Vinales to San Diego de los Banos
There is a network of friends and family that stretchs through out Cuba linking Casa Particulares from one town to the next. It is an excellent system that a cyclist or traveler can follow easily, by simply asking their host where to stay in their next destination. There always seems to be a cousin or a friend that has a room to rent in every town and with a quick phone call, a spot is secured and a traveler can rest easy knowing that some kind soul, will be waiting to receive them.
Most casa particulares cost about twenty dollars per room. For an extra five dollars, they will also feed you a basic, but delicious meal of beans and rice, bread and butter, fried fish and yucca for dinner, or the same for breakfast replacing the fish with a platter of bananas, guava and pineapples, juice, an egg and delicious coffee.
Owning a Casa Particular is a great source of income for the host and once they get word that a guest is coming they do everything in their power to secure your stay.
At one casa, a young woman was sent out to great us on a horse and cart. We were nearly two hours later than we thought we would be, but five miles out from her home, heading in the direction we were expected, there she was.
“Leah?” She asked with a wide smile when we pedaled into view. “Venga.” She then proceeded to lead us along a long, red clay road, through banana and guava fields back to her simple, clean, tranquil home. Her horse keeping pace with our bicycles the whole way. Once there we were given coconut milk to quench our parched throats and spent the afternoon practicing Spanish with her extended relations and playing with her son.
The next night, we stayed at her cousin’s house, forty miles away. We were told we would find it right next to the gas station. Again, we were two hours later than expected, (seems to be a pattern, but there is so much to see!) and there was our host, sitting astride her bicycle waiting with a warm smile. She called out our names when we appeared and led us down a network of dirt roads and alleys to her charming home, seemingly unfazed that she had been sitting there waiting for such a long time. We have no way to make contact with anyone on our own because of our lack of phone service, and so we can’t tell them we will be late. Upon our arrival, she offered us her phone so that we could make contact with our spouses and let them know we were safe so at least they wouldn’t worry.
Tonight, we stopped at a stall alongside the road for a snack of chocolate galletas and pear nectar at a little wooden stand set up under the shade of a huge umbrella tree. We were told my the merchant of yet another lovely home a few miles up the road. The requisite phone call was made and again our host appeared, a few miles from the town limits to usher us in. This time on a moped. Conveniently, two white women on bicycles loaded down with panniers is an odd sight here in Cuba and it makes us hard to miss.
Because our phones don’t work here, we are relying on this chain of goodwill and the shepherding that these women do to find our way. We would never find these spots otherwise. It has been my favorite and most meaningful part of the trip so far. I wonder who we will be lucky enough to meet tomorrow.