#AdventuresofGandR: Luna de Miel. Part 2: Viñales, Cuba

There were so many places we loved in Cuba, and each had its' own charm. Viñales, however, held a special place in our hearts because it was the first Christmas away from home that we weren't overcome with homesickness. 

As I mentioned before, we stayed in Casa Particulares for the entirety of our trip, but Viñales was were we truly discovered Cuban hospitality. Yovany and his wife, Vane's, Casa Nolo, in Viñales, was "la casa rosa" with a second floor. 

Viñales is a rainbow of petite, charming box shaped homes, with a room or two for rent, and the "arrendador" symbol pasted next to the door. We had been advised that Vane was a great cook, and the first night we sincerely regretted not ordering dinner on our drive from Havana to Viñales, as when we arrived the delicious wafting of Vane's Langostina Enchilada filled the entire casa. Vane had incredible recommendations for restaurants in the tourist filled little village but oh gosh, that smell! Mmmmm! 

Vane, a firecrackers of a woman, with enchanting sage eyes, helped Ross and I arrange a sunrise hike with their friend and guide Luis Miguel to the homestead of Los Aquaticos. We didn't really pick-up on what they believe, but Miguel told us it had to do with the healing powers of agua. 

We left well before the sun crept out of her slumber, and hiked for almost an hour with nothing but our headlamps, and the sound of Miguel's footsteps guiding the way, bumping into the occasional vaca. Eventually,  I recognized the sound of tiny little cerditos circling my feet, indicating that we had arrived. We, and several other tourists, sat in anticipation, huddled in the sticky humidity of a Pinar del Rio dawn waiting for the sunrise to reveal what we had woken up so early to witness. 

Tourism is still very regulated in Cuba, and we were told we had to take a guide for this hike, which honestly, Ross and I were a bit bummed out by, but Miguel was awesome, and we were unexpectedly happy to spend our morning this the sheepish, funny young man. 

The sun revealed that along with their cerditos, these aquaticos really had picked the coolest place to call home. 

Ross and I really aren't guide type travelers, and are admittedly snobbish about it, but on the way down Miguel asked, "Do you want to take the scenic route?", and of course we are always up for an adventure. If not for Miguel's guidance in the dark, because let's be honest, Ross would have divorced me on our way up to the sunrise- I like to try to play it cool, like I'm super brave but I'm kinda scared of the dark, and even more terrified of the jungle- our walk down sold us even more on Miguel. We walked through tobacco fields, and he introduced us to the kindest tobacco farmer. 

We have learned that long ago that TANSTAAFL, and tourist traps are a right of enterprising locals, but Cuba was not the same. Sure there are touts in most of the cities, and tourist destinations but this lovely gentleman with sandpaper hands, taught us the difference between local Cuban cigars meant for their own consumption and the ones that are sold to tourists. Apparently, locally consumed cigars are totally natural; cured with honey, vanilla, anise, and other spices, then dried naturally in a tobacco hut. When they are ready to be smoked, they are rolled, and stored in a bundle covered with a banana leaves that serve as natural humidors. 

We were presented with a cigar (and he refused compensation for the cigar or his time, yeah, NOT a tourist trap, one more notch on Miguel's belt). I'm a non-smoker, but when in Rome right? AHH! I accept that there are many things that I'm just not refined enough to appreciate. Scotch, caviar, and now Cuban cigars are on that list. My chimney of a husband, enjoyed the puro, and I spent the rest of the walk wishing there was some way to strip my mouth of the residual flavor, thinking, "What happened to the honey, and vanilla?". It was "the gift that just kept on giving". 

We were told that the nicotine in a tobacco leaf is concentrated in the veins, and the main vein has the most. Honestly, I  haven't be able to figure out how true that is but if it is, I'm sure Philip-Morris is all about those main veins. 

After working up an appetite on our little tour with Miguel, Vane had breakfast waiting for us in La Casa Nolo.  She's an amazing cook, and makes her own jams, and concentrates when fruits are in season. Each morning, I looked forward to what she had preserved; ripe, pink guava jam the first morning, and ice cold mango juice the next, which she stored in used beer bottles. You learn quickly that Cubans are industrious. There is a scarcity of every thing at some point. The Frankenstein Chevy Bel Airs, which really are only the shell of their original selves puttering the streets, and highways, are the most obvious testament that Cubans are creative and resilient (Lesson #1: How to be a Cuban). 

As it was Christmas day, they already had a cerdito (it was more of a cerdote) roasting for dinner. After a nap, we took a drive, simply to explore the surrounding hills of Viñales, picking up hitchhikers along the way, and making their destination ours. My favorite was the precocious 8yr old boy with coke bottle glasses, and his mom. He was a busted pipe of jokes. Ross, my master of puns, instigated him, and there was no turning back. I always pegged Ross as a terrible actor. Ross was laughing so hard, I thought we had Jerry Seinfeld in the backseat. All was revealed when I asked Ross what he said, and under his breathe he murmured, "I don't get it either". It was Ross' best performance yet. Yes, I will take a commission on any jobs booked from this post. 

