“Gullibles Travels” in Cuba

Sunset in Cuba

Sunset in Cuba

I arrived in Cienfuegos on a Sunday. Taking a stylish 1950s taxi to town, my first stop was for money (how capitalist of me). To an ATM to be precise, so that I could withdraw CU (convertible dollars).

The typical Cuban car tourist photo

The typical Cuban car tourist photo

No luck… The machine kept the money and swallowed my credit card.

Let me digress a moment here to explain that tourist currency isn’t the same as local currency, and the CU purchasing power is a highly sought after commodity, even if it is not a necessity.

So much so that just about every scheme you can imagine (legal and otherwise), has evolved to obtain it. More on that later.

Feeling somewhat responsible for my evenings misadventure, my taxi driver promised to accompany me to the bank first thing in the morning.

Sorted!

Cienfuegos port, Cuba

Cienfuegos port, Cuba

Cashed up I spent the following day playing “tourist”, my taxi driver, “guide”. I offered to buy drinks, he offered to show me highlights of Cienfuegos, I bought lunch, he procured discount Cuban cigars (a must have souvenir).

All well an good.

I wandered all over town,

City centre, Cienfuegos

City centre, Cienfuegos

took some fabulous photos,

met the locals and

Cubana

A typical Cuban girl?

satisfied that I’d had a glimpse of the real Cuba, prepared to leave.

Che Guevara?

Che Guevara?

Four officials waited to board Eileen of Avoca the morning of my departure. Two made their way inside and rummaged around taking particular interest in sundry electronic devices such as mobile phones, memory sticks and cameras. I have a collection, many don’t work, but that did not deter them from suggesting they were gifts.

Fair enough, I had no real use for them.

I was amazed at how quickly and with what practised ease these items vanished into jacket pockets.

When asked if I had bought cigars, I retrieved the boxes my driver had procured and that’s when the excitement started…

Apparently they were counterfeit and must be confiscated!

Who would have thought that you can buy fake Cuban cigars in Cuba?

Is there some factory in China producing them on mass and somehow smuggling them into the country?

Well apparently they were imitation “brand name” cigars. I’d bought the Cuban equivalent of fake Dolce and Gabbana sunglasses or a made in China Prada handbag.

Maybe they need to update their welcome...

Maybe they need to update their welcome…

I was not overly concerned at this point, but unfortunately customs were not satisfied with their newly acquired electronic gifts and counterfeit cigars. For when I returned to Eileen I found that the last of my Cuban cash, a USB memory stick, and a fishing lure (of all things) had also mysteriously disappeared.

That the officials conducting the search were responsible, I have no doubt. They conveniently made me leave Eileen before they did. Presumably so I would not see what transpired. But after living aboard a 23ft boat for so many years I can’t help knowing where and what is in it…, intimately.

A poor show Mr Fidel!

In my travels, officials have occasionally hinted at gifts, but never before have they blatantly stolen items from my boat.

What time is it?

What time is it?

I would still go back to Cuba, but never again with my boat, for the following four reasons:

  1. There is little to offer a single handed yachtsman in the numerous southern cays. What fun is a deserted scrubby island (or hundreds for that matter), when you sail alone?

  2. It is illegal to invite a local aboard your yacht. There goes my social life!

  3. And horror of horrors, you are not allowed to catch the local lobster. This is by far the most difficult prohibition to live with given that their consumption could almost be used as an unofficial unit of time here. “How long will you be staying at this anchorage?”… “Oh, about three or four lobsters…”

  4. You already know the fourth reason.

The sanitised version of Cuba

Cayo Largo, Cuba

Cayo Largo, Cuba

I arrived in Cayo Largo (my first official stop) a week after my departure from Mexico. Threading my way trough the various islets (against wind and current), was not easy and on more than one occasion I came within centimetres of running aground.

Lessons learnt?

Don’t try any of the passes at night… Even if apparently well lit.

It was quite a relief to moor at a real marina for a few days because I was utterly exhausted (there is no sleeping when sailing within a mile of the coast) and my provisions, fuel and water were running low.

Marina Cayo Largo

Marina Cayo Largo

It must have shown, because by the time I had put the boat in some semblance of order (and gone through the check-in process), a local sailor and his wife came by to provide me with a hot meal, cold bear, basic provisions and a promise of fresh fish in the morning. Their generosity was overwhelming, and I have difficulty remembering an occasion when I enjoyed a meal as much as I did at that moment. Thank you again Liviana!

