ArgoKnot

Before we started sailing long distances, someone (who shall not be named) gave me the book An Embarrassment of Mangos, in preparation for the tropical destinations Bob and I were planning to visit. It’s a well-known book among cruisers.

While we have found a lot of mangos here in Cuba, what I find even more in abundance is generosity. Starting with our driver Noel, in Santiago de Cuba, I began to notice that getting supplies is almost impossible in this country, and people have to rely on serendipity. They give generously of what they have and sometimes they get just what they need in return. Mostly though, they have to be exceedingly industrious to make or fabricate what they need out of the random things that come their way—like those fishermen we encountered in the inner-tube boat with rag bag sail. Still, they have a generosity of spirit that compels them to share what they have no matter what comes back to them. It’s quite astonishing.

So we had a very gentle sail to Cayo Levisa today, which might be our last stop before arriving in Havana. I don’t know how long we’ll be in Cayo Levisa because we chose this spot to wait out a cold front that should arrive at any moment. Cold fronts always have strong, northerly winds, and since we are on the north coast of Cuba that can mean some pretty rough conditions.   Where we are tucked in, we have reefs and some little cayos for protection, and we are a ways out from the mainland, which would be a dangerous lee shore in northerly winds. A ‘lee shore’ means that the winds are blowing you toward land, never a good thing in strong winds. After just hearing Bob’s conversation with our weather router, the venerable Chris Parker, it looks like we may here for a full week! Sheesh! Chris is calling this the never-ending winter because cold fronts, which should be done in March, are still making a weekly appearance. I wonder what is going on in the northern US, where most of these fronts originate.

About midday during our sail, I was startled to see a little brown bird fly right into our cockpit and right down the companionway into our cabin! Bob went down below to check on him and get him outside again. Bob opened a hatch and the little bird flew right out again. I think Bob has had a bird onboard during every long passage he has taken over the past few years….but we were not offshore today! We were only a mile or so from land! Little bird didn’t fly away but landed on our foredeck. He did not appear tired or injured; he did not appear the least bit frightened. He marched up and down the decks, looking, as all birds do, a bit like some kind of military officer. All he needed were some gold stars on his shoulders to complete the look. He perched on some of the lines, and as Bob was constantly tweaking at our sails, which meant some of the lines started moving, he would calmly just hop to a different line.

We don’t know what kind of bird he is. He was bigger than a sparrow, but smaller than a robin, with a black, finch-type beak. He had a dull golden/olive breast and was blotchy brown over the rest of his body, similar to a cowbird’s coloring. I think he was about 6” tall.

He checked out the entire boat, coming back into the cockpit with us for a while, even flying down below again. Bob had to go down and open a hatch for him again. In spite of the fact that Bob was in close quarters with him down below as well as being the giant who originated all the noise of the electric winches moving lines and sails, the little bird was not the least bit intimidated by being close to Bob. Bob put out some crumbs of my somewhat stale homemade whole wheat/rye bread. He seemed to enjoy that! Bob also put out a small plate with a puddle of water on it, and although the bird perched on the plate a couple of times, he did not actually drink any water. He spent a lot of time preening, and I could only imagine that he didn’t like feeling salty anymore than we do! He spent about two hours with us, and he was very curious about us and about the whole boat. He spent some time in the dinghy investigating my window box full of herbs and the pink geranium. At one point he was perched right beside me looking at my legs quite intently. I really thought he was going to hop on my legs, and I was willing myself not to flinch or shriek if he should do it. He looked me in the eye for a moment and then hopped elsewhere. I swear he could tell I was fearful!

Most of the time when a bird takes refuge on our boat it is exhausted and more often than not these birds die onboard. It is very sad. We always think they have gotten lost from their migrating flock and become too exhausted to finish the trip. It was wonderful to have a curious, healthy bird on board. When he’d had enough of a visit he took off.

The other highlight of today is the focus of my thoughts –our encounter with the generous Cubans on Cayo Levisa. The Guarda Frontera does not have an office on this island, so when a cruising boat comes in, the dive boat captain goes to the mainland to pick up an officer of the Guarda Frontera. When they return you are expected to take your dinghy ashore to pick up the GF officer to bring him onboard your boat for the paperwork and inspection.

When we saw the dive boat arrive with the officer Bob headed to shore. As Bob picked up the officer, the dive boat captain handed Bob a big papaya! After doing the paper work with the officer, Bob returned him to shore with the daily dispatch of bars of soap, one for the officer and one to thank the captain for the papaya. Well! The dive boat captain had more gifts for us — an abundance of wonderful vegetables! Two small heads of bok choi, a large head of leafy lettuce, and some interesting long beans that look similar to green beans or pole beans! It was such a generous gift!

Like the woman in Marea del Portillo, who gave us all her eggs (13!) and 8 tomatoes and even all her coffee, this man gave freely of what he had that he thought we might want. It wasn’t exactly what we would have bought if we’d had access to a store. But this is a culture where there is not access to stores and he knew it was very likely we were in need of fresh green veggies not easily found.   Both these people gave freely of what they had without knowing if we could give them anything in return, much less anything that would be useful to them. The woman in Marea del Portillo asked for clothes and shoes, and I have a feeling she would have preferred childrens’ sizes of these items, while I could only give her adult clothing and shoes. Still, she had generously offered up what she had, hoping she’d get something useful in return.

That’s just what the captain did. After giving us the wealth of his fresh food, he asked Bob if we had an extra screwdriver. Bob said he’d check in his tool box. Mostly, we do not have extras of any tools, so we are disappointed that we do not have a screwdriver for him. Although it is our natural reaction to hand him our only screwdriver, it would be a potentially dangerous situation for Bob to make such a long passage home without a full tool box. Bob has found that he has an extra vice grip wrench (bought in Florida when he couldn’t find the one he already had), and we certainly hope that the captain will be happy to get one.

