Manatí to Neuvitas
45 miles
I am not going to lie, today was tough. It was not that those were the longest 45 of my life, cycling along a partially paved and partially deeply rutted, rocky dirt track. Nor was it because of the wind, sometimes at my back, but other times charging me with a rhinoceros’s fury. It was because I was lonely. All there was to comfort me were Acacia trees, cattle and sugar cane.
When I came upon a lone three-wheeled taxi heading my direction I stuck to it like a frightened fawn, not wanting to let it out of my sight lest I became abandoned out in the nothingness. I took water breaks when they took bush bathroom breaks, I kept their pace, I even drafted them for a while. I wasn’t scared, just very alone and struggling with homesickness.
I have not heard English spoken since I left the airport five days ago and I am not skilled enough in Spanish to have any meaningful conversations. A girl’s head starts to start to spin after a few days of reviewing her every thought while pedaling in the middle of nowhere. I get bored with myself. I miss my family and friends and especially my granddaughter. She is the best. Being away from her makes my heart sag.
When I arrived in Nuevitas, I collapsed on my bed for an hour and then made myself rouse and walk dutifully through the town.
I came upon a boy training a pelican to take fish from his hand. I saw a herd of girls training for some sort of rollar skating derby whipping themselves around and around the town square at lightening speed. I saw a few boys flying homemade kites made from colorful paper on the malecón (a walkway along the seaside).
I thought about all the people these Cubans are missing. The husbands, wives, sons and daughters that have left in order to find a better life and to support their families here. I thought about their heartsickness and it put mind to shame.
I ate a huge plate of spaghetti and a beverage for the equivalent of two dollars and felt better. Sometimes that is all it takes. I am simple and lucky in that way.