Cayo Largo is a pleasant stopover, but it is not the real Cuba, at least as far as I’m concerned. It is a resort island filled with tourists on all-inclusive holiday packages from Italy and Canada. There is nothing here other than resorts and their associated infrastructure. Not even the workers live here (most are from Isla de la Juventud). There is no doubt that the staff are good at their jobs… Everyone, everywhere, is so nice.

But my more cynical side suggests the catalyst for such efficacy is access to hard currency. But I’ll ignore that detail for the moment…

If you have a week or two to spare from your hectic work schedule and want a place to relax and recharge the proverbial batteries, then this is the place!

Service second to none. Well done!

If you want to see a more authentic and less sanitised version of Cuba, then you will probably want to sail on… which isn’t necessarily the best thing to do, but it is what I did.. regardless.

From Mexico to Cuba

My first stop in Cuba, Cayos de San Fielipe

My first stop in Cuba, Cayos de San Fielipe

It took 48 hours to cross the Yucatan Channel and arrive at the anchorage of Cayos de San Fielipe, and I only just made it before a dreaded northerly!

Paddling ashore I met with the three station guardians and asked whether it was OK to anchor here a while to shelter from the weather.

Not only was it fine, but I was immediately invited to share a meal, watch baseball on TV and converse. Quite a welcome and despite my rather elementary Spanish by late afternoon we were all fast friends.

The new group of island custodians arrive

The new group of island custodians arrive

The workers here are on ten day shifts and I happened to arrive on their last day. By morning the supply boat had arrived with the new crew and I went through the introductions a second time.

Only this time it seems my commodities and cash were the ones being openly welcomed to Cuba.

After the sincere generosity of the former station custodians, I was more than happy to hand over the few small items that the new crew requested: a lighter, some rope, cigarettes and coffee.

The next morning they visited Eileen by row-boat loaded with their catch of the day, offering what I thought would be a fair exchange for my previous handouts.

The good and the bad

The good and the bad

How naive… 10 US dollars later I was again on my way to Cayo Largo. My first contact with the locals having produced decidedly contrary feelings.

A Cuban Yin and Yang?

24 hours in Cozumel Mexico

Why is everyone heading the other way?

Why is everyone heading the other way?

At dawn, on the 10th of March, I found myself motoring through crystal clear waters off southern Cozumel, heading toward the small town of San Miguel.

Curiously, everyone else seemed to be going the other way!

As I watched, vessel after vessel, a seemingly endless procession, sped south.

What was going on?

Apparently nothing… or should I say “business as usual”…

Tourist activities galore!

Tourist activities galore!

On closer inspection all the boats were heavily laden with tourists preparing to partake in various activities including snorkelling, para-sailing, scuba diving or whatever else is the latest in seaside resort entertainment.

Even a submarine?

Even a submarine?

There were so many water craft, it felt like the start of some huge regatta.

Where did all these people come from?

Just two of the four cruise ships visiting Cozumel

Just two of the four cruise ships that were visiting Cozumel

There were literally shiploads of them. Mostly from the US… All I could compare it with was Aruba, but an Aruba on steroids!

The town was similarly awash with visitors, shopping for all those must have tourist accoutrements. One dollar maracas, bracelets with your name woven into the design, 6 T-shirts for 20 US…

OK, not my cup of tea perhaps… and no prejudicial jumping to conclusions. This could be fun… I’ll just sit down, relax, have an ice cold corona and check the weather forecast.

Boats at anchor off San Miguel

Boats at anchor off San Miguel

Strong northerlies descend upon the Yucatan Channel at this time of year and unfortunately the anchorage off San Miguel is very exposed. While a sailor could probably find shelter to the south of the cruise ship terminals many prefer to make a run for Isla Mujeres (approximately 40NM further north).

This was not an option for me, as my next destination was Cuba and I had every intention of getting there with a complimentary current.

If I intended to escape the uncomfortable northerly and take advantage of the closing weather window to Cuba, I had just 24 hours to visit Mexico.

Unlike Honduras where check in and out are a breeze, Cozumel’s procedures can politely be called challenging.

Despite what you may have read elsewhere, here’s the latest on what is required.

  • Visit the port captains office and fill in their arrival form;
  • Catch a cab to the airport (50 pesos) to see (in this order)
  • Immigration (306 pesos),
  • Customs (free),
  • The office of Agriculture (to confiscate your fruit).

Let me diverge at this point and explain that some cruisers try to give the last two a miss by only visiting the immigration office in town. But do you really want to risk being on the wrong side of Mexican law?