Dinner last night was memorable, but I’m not sure if was truly the taste or the immense gratitude of having fresh ingredients. I sautéed a little bacon and then used the bacon fat to sauté some small local onions that look like cipollini to me, green beans, a head of bok choi, and plenty of garlic right at the end. Then I added a health splash of balsamic vinegar and let it reduce to a syrup. I stirred in bow tie pasta with a little of the starchy cooking water. We grated lots of parmesan on top and it was very a memorable dinner. Thank you, Captain!

It’s still a bit mind boggling to me that you can’t just go to the nearest big town and find a hardware store or even a market. A major aspect of life here is giving what you can and seeing what comes back to you. In our experience, the Cubans do this very well.

Today I cast off the last stitches on the Finnish Sweater with the asymmetrical cables, and racing down the last sleeve, the bind off came as a shock to me. I had no idea I was that close to done. I must’ve been knitting with blinders on.

I haven’t been doing so well the past week. Every time we’ve sailed I’ve been seasick, violently and gently. Gently is better, but let me tell you it’s still NO fun. Days are so long and mind-numbingly boring when I am seasick. I cannot knit or read, and although this seems odd, it feels better to have my eyes closed rather than open and looking at a horizon. So, for almost a week I spent most of each day looking at the images on the inside of my eyeballs. Really, really boring.

The night before last we had to make an overnight passage to get the to the western tip of Cuba, Cabo de San Antonio. We arrived there in the mid-afternoon yesterday, to find the dock where the Guarda Fontera expects everyone to tie up for signing papers, to be too rough for our tired and bedraggled souls and too risky for Pandora’s nice paint job. The dock is a big cement pier jutting straight out into the unprotected waters of the Gulf of Mexico, and choppy waves were crashing against this dock. Anchoring is dicey in this area because it is all rock–bad holding. But anchor we did, and Bob took the dinghy ashore in the rough chop. He did not want the Guarda Frontera coming to us in their typical scruffy skiffs, possibly banging into Pandora in the chop. Of course, they wanted me to come in, and they wanted to come out and see the boat. In Bob’s firmest voice, and with what Vulcan-mind-probe abilities he could muster, he said that I had to stay onboard to make sure we didn’t drag in the bad anchorage (real reason being that I had been seasick for more hours than either of us could count and was in no shape to take a rough ride in the dinghy) and that he’d rather not have them visit in such choppy conditions. They acquiesced.

My mood has been deteriorating for about a week. Most likely due to not feeling well every time we pull up the anchor, and frankly, not even feeling all that well at anchor. Yesterday I decided to try to knit, and it wasn’t going well as I could feel myself getting queasier and queasier. Those of you who knit will understand that I was just trying to get to a good stopping place. I have been redesigning a few things about this sweater to suit me, and the sleeves have the most changes. I was in the cabled area of the first sleeve and just wanted to make it to a place where I’d be able to pick it up and easily know where I’d left off.

Suddenly I’d had enough. Not only was I not at my best, I was pretty clearly very near to being at my worst. I had a meltdown of epic proportions, and the almost sleepless night of our passage added to days and days of mal de mer really sent me off the deep end. I felt volcanic, cyclonic, tectonic. I flung the sweater away from me, and that didn’t feel nearly violent enough for my mood, so I flung it around a bit more. I flung it at every hard surface I could find. I knew I’d done a fair bit of damage to the knitting, including breaking one of the various circular needles in use. I had a mad moment when I wanted to chuck the whole thing overboard. Luckily, it was remembering that some of my favorite stitch holders were in that sweater that kept me from deep-sixing the thing.

And now, just 24 hours later the whole sweater is finished. I really don’t know how it happened. Yesterday, in my fit, I was thinking that the whole thing was a miserable experience and that it would never be finished. And yet, this morning, I made repairs to the damaged knitting that came apart during its beating, and Bob repaired the broken needle, and suddenly that first sleeve was done. We had not even raised anchor by that point.

The sailing today was as easy as it ever gets. Instead of being buffeted about, Pandora sliced through the small waves like she was on a track. She also didn’t wallow side to side. She just made a bee-line for our destination, about 5 hours of sailing. I knit the whole time, and voila! Second sleeve finished. This sweater has no sewing or assembly. When you cast off that second sleeve you are ready to wear it. I have to say I really like it, although that’s really no surprise since I’ve been trying it on through the whole process. Sadly, I will always think of my crazy outburst when I wear it. Hopefully that will become funnier with time.

Yesterday, at Cabo de San Antonio, the marina manager was disappointed to learn that Bob and I did not intend to tie up at the exposed dock. He was hoping for our business and looking forward to having us visit the attached restaurant. That’s the thing we keep finding here in Cuba. There are some facilities where a lot of thought and planning and care has been taken to make something that will attract cruisers, but the big thing, the fact that the harbor is not protected enough to actually stay there, is something beyond their ability to tackle. Everything is owned by the government, and there is no money for building a sea wall or even improving the dock. It is rather sad.

We motored a couple of miles to a safe anchorage, and shortly afterward we were approached by the skiff from a larger fishing boat, likely government owned and manned by numerous fisherman. Did you know that Cuba owns all the fish in the waters and that the fisherman must deliver all their catch to Mother Cuba in exchange for their salary? From what we’ve seen, I doubt there is any morehard-working group in Cuba than fisherman. That saying about ‘the workers pretend to work, and the government pretends to pay’ does not apply to fishermen. These guys deserve much, much more from Mother Cuba.

