Life - like the ocean - is so awesome and beautiful to look at and swim in.
Yet, once deep enough, so easy to sink, fill yourself up and drown.
-Lauri G-



Map: ©Microsoft Encarta World Atlas


Oh, sorry. The rest of the year was supposed to be dedicated to Joseph Conrad. Here's one:
Perhaps life is just that... a dream and a fear.
- Joseph Conrad -






A healthy breakfast? One of the luxuries is toast and fried eggs with cold juice from the fridge. Getting ready to pull anchor from Santa Cruz Curacao. The sea outside is foaming white and I need all the strength to go out there. At the end it wasn't as bad as we thought...


Too much, too quickly, too hard

Mandatory off-subject intro

I'm a people-pleaser. I'm not always on this planet. I'm sometimes insecure, sometimes too cocky, usually the healthy in between. I'm always open and continuously in awe of the world around me. I'm often naive, my thoughts and ideas sometimes obscure. I have some in-built guilt of being too lucky and having too much, like I owe a lot to the world. And I do. I have.

I often feel strongly about the injustices in the world and unfortunately I often feel guilty about being born in a world of more opportunities than the people that I meet in my travels. I didn't acquire the ability to travel the world because I'm exceptionally smart or clever. I have worked very hard and sacrificed a lot for living my dream but the point is that I had the opportunity to work, opportunity to make those sacrifices and the freedom to make the choices I have made. I am a very fortunate man and I do my very best to remember that. (I tend to whine a lot, you see...) This had nothing to do with Cuba. Just thought I share that with you.




Tip of the day: If your pizza is stuck to the baking paper, just use scissors and eat the paper too. You'll be surprised how easily it digests!


Too much is a lot. Cuba was too much of a good thing and too much of an experience. It made me hope that I could experience life lightly and casually, not thinking about it too much. You know, walking into a town of ½ million people and being taken to someone's home for coffee and biscuits, dancing... well, having locals doing their best to teach you how to dance and raving about their country, their (free) education, their (free) health care and their freedom (spirits) is an experience hard to explain. I wish I could just do that without being overwhelmed by the warmth of total strangers. It's very naive to even think that I would be able to explain or write about a country with a past - present - future as complex as Cuba. So I'll go back to describing MY experience. That's all I can do. I'll do just that.


The weather had turned more tropical with many towering thunderstorms and generally lots more convection than before. We were saved from them all and managed a beautiful - though a little wild - sail the whole way. (Picture is from just off Haiti after the wind died)


Curacao to Cuba, 600 Nm

The sail from Curacao was supposed to be rough and we were a tad nervous about departing. But we had to go. Ok, I felt that we had to go. It turned out to be a little wet and wild but the wind just behind the beam and reaching 25 kn at times actually made it perfect sailing...for those who love sailing. For us it was the best possible pain in the ass". You know? The kind of pain in the ass that...oh, I better not continue.

Anyway, the trip was fantastic because we made excellent speed, which means that we will be in a new port again sooner rather than later. It was good because it was rough enough get the feeling of actually making an effort but still easy and fast. As expected, the wind died between Hispaniola and Jamaica, forcing us to motor for some time until we got a slow sail in flat seas towards Santiago de Cuba, some 40 miles west of Guantanamo Bay.


A view from an old Spanish fort at the narrow mouth of the harbour. The city and it's container ships are further in but the marina is just visible here.


We had no idea what to expect. Perhaps a warship and 30 officials pulling us into harbour to suffer a 3-day clearing in procedure? Maybe being told that the harbour is closed (as reported in one web site) or perhaps a totally modern marina busy with foreign cruisers? I had joined Annina in her Spanish studies and she had prepared me with a short dictionary / phrase book for first radio contact.

And then on to Cuba



"Este es el velero Aliisa"
"Somos dos personas"
"El barco es Australiano!"


Approaching the buoyed entrance to the second largest city in Cuba, I finally got a reply on the VHF. My Spanish studies had paid off. Unfortunately I had no idea what I was told to do and had to pull the ace from my sleeve: Lo siento, no comprendo. Inglese?




The first official was apparently a doctor. (Quarantine) He and all who followed - 5 others - were the warmest and friendliest I've ever seen. The young customs officer (below) took his job seriously and spent a good 1/2 hour going through our toiletries and the boxes on our bed.


