Cuba day 3, final part – Crab Kicking, Fit Guys and Troubled Dreams

I’ve never kicked a crab before and in my defence, it was in the dark and it was an accident.  And there were so many of the critters.

It is late, dinner is over and we have just stood out on the grassy bank beside the open-sided terracotta-tiled bar looking at the Milky Way.  It is a vivid strip of speckled beauty pinned onto the velvet darkness of the night sky.  Everywhere you look you see stars.   

Hotel Villa Guajimico is 42 kilometres from Cienfuegos up first into the hills and then back down to the coast. From our vantage point on a bank which sits high above a clef cut deep into a cove, the moon trails a golden path of light across the sea. I smell jasmine on the evening breeze and everywhere the cicadas are playing their love songs, mad for a mate. 

The little villas that make up this place are built on a steep hill which makes me puff as I take the steps to number 46.  The porter who is behind me is doing the same climb but with three bags. I hasten to add, they were not all mine.  The door opens onto single beds and a large mirror mottled with age.  Its second-hand-shop meets the 1980s which is not a good style.  The small wooden table is chipped and the air-conditioning unit held together with tape.  But when I turn it on it creaks into life and exhales a confident stream of coolness.  I have no small change to tip the guy who carried my bags and who is standing expectantly in the doorway.  I convey to him, in faltering Spanish my predicament and ask him his name, telling him I will come and find him at dinner when I’ve changed some notes.  He leaves closing the door behind him and by the time I have opened my suitcase and begun to hang my clothes he is back, with change for various sizes of note.  The tip is clearly important and I double my normal rate because anyone that takes those steps with a large bag in each hand and a heavy case on their shoulder deserves a bit of credit.  He seems to leave happy.   The room depresses me and I sit on the bed for a moment, thinking of home.  I am very tired.  Tiles are missing in the shower and I have to fix the toilet before it will flush (I’ve fixed more toilets on travels than I care to think about, I also fixed one at the Design Centre in Islington at the Christmas Fair in 2008.  The upside is it meant I got to the front of a very long queue) but the water is warm and after I’ve freshened up I feel a bit more cheery.  Picking up my torch and phone I go out to explore. 

The early evening glooming is slowly rolling in from the sea and I make my way with careful steps along the narrow corrugated concrete paths that wind around the little villas and in the twilight strain to see the words on the signs which point you in the direction of various amenities.  The pool is in one direction, the restaurant in another, the bar in a different direction again.  Not wanting to spend too long in my room I am early for dinner by an hour so follow the sign to the swimming pool.  The place is strange with its tiny little dollhouse-type-villas and winding paths and scurrying sounds of the land crabs which overrun the place. But I try not to let the atmosphere perturb me and once I am on the terrace by the pool watching the sun go down I feel a little calmer.  Just me and a black and white cat who comes to join me, and we are there, me standing, the cat sitting on the balustrade, both of us  watching the waning glow of the sun, seemingly lost in our own thoughts.  At the bar a few minutes later I order a cold white wine and the barman laughs.  “Piña Colada” he says. I shrug and nod.  And while the mixer grinds and churns I stand out under the trees where the bats wheel and soar around me in the darkness. 

At dinner I order Cuban wine for the first time and others join me. It’s called Soroa Vino Blance de Mesa and it’s just about fine.  The food is just about fine.  On the way back to my room I have my crab-kicking-incident, not intentional as I said earlier.  I stand for a moment outside the door and take a last look at the night sky.  I lie on the bed a long time before sleep takes me, glad at least that the air-con is working.