So, even though all the fish belong to the Cuban government, it’s very common for fishermen to approach sailors and offer to sell or trade something with us for lobster or fish. Yesterday evening, two of the fishermen rowed over to us, offering us four large lobster tails for $5CUC. That’s an amazing price…but that’s what they asked for. When Bob paid them, they began to ask for something else that he couldn’t quite understand. Then one of the fishermen pulled off his baseball cap and showed Bob a playing card, the Queen of Hearts. They wanted a deck of cards! No problem. I sent them our newest deck, still in it’s blue and white Hoyle box. I had used them a few times, and I knew that some of the cards had stuck together from humidity. At some point, when I pulled them apart, some of the cards got abrasions from being separated. But still, that was our best deck. When Bob handed over the box, both men clapped their hands and whooped! I was down below laughing at how happy they sounded to get this deck of cards.

Later the man with the Queen of Hearts in his cap came back with the deck and returned it. He could not explain why, but I’m certain it was because some of the cards were marked. I imagined how much he was looking forward to a game of cards with his cohorts, likely involving betting. Marked cards just would not do. So I gave him an older deck that didn’t even have a box, and were the small bridge size cards that I imagine Cuban men might find too ‘sissy.’ There were probably small marks on these cards too since they are not new…but I hope they found them usable!

These small interactions illustrate how enlightening it is for me to see how simply these people live, and to experience how friendly they are. When they approach our sailboat they are very cautious. They never let their rowboats touch Pandora. They seem happy to make contact with us, beyond just selling us fish, and they seem to enjoy our clumsy attempts at Spanish. We have stopped in some pretty remote places along this trip, and quite a few times we’ve been the only boat in the area. I don’t think meeting cruisers is a daily event for these fishermen.

Today when we anchored at the outskirts of a long maze of mangrove estuaries, another government fishing boat arrived and anchored nearby. Bob and I took off in the dinghy to explore the mangroves, which were delightfully full of herons, ibis and frigate birds. We chased a group of spoonbills, photographing them each time they landed and each time they took flight as we followed them down the winding maze of water and mangroves.

When we came out of the estuaries and were headed back to Pandora, one of the fishermen was waving madly to us from the bow of his boat and motioning for us to come to them. I thought it prudent that Bob go by himself, since—rightly or wrongly– I have a strong sense that I was not the proper company for a group of Cuban fishermen. It seemed like a ‘guy’ gathering. Bob went to visit and they were very excited to meet him. They invited him onboard and showed him around their very basic boat. Bob described it as looking like someone made a frame of bent rebar and then slapped on some cement by hand. One man showed Bob the shaved ice that the catch was layered in and a giant fish that they’d caught today. They did not try to sell Bob any of the fish, and they did not ask for anything. Their living conditions were very rough, but they seemed happy and were very friendly.

While I can’t imagine the life they must lead, I can also see that they probably have a good life that is rich in things I’m not even aware of. I wonder how much this will change, and how quickly when (if?) trade with the US starts up again. I keep referring to this because I cannot get it out of mind. On the one hand, it makes me sad how much the past two (at least) generations of Cubans have suffered and sacrificed. On the other hand, those who have lived well on so little might not be ready or willing for the culture shock that could be headed their way.

In Cheryl Barr’s guidebook, we read that the peninsula going out to Cabo de San Antonio does not even have paved roads. We read that we should keep a watch for a bi-plane that flies over about once a week to drop mail in a local field. There are no stores other than one shelf at the marina that mostly holds bottles of rum. Bob did buy one of those before leaving.

Yesterday afternoon we were shocked to learn that one of the Russian men was stabbed by a stingray while swimming off one the beaches. The stingray pierced completely through his upper arm. I don’t know if the ‘blade’ remained lodged in his arm or came out when the ray swam away. I don’t even know what the stingray’s weapon is called. It was a crisis here, trying to find a way to get this man to a bigger hospital on the mainland.

There is a clinic here where the doctor decided the Russian needed more medical help than he could provide here. Because there had been some mechanical issues with a charter flight yesterday, there were more people than seats available on the one plane that was leaving the island. At first the Russians were told that their friend could not go on that plane, but luckily a spot was found for him. You simple cannot leave behind a person with such a terrible wound and poison running through his body! The flight was to Cienfuegos, but the man needs to get to a hospital in Havana. There was no guarantee that he’d get a flight to Havana.

The remaining Russians were back on the dock yesterday, very subdued and waiting for news of their friend. After talking to them a bit I said that I ‘hoped’ their friend would be okay soon. One of the men who does not know English seemed to startle at that word. The Russian who was talking to me translated for him, and he turned to look at me intensely and repeated ‘hope’ a couple of times while still looking at me. I said it back to him again. Hope.

In ancient Greek ‘hope’ is ἐλπίς ….elpis.  Only in hindsight did I wonder if he might have recognized that word–if I’d thought to say it.

This morning when I got up the Russian boat was gone, so I’m hoping that means they got news of their friend being flown to Havana and are now heading there themselves.

Yesterday (April 6), on the dock in Cayo Largo, these flags were flying from boats: New Zealand, Britain, France, Russia, Switzerland, Luxembourg (no kidding!), and the US. Those who had recently moved off the dock to anchor out flew flags from Norway and Sweden. It’s a veritable United Nations of sailors!