Our young customs officer was the only one that had to prove himself a little. He kicked off his shoes and settled in the aft cabin with my torch for about half an hour...






One of the marina duty managers was Jorge - a flirt and charm on two legs. He sat us down in the airconditioned office and gave us a 30 minute briefing about Cuba and all the practicalities we needed to know, before ushering us to the marina waterfront cantina for a icy cold beer. We had been in Cuba for one hour and I was already in tears from the warm smiling welcome that we received. Of course the feeling of icy cold beer after a week at sea was a particularly overwhelmingly emotional experience...


The voice on the VHF changed and started speaking perfect english. Most importantly, the voice used the word "welcome" in the very first sentence. There is nothing more pleasant in travelling than the feeling of being welcomed.

After a short wait, we tied alongside the old concrete jetty and the clearing-in started. Jorge, the duty manager in the marina, came to personally welcome us first, followed by immigration, customs, an unspecified duo who's interests seemed to be in the vegetable and meat department and finally the "doctor" (quarantine). Fees were payable in CUC - Cuban Convertible Peso(approx 1.1CUC to 1 US), though the unspecified duo accepted a crumbled 5 euro note. (Were they the only ones who didn't give me a receipt?)

After a rather lengthy but extremely joyful procedure, Jorge told us we can go to the waterfront cantina and have cold drinks on our bill. Luvvvvlay. Icy cold Buccaneer was certainly one of the better tasting brews I've had. The beer was extra cold and the weather was extra hot. Maybe I also felt extra good about a pleasant passage, pleasant welcome and the fact that we made it to Cuba! Extra good stuff. And when you feel extra good, other people seem to feel extra good back to you.

Salsa til you die

First day was to be for chilling out but Tom - a Dutch/Canadian from another yacht - promised to take us to town for some fun. It makes no sense to sail to cuba and refuse fun. And some fun we had. We took a cheap (Canary Islands) bottle of rum with us, jumped into a taxi to town and walked into a dance hall. The party was on and with our rum on the table, the locals lined up with their plastic cups. Despite several attempts by almost all locals, Annina and I did not learn how to dance Salsa. Bugger! But the band was good and the people kept getting happier by the hour. (Funny that...)

We returned by a private car, late at night. The first impression was happy and wonderful.








Dance amigo, dance!


The pressure was on from the calendar, now well into May. Even though June is supposed to be "ok" in this part of Caribbean, I was constantly aware of our need to move back south towards Panama. Fortunately there was no internet at all so we were FREE to do nothing but hit the town. Every day. And every day we did. On day 2 we simply walked out the marina and started waiting for a private "taxi". None came but a Dutch couple (Saskia and Edwin) stopped by in their rental car, fully equipped with a local guide (Oreste). They promised a lift but we had to endure some sight seeing with them first. Oh... alright.








Dance amigo, dance!


At the end the day we had abducted Oreste for ourselves and managed to do Santiago proper in the following day: Castro's old school, Castro's old house and starting place of the revolution were all covered as well a very cleverly arranged lunch in one of the many small private restaurants. These are allowed with a max of 12 seats but there are no adverts or signs for them, making them almost impossible to find. (Fortunately tourists are very easily spotted in the street scape and the various "tour guides" will make sure you find one too.) Oreste did an absolutely perfect job with us, leaving us alone every so often to soak up the views or have a few drinks somewhere and then meeting us again for something else. He's services also included getting us some Cohiba cigars and some 15yo Matusalem Rum at a price that surely satisfied both parties.






Dance amigo, dance!


The rest of the days were just one dance session. It was supposed to be a drumming session too, with Marco taking us around to the local performing arts centre. Unfortunately we came in too late and there was other programs on. I don't know how to dance but I would have been able to do some percussion. Instead I ended up dancing again, this time with Marco's 8yo daughter, in their living room, while Marco was spinning Annina around. Yeah, you could say that they don't have much but they do have song and dance. Summarising our Cuba experience would be easy: "Music, Dance, Rum, Smiles"








Dance amigo, dance!


The homes that we visited were modest but comfortable and nice. The poverty escaped us, though we drove past some very poor looking neighborhoods and surely there was a lot of Cuban life that would remain hidden from us. Nevertheless, the most significant thing we saw was the amazing warmth of Cuban people. Most of them were genuinely proud of their country - particularly the education and health care system which matches almost any country in the world.

