Part 4 Havana to Varadero

Lookie-Likies in Havana, Che G is probably spinning in his grave!

Wednesday 10th September

We're are ready to leave Havana.  Although an all-inclusive resort in not normally our style, we are looking forward to some relaxation, peace from the hustlers, the beach, the pool and not having to pay for anything. For a poor country our first three days in Havana have been expensive.

Whilst enjoying our last breakfast at Hotel Terral and looking out over the Gulf of Mexico, up pops the beaming face of Eduardo!  Uh, oh.  He wanted to take us on a tour of Old Havana, we declined but invited him to have a beer with us.  We walk to a nearby bar, just a couple of blocks down from the hotel, which has a little garden oasis.  Over a few mojitos and beers we chatted to Eduardo about Cuba's economy, the changes that have happened and his future hopes and dreams.   He's divorced and lives with his 85 year old Mum.  He wants to remarry and his ambition is to move to Italy.  He too gives me a 3 peso note featuring Che, which he has signed, as a memento.  Time for us to head for Varadero and the beach.

Last moments in Havana with Eduardo

Our coach arrives promptly at 2 pm and we head into Havana to collect others headed for Varadero. We stop at a smart hotel and an attractive blonde lady gets on, sits across the aisle from me and we exchange a smile.  As the coach slowly pulls away she leaps to her feet, saying 'No, no, stoap, stoap' in a broad Glaswegian accent.  She explains to the bi-lingual guide that her husband hasn't yet boarded the coach.  The guide recognises the urgency in her voice but the words are unintelligible, I translate. The drivers eyes roll and his foot hits the brake.  The blonde leaves the bus and moments later bundles her belligerent and florid-faced husband, let's call him Bill, into a seat and off we set.

We're told it's a couple of hours journey time to Varadero and we'll stop half way for a drink and a pee. We get chatting to the blonde and husband Bill, being Scots I ask them how they've voted in the up-coming Referendum. Like us, they arrive back in the U.K. on the 18th September, the day we will all discover whether Scotland has voted for independence or to remain as part of the U.K.  I'm surprised to hear they have voted to stay in.  As Bill so eloquently put it  'See if I get home and the vote is to leave, that's me and my business f****d'.

Bill passes across a 2 litre bottle of Coke to Ken, who takes a slug, his eyes widen and he says to me 'Do you want a sip'?  'It's about 50/50 rum and coke'.  Bill manages to finish off the lot in about 15 minutes and then unsurprisingly needs the toilet.  The guide tells him he will have to wait.

We drive through green tropical scenery and appropriately enough a tropical storm erupts - heavy rain and impressive lightning.  We're pleased to see the rain and hope it clears the air.  After an hour or so we arrive at said watering hole and paddle through puddles for piddles.  The arrangement leaves a lot to be desired and I am happy to have rainwater puddles to wade through on the way back to the bus, to rinse the urine from my feet and sandals.

Bill had a unique ability to mix generosity and an undertone of implied violence.  Ken had ordered a couple of beers for them and when he went to pay, Bill insisted on paying, saying 'That's no how it works, Pal'.

Off we set again and an hour later we start dropping people off at their resorts.  The first few we pass look distinctly like prison camps.  My heart sinks just a little.  Fortunately, they seem to improve the further along the peninsula we go.  At the penultimate resort we wish farewell and happy holiday to our Scottish friends, and I can't help wondering which will fail first, Bill's relationship or his liver.

Finally we arrive at 'Memories'.  The main lobby is impressive, a high ceilinged, open-sided area, abuzz with chatter, music and the hiss and gurgle of coffee machines - hoorah!