Since there aren’t two boats from any one country (except the Scandinavian countries) this feels like a true melting pot, and the eagerness we all feel to get to know each other gives this place a special friendliness. It’s just amazing. People have had boat issues, engine troubles, or even just a longing for cheese, and everyone wants to help. I can’t speak for the more pressing issues (though I know Bob has ferreted around in the workshop looking for items for others), but I’m happy to report that on Pandora we’ve been particularly helpful in assuaging the longing for cheese. We still have some cheddars from the US, good brie from France, and a wonderful Bella Vitano from Italy.

The head of this marina is named Pier, and he has worked here for over 30 years. He’s got lots of stories to tell, and I wonder if he fully knows what stories are told about him! After hearing recommendations to come here from anyone who has already visited, we then heard that “we must meet Pier.” He just returned from vacation yesterday morning, and made a bee-line to Pandora when he saw our big US ensign flying from the stern. He invited Bob to visit him in his office where he could show Bob the US flag he has displayed on his desk. He used to keep it hidden in his desk, but has recently taken to displaying it.

He also has a photo with Fidel taken decades ago. Pier certainly looks younger, but it’s hard to imagine Fidel getting any older than he is in this photo! Certainly there are no photographs showing a more current Fidel.

Late in the afternoon afternoon we met the Russians, six men who have chartered a catamaran for their yearly vacation together. Everyone brought out their flags for the photo op. It turns out there are rotary clubs in Russia, and Olag Karpeev (the captain on this charter) is president of the International Yachting Fellowship of Rotarians.

Tonight as I write this, they are having some adult beverages (Vodka perhaps) while listening to old American pop music. The BeeGees, I kid you not!

Oh! And I’ve found the perfect souvenir to bring home….a Cuban kitten! Man, the kittens here are adorable! There are a group of cats that hang out near the marina restaurant that remind me of the ¼ ocelot that a friend of mine used to have. Very sleek cats! I wonder if these are the same kind.

She likes Bob a lot.  Maybe she’ll follow us onboard before we leave…

And then there is this tiny new black kitten that would be just perfect for my daughter in law, though I’m certain that Rob thinks they already have too many cats. It’s all a pipe dream anyway, since there is no way I could get these kitties into the US. Too bad for me…

Yesterday we said goodbye to the two charming British men of a certain age, who are sailing an Island Packet 50’ out of Southampton. The owner, Jeremy, has been around the world in this boat, and often in the company of his childhood friend, Richard. Neither one of these men’s wives like to sail, so they often sail the long distances together. Jeremy’s wife may join him later in the spring along the ICW in the US, and perhaps I’ll meet her when they pass through Long Island Sound. Jeremy has invited Bob and me to visit them near Sissinghurst Castle, and when I mentioned I that I been there once with my good friend Lesley, Jeremy replied that I must have seen his large Georgian house ‘right next door.’ Wow…

Also the Swiss couple left yesterday afternoon. When they arrived we could not believe it was the couple who had been the first to look at old Pandora when we put her up for sale last spring. In the end they bought a different Saga, Discovery, owned by a friend of ours. We can’t wait to tell Carl that we saw his Discovery in Cuba. It’s amazing how small the world really is.

This week Lars, on Luna, also has two childhood friends visiting from Norway. We spent an evening together hearing about the two friends’ wives and children, as well as stories from the three men’s childhood together near Oslo. Even their parents are all still friends.

Yesterday evening we invited the young New Zealanders, Garth and Monique from Heatbeat, onboard for drinks. They got married just before leaving for their long voyage, three years ago. They arrived here yesterday afternoon, after a long non-stop sail from Honduras. Garth is 32, and Monique just turned 30 last month. They are the same ages our two sons, so how could I not feel maternal toward this adorable couple? Monique saw me knitting today and told me she has some crochet projects on Hearbeat, and some rope that she’d like to use to crochet containers to sit on their shelves for additional organization. Great idea!

Monique and Garth onboard Pandora last night.

There is a prodigious variety of sea life and island life here along with all the visiting foreign boats. Some of the little cayos nearby are inhabited by iguanos. I found this out quite by surprise when I looked up from gathering shells and found a herd of them in all sizes  coming toward me.  This was the big male.

There is live coral flourishing all the way to the beaches on these little islands. There are large and small conchs all over the beaches and shallow waters, and they are alive, along with the puffy red sea stars. You don’t find that in the Bahamas anymore.

Bob took this wonderful photo of a sea star, and I think I want to use it as one of my small format tapestries for the future.

Right in the marina, if you look into the water around the boats, or up where there bar is on shore, we can see giant tarpin with ramoras swimming nearby. Everywhere there are angel fish, sargeant majors, blue tangs and powder blue tangs, parrot fish. It’s very colorful. The water is so clean and clear. I wonder if all that will change, and how quickly, when American sailors start arriving by en masse in another few years.

The beautiful marina at Cayo Largo.  No wonder Pier is proud of his work.

And Pandora on the dock (she’s the one with the dark green hull) viewed from the bar.

Everyone has listened to me whine about not having talked to my kids in over a month now. Both the Brits and the Kiwis have offered for me to use their satellite phones to call the boys, as long as I can keep it to under 3 minutes! I’m certain I cannot do it. I can imagine myself saying “Hi, it’s Mom….start talking and just GO until you hear me hang up!”  I’m not sure I could be counted on to hang up in the allotted time.