We spent the evening drinking mojitos, and hanging out with Yovany, Vane, little Anyelina and the Sanchez family. We were warned that no one is immune to Cuban promiscuity and their infectious charm, but little did I know Abuelita Sanchez would be my biggest competition on this trip! I have to give Ross credit, she was incredibly cute, and equally smitten with Ross. Don't you worry. I wasn't left out! I too had my chance to shine, when I was invited to dance salsa with the neighbor across the street. Of course, I realized that I had failed miserably when I looked up, away from my feet to discover that I was just the evening's entertainment, as the entire neighborhood witnessed the only latina & negrita in Cuba who couldn't dance. No, my childhood dance training did not prepare me for this swagger. My dance partner graciously told us I did a good job, but we all knew the truth. 

The moment, I walked out of the Havana airport into the parking lot, took a moment to look back at the airport terminal, and take in that my feet had finally hit Cuban soil, I knew something had infected me. In Viñales, I started to understand I was learning to be. I'm not professing to have turned zen master or anything but it's nice to sit on the porch in a rocking chair, just chilling... I don't know how to do that. Ask my mom, I was born with ants in my pants. In Cuba, you just gotta soak it in, hands open, heart open, mind open, car door open, with no deadlines. 

Next stop: Santa Clara and El Che! 

#AdventuresofGandR: Luna de Miel en Cuba. Part 1: Habana.

As a sophomore in high school, my Spanish teacher, Mrs. Keeney, started one of our first lessons with the Wim Wender's Buena Vista Social Club documentary. Unbeknownst to her (OK, I'm betting she had masterminded this), this sparked in me, a romance with Cuba, and a romance with love itself. This was also the beginning of my inner rebel/idealist/socialist/communist self that identified my teens. While a lot of my angst, and communist ideals have long faded, my desire to fall hopelessly in love, and to travel to Cuba has continued to be a long dream of mine. 

One part of that equation happened on a fortuitous, trip as a student abroad in Ghana where I met my husband, Ross, and the second part, was realized due to the kindness of our friends and relatives gifting Ross and I the most appropriate wedding gift we could have imagined, our "Luna de miel en Cuba". 

Ross and I have been fortunate enough to share many adventures together but this has undoubtedly been one of the most transformative, and inspiring trips. There were many reasons for us to fall in love with Cuba, fall in love with the world, fall in love with ourselves and fall in love with each other all over again (I didn't know I could love that guy even more than I already did) but I'm not sure I will ever be able to pinpoint the one reason this was such an important trip. Getting married may have been an incredible part of it but the spirit, and kindness of Cubans is simply infectious. 

Cuba is blue: an aching, painful, yet beautifully, joyous, content, and calm blue, that seeps romance, nostalgia, passion, and suavity.  

We have had a few friends who've lived, worked and traveled to Cuba, and the overarching advice we received was stay in Casas Particulares, and take it slow. Within the two weeks, we had in Cuba, we saw a lot of the country, but to me, Cuba's charm lies in the honest, conversations over ice cold Mojitos, and rum. It lies in the "Ay, Mami" machismo, and the hearty, strong presence. 

We, of course, have a lot to learn about Cuba, its' complicated history, the nuances and realities of life, and about the politics that are to come, but in the two short weeks we were there, Ross and I, have begun a relationship with Cuba, that we are excited to see blossom. 

At the advice of our friends, we decided to spend our time in Havana Vieja walking. We really wanted to feel Havana, so every morning right at sunrise, we woke up, and took a walk for a couple of hours to get our appetite flowing, and watch the city wake up. 

It's cooler during December. Our mornings were delightfully brisk and warmed up with every waking Cubano. Havana really never sleeps. You can feel the city's heartbeat with your eyes closed but to there is something magical about the morning. 

I'm frightfully shy, and my Spanish is poor at best, but what I love about photography is that it breaks down these walls. It's my plastic/metal courage, and icebreaker. Thankfully, Ross' is fluent in Spanish as well, so between my coy smiles, toddler-level Spanish, and Ross we were able to have some great conversations with shop keepers, little ladies sweeping the sidewalk outside their home, touts, and children, and the many times we were faced standing in the cola, waiting with the rest of Cuba for life to happen. 

Ross and I played a little game on this trip. Every time we heard Guantanamera, we vowed to take a shot of el ron, we failed miserably on holding each other to this task, mainly because we spent the first week terrified we were going to run out of cash, with no way to get more. While we were there the first little Florida based bank, started allowing it's customers to use their debit and credit cards in Cuba but unfortunately we are not members of this bank. Hopefully, in the months to come this will change for American travellers. 

We took long lunches, sipping Mojitos and Daiquiris for me, and a doble Havana Club Añejo con hielo for Ross while feasting at what became our favorite paladar, Nao Bar Paladar. Tostones, Coñejo, Langostino, Ropa Vieja, it was all good. The staff was delightful, and soon came to know our faces as we, came is lunch after lunch. Food in Cuba is notoriously, unvaried, and while we were pretty over pork, by the time we left, I fell in love with langostina enchilada, saucy (Unnecessary luxury No.1) tomato based, steamed lobster, usually served with fried plantains, and Ropa Vieja, a stewed saucy beef (ok, it is the same sauce as the lobster). 

In lieu of sightseeing, we just walked, and talked, and drank the days away. While we did catch the old, fortress, Plaza de la Revolucion, with the epic Che outline, and a few others, the headliners were definitely the Cubans themselves.

It's been a long time since I felt that alive and connected, sans wifi.