A temporary stop at the ferry terminal

A temporary stop at the ferry terminal

Besides, as happened in my case, both Customs and the Office of Agriculture might be rather keen to visit your boat. Kindly giving me a lift back to the port, I brought Eileen alongside the ferry terminal so they could carry out their inspection.

Everyone was rather chuffed about the whole affair.

  • Then it was off to the hospital for my obligatory health stamp (even if nobody checked my health),
  • and finally back to the port captains office to return the forms and finalise check-in.

There is slightly less running around for checking-out.

  • Be sure to provide a crew list, a copy of your registration papers, and the stub of your immigration entry form for the office in town,
  • go to the bank and pay another 471 pesos to the Secretaria de Communicaciones y Trasportes,
  • and collect your Zarpe at the port captains office.

Why it took an hour (upon producing the requested documentation at immigration), to just have a stamp placed in my passport is a mystery I prefer not to dwell upon.

At my age you start worrying about your blood pressure.

Only results matter. I had officially checked in and out, even if it took most of the time I was in Cozumel to do it. What more could I want?

Mickey Mouse arrangements for cruisers

Mickey Mouse arrangements for cruisers

I suspect it might be a bit easier for cruise ship passengers to stopover for 24 hours than it is for cruisers… or there wouldn’t be so many of them…

Drifters and Grifters

Commercial dock at Guanaja

Commercial dock at Guanaja

Tied to the commercial dock at Guanaja I was immediately overwhelmed by the islanders hospitality. All these people ready to tell me where I had to go…. and willing to take me there in person. 😉

In no time at all I even had someone whisk my catch of the day away (a fine barracuda),[Having duly ticked the “Fisherman’s tall tale” box from my “routine” passage], clean it, and return a minuscule portion for my own consumption. Hmmm…

Can’t blame the fellow. He’s just trying to make a living, and there is always an abundance of people doing just that…

whatever it takes…,

just to make a living.

As I wasn’t so sure I could eat the barracuda given the prevalence of ciguatera in the region, I considered it a fair trade.

Taking a tour of Guanaja, Honduras

Taking a tour of Guanaja, Honduras

This sort of thing irks some visitors (the hawkers that is, not the ciguatera), who then choose to anchor well away from the town’s action. Action is however, just what I have in mind after five days at sea…, so what better way than to recruit one of the locals to show me where to find it?

Ignoring the pushy types, I came across a fellow inclined to wile away a few hours in conversation. As I was buying, I was entitled to the grand tour of the town with running commentary on current local gossip, the best places to eat, shop and drink. As a bonus, my self-elected bodyguard kept any unsavoury types at bay. Like a lion tamer with a plastic chair… I kid you not!

A camera shy bar maid at

A camera shy bar maid at ANTRO Bar & Lounge

All so I could concentrate on indulging in the delights of Guaraja. Which pretty much amounts to drinking the local rum with Sprite to excess while shamelessly flattering the bar-maids at ANTRO Bar & Lounge, Guanaja Bay Island (you will find that on Facebook). What else is a sailor to do?

It was all in good fun…

My self proclaimed friend, enriched by a small token of my entertainment funds (a loan he insisted), was also having a ball. Good for him! In return I had an unexpectedly fascinating insight into his life, a life of adventure that stretched even my naive credibility…

He had certainly had had his share of ups and downs (don’t we all?). But in his case, the ups were based on vast fortunes made semi-illicitly and the downs when that easy money was foolishly squandered. What did he have to show for his years playing reckless “bad boy”?

Apparently half a dozen children fathered by different women (the latest a third his age). But not much else.

Hmm….

Well that’s his rendition of the story anyway… and who is to say how much of it was the rum talking… You should hear some of the tales I tell when inebriated. It’s when I do my best blog writing!!!

Evidently, it isn’t easy making a living in Guanaja. It takes a bit of luck and plenty of nous to be a success here, so I don’t begrudge my guides rendition of the tourist grift, “can you loan me another 400? (local currency of course)”.

“Sure! Why not?”

Guide, bodyguard and bone necklace...

Guide, bodyguard and bone necklace…

While he was unable to repay his small loan before my departure (no great surprise there), he did leave me a with a good story and an unexpectedly fine souvenir in exchange.

Behold!

A slow routine sail to Honduras

Arriving at Guanaja, Honduras

Arriving at Guanaja, Honduras

After ten days in San Andres, it was time to make the next little hop on my clockwise tour of the Caribbean. If five days at sea and 400 nautical miles can be called a “little hop”. It’s all relative (so they say).