So, although I am still very homesick, it’s incredibly interesting here in Cayo Largo. Bob wants Pier to come to the US this summer and give some talks to various sailing groups. I hope he can make it happen.  And Lars might come up our way….and the Brit, Jeremy…and who knows, maybe even Garth and Monique (the New Zealanders) will get blown off course from their intended voyage to Bermuda and on to Europe and find themselves up the Connecticut River.   Summer could be very interesting…

The last day of March was our last day at anchor in Cienfuegos. We took a road trip to Trinidad! After asking for a bus schedule from the marina office, we were told that there is a bus to Trinidad three times a day: 8.30 am, 1pm, and 3.30pm. We decided to make a day of it and went ashore early to catch that first bus of the day. Not only was the ticket office closed, but also there was no bus to Trinidad until 12.30pm. None of the times we’d been given matched what we found at the bus station. Hmmm…

But there are Cubans who hang out at the station and try to make connections for people needing to get places. Before we were even aware that we were being watched we were put in touch with a driver who had a Cuban family (mother, father, teenage boy and adolescent girl) who also wanted to go to Trinidad. So they crammed in the backseat while Bob and I sat up front with the driver, and we were off! It cost $15 CUCs for us, so it was only a bit more than the bus would have been at $12 CUCs.

It was a beautiful drive too. Still early enough in the morning for cool breezes and low light in the hills all around us. We drove past the Cuban Botanical Gardens, which we learned is quite an impressive collection of plants. I wish we had known about it sooner in order to plan a visit. The area between Cienfuegos and Trinidad has a lot of farming, impressive orchards of mango and bananas and sugar cane fields. Some of the sugarcane was being harvested, not an easy job, and many of the mango trees were laden with fruit. I had no idea how many mangoes can grow on one tree! No wonder there are so many mangoes in the markets.

The most dramatic view we had on the trip to Trinidad was the annual migration of land crabs. We came around a bend to the sight of thousands of red-clawed, blue-bellied creatures completely blocking the road….all moving the same direction—inland from the coast. They were on their way back to their shelters and tunnels after spawning in the sea. I think the journey is several miles. We were behind a bus that was leaving a terrible swath of crushed crabs behind it, and our driver was quite adept at not hitting any crabs. The crabs knew they were in trouble and were all ready for a fight—pincers high in the air, snapping menacingly. They seemed to have no idea that it was not going to be a fair fight against buses and cars. I also have to tell you that the smell of crushed crab is terrible.

This is taken from internet since we did not get a photo of our own.

We’ve since learned that the crabs will scale anything that gets in their way on their journey to the ocean. They can scale houses and cars that happen to be in their path. Bob wanted to stop for a photograph, and the thought of the crabs climbing over our car, or worse, climbing over Bob himself, was beyond unnerving to me. We didn’t do it.

Coming into Trinidad made me forget all about the crabs. It was stunning! Trinidad was founded in 1514, and had a big celebration for their quincentennial in 2014. The city is a Unesco site with good reason. Against the harsh sun the soft pastels of the buildings is quite calming. It was a hot day, but there were plenty of shady spots to retreat and the pretty colors of the buildings were a relief to the eyes. We had started our tour with coffee in a small, sequestered part of the Plaza Mayor. We sat under a large canopy of vines that had interesting fruit hanging from them. I had a bit of a conversation with our waitress and learned that the name of this plant and its fruit is maracuya. It is edible as well as being medicinal. It made a wonderful bower to hide from the mid-morning hot sun.

Then we took a little tour of the central part of this city. And here I found much more evidence of textile handwork. There were lots of female street vendors selling crocheted tops and shawls and table linens done in what I am beginning to recognize as a traditional Cuban style of floral embroidery mixed with pulled thread embroidery.   Handwork was everywhere, including in the local Museo del Arte. I was quite determined to buy a tablecloth and settled on one at the museum. The women who work in that part of the museum were very proud of these tablecloths and we all enjoyed taking them down from the walls to admire the work close up as I tried to settle on which one I would buy.

Here is one street of vendors selling handmade textiles.

A feast of wonderful choices!

(I will admit here that I’m going to give this table cloth to my new daughter in law….I’m certain that she will not see this. She and my son now have our large dining room table and buffet that had been Bob’s grandmother’s from the turn of the 20^th century, but I still have all the linen damask cloths that came with that table. It’s time help them start a new collection of heirloom linens, before they get the original ones at some future point.)

Is this possibly Miss Trinidad posing at the entrance to the Museo de Arte?

We visited the Museo de Aquitectura where the entrance fee is $1 CUC per person, but if you take photographs there is an additional $5 CUC charge. It was an interesting museum, but we did not choose to pay for photography. There was a room of detailed displays on how the heavy mahogany doors were made and how they were hinged. The best part of the museum for me was the inner courtyard, lined in shady plants along the perimeter and in the center filled with about three dozen large urns planted in rose bushes. What a heavenly scene to find such a large collection of roses in bloom! Around the roses were some smaller pots of portulaca and vinca, and I learned that the Cubans call these plants something entirely different, although a rose is still a rosa.

Another inner courtyard in one of the historic buildings.  We had just returned from visiting the rooftop.

Roof top views of Trinidad.

Birds in cages are everywhere.  The cages hang on the outside of private apartments and in the public squares.

School children on a field trip in the Plaza Mayor.

We had lunch in the prettiest spot in all of Trinidad! Who cares about the food in a spot like this?—yet I have to say it one of our best lunches too—shrimp and lobster chunks over pasta, with gazpacho to start, and a mojito and sparkling water. We shared the pasta dish and had more than enough. I hated to leave. All the tables were set with At the table next to us we met a woman traveling alone from Malaysia who was celebrating her 40^th birthday. We all agreed that we had found the prettiest restaurant in all of Trinidad.

We sat on the balcony at the table on the left.  The Malaysian tourist is already sitting at the center table in the photo.

Local color.

