...the (October) sun in Cuba...oh oh oh

We finally made it to Cuba!

You may not know this but our entire worldwide expedition was born initially from a simple plan to travel to Cuba. But we found when we looked into the flight costs it was actually so pricy that we would instead just do a round the world trip, and save a little more cash for spending. A little, mmm...

So, clearly the Cuba segment of our trip was very important to us, and to do it justice we planned a full three weeks tiki touring to ensure we got in all the sights. Can you feel where I am going with this? Yes, sad but true, there was a mistake with our booking... (cue the frightful slap of the piano keys)! Sad to say it, our travel agent ruined this plan for us.

For reasons unknown he booked not one, not two but three flights out. Sounds awful handy doesn't it, the airline is our oyster and we can just hold seats willy nilly... well maybe thats how it goes in fairy land where the trees fruit gumdrops and rivers are made of chocolate, but not in the real world! You'd think a professional travel agent would know this! No again! Airlines don't take kindly to that sort of traffic choking carry on so instead of holding all three flights for him, they ended up cancelling two, which were the later ones, leaving only the flight one week after our arrival. Argh to say the least.

This left us with only a week to cover Cuba, the initial days of which we wasted lazily taking in Havana oblivious to our restraints. Once we had the word we only had time to head to Trinidad, the only other side of Cuba we saw before our speedy exit.

(end of rant)

And with a fake smile come grimace I move on...

Havana is a city brimming with life. Its true to all its stereotypes: Cigar toting little old men sit in huge doorways chatting the day away; women hang out the windows watching the street life like a soap opera; the wide spanish streets are adorned with classic and well mantained american cars, a vintage car lovers dream; huge, grand old buildings loom, cracking apart, most boarded up, but thankfully many are now in the process of restoration; all of which are smothered in roasting hot days and matching steamy nights, with live music filling the air day and night.

The first thing that struck me as we drove into Havana were the images of Che and Castro (oh and Cienfuegos...an equally famous revolutionary, lost in the past and suspicious plane crash) throught the city. Not just monuments but billboards and street graffiti. Next it was the roadside crowds of semi clad young locals exposing their best assets like peacocks in full display. The body confidence and sexuality of the people is to say the least, impressive.

It was an 80s time warp fashionwise. An example, women (and occasionally to my horror men too) of all ages and sizes, wore mid drift tops letting it all hang out. Seeing a 60 year old, rather obese woman cranking a fluorescent pink boob tube was not uncommon sight. But even stranger than this circus freak like sight were the seven year old girls who tore up their tees in imitation and tied them into bikinis. Maybe the time warp is yet another result of the trade embargo, its a worry otherwise!

They´re equally confident socially. Locals often approached us in the street to find out about our itinerary, genuinely interested in how long and where we´re going in Cuba. We´d feel guilty sometimes telling them our plans (prior to our flight problem), as we knew that we were going to see more of their country than they´d likely seen. They were extra warm when they found out we were NZers, and glad to hear we were staying in a ´casa particular´ (homestay) rather than a hotel for the real cuban experience and direct cash injection for the locals.

We enjoyed mojitos regularly (and can vouch that they are better in Wellington than Cuba) in street bars with locals on plastic chairs, and in regal colonial hotels with high columned decks and palm trees. Typically the latter when we needed a break from the intensity of the streets.

Like any other foreign city hanging out on the streets is great when you are feeling up to coping with the beggars , hustlers and tricksters. It´s the best way to get chatting with locals, to hear their stories and have a laugh, but can get taxing after a while. On top of the constant approach of beggars and street merchants, the barmen attempt to raise the prices up to 200% when the prices are clearly on a board infront of us, open beers for themselves and add them to our tab, and if you dont ask the price upfront you always recieve a ridiculously overstated bill in return. The saving grace is that local bars are fantastically cheap so is not too upsetting at the end.

We did give in to one of the hundreds of street cigar sellers that approached us, who sold us a few quality cigars for $1us each. He took us to a small local bar, apparantly that Hemmingway frequented, and while Andy smoked his cigar I attempted the salsa with the tout...and soon realised my two left feet. There is no bopping along to music in Cuba, from a young age they all learn to dance the proper steps. So its a 2 step by 3 step affair in which this little NZ girl that rejected jazzballet in her staunch tom boy years has no ability. (Note: on return to Wellington must do a salsa class and remedy second left foot).

Trinidad was a calm relief from Havana. It´s a roasting little UNESCO heritage town with (like many other places we've visited now) beautiful colonial Spanish architecture, painted every shade of the rainbow, cobble stoned streets, horses and carts, live alfresco music by night, beautiful little churches and best of all stunning white sand beaches.

It was a beautiful place to spend our final night in Cuba, watching several live bands and dancers perform a fantastic mix of cuban african styles, while sipping our mojitos. And the perfect place to spend our last morning swimming in the carribean again sipping our mojitos. Got to go back there again and see some more one day, unfortunately at this stage my return list is getting too big!