At this point in my wanderings, days at sea are just part of the general sailing routine. Not that I don’t enjoy routine, in fact I’m rather fond of it.

There is comfort in the predictability of routine.

Plus it’s easy to describe.

And this ladies and gents, is the route I took...

And this ladies and gents, is the route I took…

To the point that I need not even go into detail but merely state that the latest passage to Honduras was a “routine run”.

Most sailors I know will agree that any extended solo passage that might be loosely termed “routine”, will be made up of several obligatory elements including at least one;

  • Cetacean visitation,
  • Avian visitation,
  • Rare celestial observation,
  • Close encounter with a commercial craft, (of the cargo kind)
  • Fisherman’s tall tale of “the one that did (or didn’t) get away” to recount to landlubbers,
  • Tantrum,
  • Sundry gear failure with ad-hock work-around (later described as ingenious repair), due to general “wear and tear” on the boat. Also the cause of the aforementioned tantrum.

And that’s it!

For better or for worse, I’ve missed out on all the social drama of crewed passages.

The importance of being “Nobody”

On my way to San Andres, Colombia

On my way to San Andres, Colombia

Another five days of monotonous routine and solitary introspection at sea. No matter, the excitement can always wait until after I have set my anchor.

Though it does make me wonder how other crews manage similar voyages. If a couple, I don’t suppose it makes much difference. One is on watch while the other sleeps. I guess you need at least three to make passage making a sociable event, otherwise it’s inevitable there will be long hours of solitude.

I wonder whether too much of this is healthy.

Fortunately, in San Andres, there were plenty of opportunities to socialise.

Nene's Marina certainly has character.

Nene’s Marina certainly has character.

My first impressions were positive. How could they have been otherwise when the first words directed at me (in English), as I anchored off Nene’s Marina were; “I admire you”.

That from the captain of a motor launch slowing for a closer look at Eileen.

I must say, being seen on a Yarmouth23 certainly does have its advantages. Too bad I can’t take her with me everywhere and prolong the admiration. All too soon I’m relegated the to the lofty status of “Mr Nobody” from the moment I step ashore.

Or even before I step ashore, given that I have to paddle there on my humble kayak.

Which, come to think of it, is just the way I want it to be.

Being nobody I get to:

Life is a beach in San Andres

Life is a beach in San Andres

Unobtrusively take photos of fellow nobody’s at the beach;

Wandering about town...

Wandering about town…

or in town for that matter.

I onlly went there looking for Aguila girls!

I only went there looking for Aguila girls!

Be proverbially growled at for sitting too close to the supposedly reserved VIP section of the bar in this establishment (where only the “beautiful people” are supposed to party).

Don't even contemplate it buddy!

Don’t even contemplate it buddy!

Be literally growled at for wanting to sit too close to the section of the wall reserved for dexterous local fauna…

I'm busy.... Doing nothing...

I’m busy…. Doing nothing…

Do nothing… other than sit and patiently wait out the bad weather…. (growling).

My conclusion?

A pleasant stopover. Somewhat bureaucratic (especially for sailors), with a distinct social dichotomy between tourists and locals. But is that not the norm?

I’d have only seen the one side (guess which), had I not chanced upon a resident sailor who took it upon himself to show me the “real” San Andres.

And where is this real San Andres?

All over… It’s where you get to enjoy good company, good food, good wine, and great music, without having to call for “la cuenta por favor” before you leave.

With a little help I was able to see the real San Andres

With a little help I was able to see the real San Andres

It’s in the houses and homes… not the hotels.

A rare privilege indeed Damien.

Thanks!

 

Sailors, Prostitutes and Backpackers!

Cafe del Mar Cartagena and the historic centre.

Cafe del Mar Cartagena and the historic centre.

My visit to Cartagena was a disappointment. Not that it wasn’t interesting. Wandering about the historic sections of the city kept me busy for hours and it certainly can’t be said that the town isn’t photogenic.

My disappointment stems from the fact that Cartagena is a rather popular tourist destination, and all that that implies;

  • The fake landaus, (I say fake because there is nothing remotely traditional in their construction)
  • The price hikes, (my reference being Santa Marta)
  • The hawkers, (“Hello my friend, where are you from?”)
  • The prostitutes, (supposedly representing 50% of the local females in the old town after dark). Don’t believe me? Here’s the reference.
  • and the way everything is neatly geared to maximise the extraction of hard currency from short term visitors.

Dare I say that it’s just another tourist trap? Yes…

It isn't over until the fat lady.....

It isn’t over until the fat lady…..

In Cartagena’s defence though, it certainly can not be said that this is the only city where the above criticisms hold true.