In the late afternoon we headed to the bus station hoping to find another shared taxi. It took a bit of doing, but eventually we found a taxi driver who would take us back for $20 CUC, and no sharing. As we passed the area where the crabs had been there was nothing left but the ones who didn’t make it across the road.

Farewell, Cienfuegos, in the early morning light.

The next morning, April 1^st, we left Cienfuegos to sail into the small archipelago of cayos called Cayos de Dios. It promised to be a good day for sailing with reasonably strong wind on the beam. Getting out of Cienfuegos harbor was quite rough for me, and then the sailing was also a bit ‘sporty,’ as Bob would say. So I ended up getting horribly sea sick, worse than I’ve been in decades. The day was not improved when we settled at Cayo Sal, although it was a better choice (read calmer) of anchorage than others along that route. At the end of the day, the wind was mild, from the east, but there was a wrap-around swell coming around the little cay that put all the boats rocking side to side. I was miserable! After a very tiresome night of rolling side to side, the next morning Bob tried putting a bridle on our anchor line and turning the boat sideways to the wind so that we’d be facing into the swell of waves. It was much better, but I never did fully recover.

Sunday (yesterday) we left Cayo Sal to head for Cayo Largo in the larger Archipelago de los Cannarreos. It was a mild sailing day, but I still could not shake my seasickness! I’ve always heard that everyone gets over their sickness after three days at sea, so I was rather disappointed not to shake it off. In the afternoon we chose to come all the way into the marina at Cayo Largo, and I immediately felt better. So, while I didn’t fit the old saying about three days at sea curing my seasickness, I did find another old saying to be quite true: “Nothing cures seasickness like sitting under an apple tree!” No apple trees here, but palm trees make a suitable substitute!

At this moment we are in the lap of luxury. This is a clean and up to date little marina, with lots of tourist amenities on shore. There was some kind of festival last night that I missed because I was just too tired to participate. There are bone-fishing boats here as well as dive and snorkel boats for hire. There are lots of bright white beaches to explore by dinghy. I think we will spend most of the week here. We are plugged in to electricity so we have our air conditioner running for the first time. It was quite wonderful last night, cool and dry, but this morning our electricity keeps shutting off now that more boats have arrived on this dock. I guess the electricity here is not meant for a full house of visitors.

One of the marina employees told us that the white sand here never gets hot, no matter how strong the sun is. We plan to check that out today.

It’s the penultimate day of March, and April is on my mind. I am homesick and a bit under the weather, and I can’t think of anything better than being in Connecticut right now! I’m sure the buds on the daffodils are swelling, along with the buds on the many tulip poplars in the area.

I came down with a cold a few days after our return from Havana. It’s pretty rare for cruisers to get sick, and when we do it’s almost always from having contact with people ashore. I have no idea why cruisers don’t often get sick.

We’ve spent several days walking all over Cienfuegos. One day we walked 8 miles, and two other days we walked between 6 and 7 miles—in terrible heat. So for the past two days I have just stayed onboard working on projects and trying to stay cool. There has been a flotilla of little jellyfish in the harbor, so no swimming. A cold shower in the late afternoon has been quite refreshing. Sometimes we run our Honda generator at night in order to run the air conditioning!  Luckily the people on the boats nearby us have all been taking shore trips and are not onboard listening to the Honda run.

On Sunday afternoon Bob noticed one of the Windjammer schooners from Maine enter the harbor. It’s the Harvey Gamage. They are here looking into ideas for educational programs. Meanwhile, Bob is thinking of ideas to get them to visit Essex.Bob has been onboard a couple of times, and both of us were invited for lunch yesterday. What a galley. That big cast iron stove takes over an hour to preheat. That would be lovely on a chilly morning in Maine, but baking is no fun in the current Cuban heat wave.

The communal dining table where we ate lunch.  That’s a big chest freezer at the bottom of the photo.  We contributed a bottle of coke, a bag of ice and a package of chocolate chip cookies to the lunch.  Not very exciting, but the crew have been missing ice (couldn’t they make a ton of it in that huge freezer?) and American Coke and Keebler cookies.

During our last sail from one of the cays to Cienfuegos I dug out some yarn I’d brought to make a sweater. Before I left home I bought some yarn from the Canadian mail order company Elann.com. They were having an Amazon special on full bags of an Australian merino DK weight yarn that they call Embrace DK. It is processed (superwashed) and spun in China, and it will be a while before I know what I think of that!

Last year I knitted the sweater called “Baby Cables and Big Ones Too,” by a Finnish designer Suvi Simola.

I wanted to wear the sweater against my skin so I last year I bought some Cascade pima cotton yarn that gave the right gauge for this sweater. The sweater is knit from the top down, which means you can try it on as you knit. I did try it on along the way, and I was happy with what I was getting, until I got almost all the way down to the hem. By that point the cotton yarn could not support the weight of itself, and the thing hung on me like a rag. The neck, which is a very pretty raglan rectangle, was distorted by the weight of all that cotton. It was NOT pretty.

So, last fall as I packed up things to put onboard, I ripped the needles out of that sweater and grabbed the bag of Elann Embrace DK. They got stuffed in the back of one of the cabinets on Pandora, and I promptly forgot all about it…until last week.

As we sailed to Cienfuegos I began the sweater. The yarn is soft and the label says it will not pill. The color I chose is Wedgewood blue.   I have now finished the body and have tried it on a couple of times in order to redesign the hem. I like it! I have opted not to make the shaped waistline, but began some increases at the side ‘seams’ (there are no seams since this is knit in the round) to make my version into an A-line shape with little tab openings in garter stitch before doing the garter stitch ‘hem’ at the bottom. I am happy with this look.

