos años tienes?” “Cinquenta
y seis.” No, I must be
mistranslating. She could not possibly
be 56. She was. My mother is older. She looked at least thirty years older than
my mother, maybe forty years older.
My
friend told me about the Wi-Fi card, but I’ve decided against it. I’ll be off the grid until I get back to
Miami. It truly feels like we are out of
different era here. If it were not for
the chirp of the phone of the person sitting at the table next to us, I would
feel like we are still in the 1960s. On
that note, I’ll close so that we can head up to the room and get to sleep.
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