It didn’t help that the marina (Club Nautico) is currently a construction site offering little more than a secure place to leave your dinghy at a premium price. I’m told it should all be completed by July so don’t let that small detail deter you.

Of the visitors there seemed to be two main types;

The older wealthier version making use of the up-market hotels, and the youthful backpacker occupying the small inexpensive hostels on the old towns perimeter.

I’ll leave out the yachting community for the moment.

And I’ll say nothing more of the secret service 😉

The other side of town...

The other side of town…

I was surprised to see so many backpackers! I’d thought them extinct. At least they appear to be a dying breed in Europe, (having been replaced by the wheely bag generation and the ever present trustafarians), but no…, backpackers are alive and well…, it’s just that they have changed continent.

Backpackers do what they have always done… Drink and hang around meeting other backpackers in what (to my eyes at least), is the grittier, but infinitely more interesting parts of town. But what’s a trustafarian I hear you ask?

Cartagena street art

Cartagena street art

That would be the neo-hippy white wantobe rastafarian with a trust fund. A growing phenomenon in the Caribbean and abroad. I could almost be one, except I don’t usually hitch-hike across borders these days, have the prerequisite passion for reggae music, the dreadlocks, the weed habit, the tubular cotton bracelet rack displaying my wares for sale, the musical instrument, the juggling apparatus, or the all important “trust fund” waiting for me back home.

For what it’s worth though, I do have hairy legs…! Harrumph… 😉

These tourists are the “bread and butter” for yachtsmen making Cartagena their home away from home. I was amazed by the number of yachts offering passage to budget travellers to or from Panama. At between $300 and $500 US per person for a one way trip, and yachts large enough to accommodate up to 25 passengers, you can see why many captains linger here.

You can also see why I wouldn’t…

Enough said…

Green grass and the sailing game

Are the girls prettier in Colombia? ;)

Are the girls prettier in Colombia? 😉

At sea there is plenty of time to think, which is good because I’m not necessarily speedy when it comes to thinking (too many late night rum sessions). By claiming to be the mulling sophist type, I get away with it, and besides, what’s the rush?
It helps pass the time.
What else is there to do if I’m denied the dubious pleasures of catching up on the latest  TV soap, posting facebook updates, or continuously texting friends whilst at sea?
A blessing in disguise?

So…, what do I spend all that time thinking about?
Two infuriatingly innocuous words “What” and “Next”, usually in that order…
What next indeed!

I set out on my sailing adventures to spend some time doing what I needed doing most at the time. Playing with my boat.
Sounds decadently selfish doesn’t it? And I agree that it is…, in part….
But in my case it was also the best course to take to alter what was becoming a monotonous and unrewarding lifestyle, despite the level of monetary compensation.
Some have labelled my decision as irresponsible, even “evasionist”.
But that’s not true. I had actually lost my job, or rather, I was no longer being paid by my intermediary.  They’d gone bankrupt along with the banks, as the finance industry underwent  its so called “corrections” in 2009 [You guys still owe me… big time!].
So in a sense, the decision was forced upon me.
I just interpreted it as a signal for radical change. Time to start with a new game. The sailing game…
And now it’s 2014 and I ask myself… How long should the sailing game continue?

For many sailors the answer is, as long as possible… and currently stands at decades!
Is that what I intend to do? Spend the next twenty plus years sailing around in my 23 foot boat?
It is true that for me there has never been any lack of motivation for continuing my wanderings. Mainly to answer the question of whether the grass is greener on the other side of the fence.
Having crossed to the other side of that proverbial fence numerous times in my trusty vessel, the answer (for many destinations), can often be concluded with a simple yes or no.
However, having leapt across one fence, inevitably another teasingly presents itself. Ah, the conundrum! “Is it better over there?”
“Perhaps….”
“Let’s go have a look shall we?”

Unfortunately, having someone else decide for me isn’t an option. Opinions are subjective by definition and a matter of taste. Your own taste.
Whether constantly succumbing to insatiable curiosity stems from an inherent flaw in my character is a moot point. The fact is that I’m still sailing from place to place and have little intention of stopping, while others have happily completed their journeys.
This, in spite of my ongoing projects… (though I’ll admit that they are sure to have a moderating effect).

A kind of madness?
Apparently not. I checked…
Did I not tell you that the “Aguila Light” girls of Santa Marta were psychologists by profession and that after much libation… I mean deliberation, they gave me a clear bill of mental health… to accompany my hangover.? 🙂
Well they did,

and so… for now, the game continues…