Now I am also redesigning the sleeves. The sleeves on the original look long on some of the models, and too-long sleeves are one of my biggest pet peeves. You can’t do anything in a garment with sleeves that are too long. They just get in the way all day long, and get downright disgusting if you try to eat anything…and cooking is impossible. Yes, they always look so feminine on the models wearing these garments, but no one can actually live in clothing with sleeves that droop down your hands.

So I’ll just have to see how the sleeves work out. I’m not planning to do the big long cable on one sleeve. I think I will do a one of the delicate little cables (Cable B, in fact) on both sleeves that should not go much beyond the garter cuff. Since the sleeve is knit in the round from the shoulder down I won’t be dealing with placing the cables until I near the end. The cables on the body are asymmetrical, so I’ve decided to make the sleeves match each other.

Starting the first sleeve:

I haven’t done much else. It’s been too hot to for dragging out my big tapestry loom, but I certainly miss it. My hands are too hot for the tiny manipulations required for tatting. And it’s actually been too hot for the wool yarn I’m using in the sweater, but I have to do something!  Not counting the matching sweaters I made for my sons when they were young, this is the first time I’ve knitted a sweater pattern more than once.

Bob and I are now watching for a weather window to head further west. It looks like Friday and Saturday may be good days for heading out. We will stop in a couple of Cayos on our way to Havana.   Our visas run out during the first week of April and I hope we can get them renewed easily in Cayo Largo.

In case you’re wondering about the private tour bus even more than the Stones (doubtful, I know), I’ll start with a tale from the latter part of our trip to Havana yesterday. We were standing on a triangle in the middle of a busy intersection in Havana, near midnight, when police sirens heralded a motorcade of SUVs coming through. One of these busy streets had been taken over the by the million spectators who’d been at the concert, so it was very difficult for any vehicles to get through on this street….but a police escort did the trick! We are certain it was the Stones—so no tour bus for them.

The private tour bus in the title actually refers to the bus Bob and I took into Havana for this historic event. If you’re like me you are imagining the standard bus you’d take from anywhere in the US—a huge coach with cushy seating, A/C and tv screens for entertainment to pass the time. Not so in Cuba! (Although, in all fairness, they do have those kinds of buses here for foreign tour companies) Our lovely vehicle was a 1952 Ford armored truck, and there wasn’t much in the ‘cushy’ department. Who knows what engine it now had inside, and how long ago the suspension was replaced. The roads in Cuba are in pretty bad shape so whatever suspension we had in that truck was not up to the task!

The trip into Havana was a 5-hour affair and the trip home was about 4. That’s 9 hours of hard bouncing, and I am feeling every bit my age this morning as I begin the recovery from that experience! This tour bus had been equipped with relatively new homemade windows (just a reminder that armored have no windows, in case you hadn’t thought about that type of vehicle from a passenger’s point of view), where the reinforced metal sides of the truck had been cut out and some rustic ‘windows’ had been bolted into the holes. Lovely… and there was even air conditioning, although it was quite humid air and not very cool. There was even a tv screen up at the front of the truck, from which the driver entertained us with hours of Cuban music videos. In a country where the Guarda Frontera searches each arriving boat for pornography, I was a bit shocked by what they deem acceptable. But of course, being an American of Protestant background, I have been a bit sheltered in that area. Nine hours of that was more than enough for the foreseeable future.

We were able to sign on to this bus trip through some people in the marina. There is quite a Norwegian contingent here, and through them we learned of a Norwegian expat who has been living in Cuba for a dozen years (he is not a sailor, and lives in an actual house in Cienfuegos).   He was looking for passengers to fill his bus (only about 6 – 8 people) and we were the only non-Norwegians onboard. Oh yeah, I forgot about the two Cuban girlfriends….they aren’t Norwegian either! But since their trip was underwritten by their Norwegian escorts I still think of it as a Norwegian endeavor. The cost per person for this excursion—round trip—was 20 Cucs. That’s somewhere in the neighborhood of $23 –Not bad, although the accommodation was about what you’d expect for that price. It was a rare experience that quite made up for the roughness!

We left at 9 am, and arrived in Havana about 2pm. I thought we’d be going straight to the stadium, but our Norwegian host did not think that was necessary. He wanted to have a good lunch and a little rest before joining the crowds. He dimissed the two bus drivers and told them to come back the Hotel Comoradora about 6pm. I thought that would be WAY too late for getting anywhere within sight of the stage. But Pier knows a thing or two after living here so long.

The trip to Havana started with breakfast on the bus, supplied by Piers and Alex. Beers all around at 9am. Breakfast of champions— at least for these adventurous Norwegian and Cuban champions! Bob and I abstained although we suffered some teasing for this. By 11am we were making our 2^nd rest stop of the trip…this one at a real snack bar/gas station along the road, as opposed to some of the others stops which involved nothing more than pulling over to a wilderness of cactus and other fauna…the two Cuban women, skipping off lightly into the cactus, in high heels, with their toilet paper in hand. I have mentioned, haven’t I, that it is de riguer to carry toilet paper on your person at all times in Cuba. You certainly won’t find it in many public bathrooms. So the women were already prepared for al fresco rest stops.

Anyway, at our 11 am stop, everyone serendipitously bought big tubes of Pringles in every flavor in stock at the snack shop! It is odd enough that we all chose Pringles since there aren’t many US items in Cuba—but even odder is that there is always a full choice of rum at rest stops and gas stations in Cuba. So, back on the bus/armored truck where Alex jokingly offered a brunch of Pringles with drinks of vodka and some kind of orange soda. I am happy to say I passed on the vodka concoction, but gave in to sharing a tube of Pringles with Bob. He washed it down with a beer. Well, it had to be noon somewhere….