Guatemala - my little piece of Eden

Well, we have absolutely loved Guatemala and must say are sad to go. The craft markets, quaint cafes, suberb coffee, cracking pastel painted spanish architecture, historic mayan cities, delicious food, but far above all of that its the beautiful and rich environment and people that make it shine.

When the cab pulled up in Antigua on our first night I was awestruck when I looked across the street to see a huge ruined stone church, beautifully engraved with mayan detailing, a spacious courtyard with no roof but grass and epiphytes instead, lit magestically in the gloaming hour. Minutes later we came across a brass band in full kit striding down the cobblestone street blasting jingle bells merrily with locals jiving along beside it. From that moment I knew Guatemala was going to be one of my favourites.

The environment is unlike any I have seen before. One day we are in awe of the towering and perfect cone volcanoes around Lake Aititlan, the next watching spider monkeys show off in their natural environment and following that standing in Tikal, the ancient mayan city imagining the great civilisation that once inhabited these now ruins of grand proportions.

The best moment however for me, a moment I have fantasised about since I was a little girl, was holding a freshly hatched leatherback turtle in my hand moments before releasing it and hunderds of others into the sea. So small and fragile, only about 7cm long, with huge flippers and heads that their small frame can barely support out of the water. We were ridiculously lucky in Monterrico where every night we were there we saw hatchlings by the hundreds frantically flop thier way to the sea with the help of the turtle hatchery based on the beach.

The other huge piece of luck was the arrival of a 30 year old Ridleys Turtle on the beach near our hotel to lay her eggs one night. She layed a mere 98 eggs in half and hour then flip flopped her way back to sea. That was a beautiful and magestic sight, and a sight that gets rarer and rarer every year so meant the world to me.

On top of these natural experiences we have been treated to listening to howler monkeys bark and scream like sand people at the ruins of Tikal, watched and been watched back by pairs of toucan high in the trees, watched coatils 1m away rummage for food, saw floating buzzing hummingbirds feeding on nectar, and spied freshwater otters swimming in the mangroves. These we all saw in their natural habitats which is a rare experience in these times too.

The people of Guatemala are the icing on the cake or should I say the delicious guacamole on the soft taco! We have met some interesting locals who were good representations of the diversity here. Our guide in Tikal was an excellent and knowledgeable man of mayan history, classic and recent years of Guatemalan history. On top of the immense detail he described to us on the ruins, forests and ancient people of Tikal he told us about the recent civil war, which only ended 12 years ago and the huge impact it had on the people.

He described the sad truth of how the hilltribes were murdered, tortured and displaced, and of the horiffic lengths the government troops would go to to decipher whether they were linked to the rebels or not. As many of the tribes lived in isolation and were therefore innocent of the political turmoil going on in their country at the time many were not affiliated with either side, governement or rebel. This was a unacceptable fact for those fighting who then committed horrible torture on the people of these tribes to determine the truth.

This answered a question that had been plagueing me from my first full day here when a young girl with no hands asked me for money. After giving her some coins I turned to our friend who had been working here for a month or so and knew many of the locals stories. The word in tourist cirlces was that that her parents probably mutilated her to make her a more effective beggar... A spine chilling thought that had Andy and I reeling. But in light of our guides tales I think its more likely now that she was a victim of civil war torture in an effort to have her parents confess an affiliation.

It reminds me of the witch test from the dark ages where a woman would be thrown into a river to see if she floats, if she does, shes made of wood, is therefore a witch, and will be killed, and if she doesnt float? There are no right answers with these sorts of horrific acts. This was 12 years ago and like Cambodia the people I see each day, driving the bus, grazing thier cows on the side of the roads, slapping out hundreds of hot tortillias in the toritlliaria, delivering the mail, experienced this, and like cambodia are some of the warmest, freindliest people we have seen on our travels. I like to think they have a tight grip on what truly matters in life.

There is still a class hierachy here based on race, commonly pure guatemalans (mayans) at the bottom, half casts (typically with spanish) in the middle and the remaining spanish from the colonial days at the top. This changes however when you head toward the carribean where we met a local carribean negro who explained that there unfortunately another tier is added which is the ancestral negro community there that sit below the mayan in that part of the country. We looked around and realised he was right. All the staff were mayan, none negro, however contrary to the majority of people on the street were negro. he estimated the population there in livingston to be about 75% negro and 20% or so mayan. Another sad truth. This is interesting because my first thought was that this was due to their arrival as slaves but his ancestral line and that of many of the negro in Livingston are not there as a resut of the slave ships but have been there for thousands of years, like in cuba our next destination.

Despite all these realities the people dont wear it on their shoulders. They are some of the warmest and kindest people we have met on our travels, right up there with Cambodians. It was an absolute treat to travel here and I emplore you all to see it once. My shoes have melted from scorching lava, my ankles are coated in mosquito bites but my heart and soul are filled with the fantastic experience that is Guatemala.