Playa Jibacoa to Cardenas.
Fortunately, when Weezie and I woke up this morning, the dawn was cool and silky and we had both slept well, lulled by the sounds of waves crashing just feet from our door. We ate Cliff Bars for breakfast and I had a Trader Joe’s instant coffee in my bicycle bottle ( perfect for addicts on the run), and we were off. There was barely a tickle of a breeze.
Unfortunately, there were hills, lots of them. It is easy for me to be overly optimistic and convince myself that the coast is flat. It is not. Only in New Jersey.
Fortunately, Weezie found a road side stand where we could get more sustenance and we procured cheese sandwiches with no lubrication, two Cuban Coffees and four fresh squeezed mango juices for the equivalent of four dollars.
Unfortunately, the breeze began to pick up. A tickle turned into a cough and then a roar. We took turns blocking the wind from each other mile after mile for 54 miles. Our knees ached, our stomachs rumbled, our skin burnt.
Fortunately, we made it to our destination, Cardenas and saw that this town had a lot of food options. We were very excited to partake.
Unfortunately, when we tried to find a place to say, an aggressive woman with red eyes and a matronly swagger told us that this was a dangerous town and led us to what she said was the only accommodation. It was behind a welded metal fence comprised of sheets of tin and the yard was a dirt lot that looked very much like a dump. The man at the door grumpily told us he rented by the hour. We already played that game a few nights ago and I didn’t want to play it again.
Fortunately, Weezie had the where-with-all to extract us from that situation and the optimism to believe that we would find something else.
Unfortunately, the traffic was chaotic and stressful. The streets were full of trucks, cars, bicycle taxis, horse and carts, mopeds and us and not a traffic light in sight. People just nodded at each other and kind of took turns at every dusty, loud intersection.
Fortunately, we made it to the historic Hotel Dominica. It had just been refurbished and had beautiful wrought iron balconies, tall arched windows with wooden slated shutters, immaculate tile floors and 14 foot high ceilings. On a whim, fueled by exhaustion, we asked how much for two people to stay. Thirteen dollars, including breakfast. We walked up the marble floors to our room and found three beds with red sashes laid across white cotton sheets and beautiful artwork on the walls.
Unfortunately, there was no power. We went to the restaurant downstairs because we were told they were serving dinner anyway, but after a heated argument in the kitchen, our server came out seemingly humiliated and told us he had been wrong, there was no food.
Fortunately, with sweat beading on his upper lip, he bade us to stay seated at the bar, that was lit by a cell phone light and said he would run through the darkened town and get us pizzas because he knew his way in the dark and where to go. We couldn’t say no because he was so impassioned.
Unfortunately, he didn’t get us pizzas. After waiting for quite some time, he returned with hamburgers. Weezie and I are die hard vegetarians. I couldn’t do it. Weezie ate them because she had to and has been complaining of the shag rug she feels in her mouth ever since.
Fortunately, when we retreated upstairs and I lay on my bed to write this by the open window that leads to the balcony, the electricity came back on. The people in the streets cheered.
Now the breeze is gentle again and I can hear the clip-clops of the horses trotting by. It was a terrific day.