Palma Rubia to Vinales
45 miles
The limestone cliffs rise up around us, seeming to surge upwards out of the lush green foliage in an attempt to reach the sky overhead. We pedal through valleys created by the collapse of an enormous underground cavern carved by a massive river system. The collapse left behind fertile valleys, towering buttresses, waterfalls and exposed stalagmites and stalactites that sculpt the mountain sides.
We stop to explore two caves. The first by boat and the second by foot, both guided. The first guide told us about the natural history of the area, the second, who I had met last year shared the cultural history.
“I think I am moving to the Dominican Republic, next year.”, she said in the darkness of the cave, where it feels easier to speak freely. “It is breaking my heart. I love Cuba, I love the people and the land. I am from here. This is my home, but I might have to go because there is not enough. I am the saddest about leaving my father. He is the best man. He has always been there and I will need to leave him behind. I can’t bear it, but I need to be able to survive. I make 12 dollars a month working full time.”
None of us know what to say, but we linger in the darkness, trying to allow her sadness to have room. It is so unbearable to think of the choice she has to make.
Over dinner, we reflect on the fact that here, in Cuba, we are respectively wealthier than the top wage earners in the United States. We are dripping in gold and navigate this country like royalty. It is a sickening realization and one that feels weighted with responsibility. With all this, what can we do?