Through my own idealistic eyes I saw Cuba being a nation of survivors. If there is a place where you can find a good doctor, a good mechanic, a good carpenter, a good plumber, a good electrician, a good anything to do with making and maintaining, that place would be Cuba. Jeez, these boys just do it. They keep a car going for 60 years and they don't complain. In fact, they laugh and dance and smile and get on with it. (I'm sure they complain too but this is purely an observation of what we saw)


The vehicles....


Before jumping into this Chevy Bel Air -55 I wanted to check that the engine was a genuine job. Yep it was the original engine. Many old american cars have had some surgery and many have an old Japanese diesel under the hood.



So c'mon! Let's go driving















Out of necessity, a nation of skill is born. While they need to be kept in running order, their owners also take pride in how their cars look. At least some of them.


The human rights was not an easy topic but we did hear that Raul is ruling the country with even a harsher control than Fidel: A man can get 3 years in jail for not having a job! (Maybe that would sort out 80 percent of the unemployment in the rest of the world too?) Oreste was safe with his 2 days per week government job but in order to live a decent life he had to "pall around with tourists", another activity that is tolerated only to a point. So yes, there were issues and there were grievances. A man taking a government job may lose some friends by stepping to "the other side". There are certainly and obviously people who do well and people who do not-so-well. There was certainly a capitalist system living beneath the communist system. Or perhaps above it.
Capitalism is the exploitation of man by man.
Communism is the complete opposite.
- Polish proverb-




But times are changing. At least a little. A mixture of new cars - particularly taxis - are seen all around. But when the government gives its distinguished athletes a car, the choice between an old Lada or a new western car, the athlete's choice is clear, the one you can get spare parts to!


There were well-to-do people and there were poor people. There was the system and there were the people in the system, beneath the system, above the system and in some other ways outside the system. To summarise: Cuba, minus a lot of freedom and a lot of "stuff" was still a bunch of people very much like us, except that they were open hearted, warm, smiling, loving and wonderful all over. I'm sure there are exceptions but we didn't meet any of them. The above was true to all people we met, including the customs officer and the police, Jorge the marina manager and so on.


Happy birthday, Alicia!





Chair maker on the street


(The only exception was the guy with lots of gold teeth, hanging around the marina and push-selling his private restaurant. He was the only person who didn't seem genuinely friendly. Beware, if you stop by. )

I suppose I have made my point. Cuba Rocks! I can think of a lot of worse places to live. Walking in many of the over-developed countries filled with material wealth would hardly leave you with the feeling of friendliness and happiness as strong as we felt in Santiago de Cuba. And for those of you who think it was based on us being ripped off or milked dry etc. I say not so.

Instead of raving on, I have to stop. I had a glimpse into the life of Santiago de Cuba. Instead of trying to make it more than what it was and claim to know something about a place that whizzed past me in five days, I hope the pictures will help tell the real story. Even though it's not a just image. It's just an image.


A shocking discovery? You know how electricity is sometimes compared to plumbing in the beginner's text books? Here's the analogy come true. This is a Cuban shower head. Fully wired for warm water, 50 amps of AC flowing right above the water pipe. Right til the very end of it.





The local vege markets were dirt cheap for us and the only place where we used the local pesos. Produce was very good quality and being a white tourist made no difference in the prices.





Sometimes you just have to know where to go. For example: if you need eggs in Santiago, you need to look for this old man sitting on the foot path with a bag full of them, there seems to be no eggs anywhere else!




We left into the rain and I was asking myself "Why?" The flip-side of cruising is the need to keep moving. If we don't move we don't cruise. Cruising is moving. Saying goodbye. Leaving just when you start to settle. That's the life of the unsettled. The distance ahead of us was short, only 110 miles but the voyage turned out to be harder than expected and the destination - Jamaica - further away from our experience in Cuba than I would have wished.



PS. If my writing contains an extra amount of !s and ?s and if you find that there is a decrease in full stops and commas *@$% it is because those two keys on my laptop have stopped working and I have to use copy / paste to use them. Thank you, new Toshiba! See you in the Aliisa dot net -product review later on!



End result? An empty wallet. A few hastily scribbled addresses with tears of joy on them. A memory card full of pictures and an overwhelmed brain full of memories. A few coins and a 3 peso Che Guevara.
Previous: Curacao Next: Jamaica