So, I didn’t get a photo of Bob’s brunch, but he did take one of me. Just to be clear, I am holding Bob’s beer so he can take the photo—though I fully admit to taking a couple of sips to wash down those salty chips. (More than a bit embarrassed to share this.)

We had 5 rest stops in all on the trip into Havana, and I think that is the main reason it took 5 hours to get there. Driving through Havana was quite an experience–a fast tour of what we’ll see when we come back the by boat in mid-April. We saw everything from Soviet cement apartment buildings that looked like we’d been dropped into Beirut, to 1960s ‘modern’ architecture that never did much for me, and always reminds of the “Jetsons” cartoon. Some of this architecture has remained in remarkably good shape. I wouldn’t know how unusual this might be since most of it in my part of the US is gone—long gone.

Coming into town we went through a circular intersection where two large buildings dominated the view. One of them had a large depiction of Che Guevara on one windowless side, while other featured the same style depiction of Ayatolla Khomeini. We passed this intersection on our return, and they are even more striking at night, being backlit with blue lights.

The highlight of our quick tour of Havana was Embassy Row. It was the most well kept part of the city that we saw, and the embassies themselves were a treasure trove of Spanish architectural styles, except (no surprise) the Russian Embassy which is the largest embassy here and done in that iconic Soviet 1960s style. The US embassy is not on Embassy Row, and Pier pointed out how to get there when we return. I’m sure we’ll have to start from scratch though as neither of us is good at remembering details on a day full of so many!

We arrived at the Hotel Comodoro, which caters to a Scandinavian clientele, a mix of 1960s modern block hotel and newer Spanish influenced villa type buildings surrounding a pool and various courtyard gardens. The newer section of the hotel was quite pretty. We had lunch under a covered terrace near the pool. Then Pier recommended we all rest for a bit before we went to the stadium. In fact, Pier and his compatriots needed a bit of time to manage their hangovers. They were all quite under the weather. One of the young Cuban girls was really quite ill. None of them were looking quite as put together as they had at 9am.

We spent this rest time trying to skype our children…no luck there…and then checking email. We were trying to find the part of the hotel lobby with the best internet speed. We settled on a long side hallway that we had hoped to avoid because it smelled of decades of cigarette smoke and something else a bit old—a vague mustiness which felt like leftover tropical air from the days before air conditioning. It wasn’t until later, when Bob took a walk outside that he found a completely ruined part of the hotel that was just at the end of the lobby hallway where we’d been sitting. On the other side of that hallway was a completely destroyed part of the hotel that must have been ruined in some kind of storm. It had been some kind of ballroom, but now all the windows were gone and the remains of what was inside had been soaked by high tides ever since. With all the upgrades to this hotel it was quite shocking to stumble on this wreckage. It didn’t happen recently.

Do you, like me, have a mental image of how people dress to go to an outdoor concert? I think my conception of these events stems back to Woodstock and all that has happened since, and must match most people’s who live anywhere in the US or northern Europe. Since you are going to be outside for longer than you can imagine, without much in the way of creature comforts, most of us think it’s best to be as comfortable as possible. However, I have noticed during our years in the Bahamas and now in Cuba, that some women see this as an opportunity to put forth their best ‘Beyonce’ effort. Our two young Cuban companions were dressed to kill, with high heels to boot, and make up that made them both look absolutely flawless. I think they were both younger than my two sons, which meant that I although I could have been their mother, I would have been a bit out of my prime at the time of their births! Their two Norwegian escorts must have been my age or older. No comment there.

Here is our little entourage waiting on for the concert to start. From left to right: Pier, Dione (accent on that final ‘e’), me, Anna, Alex. Lars had left at this point to join some friends for the weekend.

We have had no access to any actual news since leaving the Bahamas, which has been weeks now, so what we have heard about the Stones’ concert is hearsay. We heard that 500,000 people were estimated to come. I figured if you even wanted to see the stage you probably had to arrive at least 24 hours ahead of time. Pier thought arriving about 1 – 1 ½ hours early would be plenty. And he was right. What a shock! There wasn’t any bad traffic when we arrived in Havana, and there still wasn’t at 6.30, when our bus driver delivered us to the stadium. The roads around the stadium were closed to vehicles, but there just weren’t that many vehicles. It was a sea of pedestrians. Now people were saying there were a million people on hand. I wonder when we’ll ever find out what the numbers were.

Our bus let us off right where the roads were closed, so we didn’t even have a long walk to get into the stadium grounds. The stage set up and lights were amazing to me, who hasn’t been to a rock concert in more decades than I’ll admit to here. And back in that distant era they were held indoors and had a finite number of seats available.

We were so much closer to the stage than I would ever have dreamed, so it was quite exciting for me….not that we were close enough to see Mick Jagger’s facial features. But he was about ½” tall, as were the others, and I could clearly tell them apart and watch them move about the stage. I never expected that, given that we didn’t arrive until almost 7pm for an 8pm concert! The video screens were impressive too, and it was great to watch the real performers while also seeing the details on the big screens.

Many people were organizing themselves by nationality by putting up flags. I saw a large American flag at one point, moving through the crowd at stage center, but it then disappeared somewhere else. We were not planning on leaving our bus group since we didn’t want to miss our ride home, so I don’t know how big that group was. I’m sure someone made an attempt to estimate the number of US attendees. Near us was a big Norwegian contingent, and right at the stage was what might have been the biggest foreign group from –the UK, flying a giant Union Jack.

People were climbing poles to get a better view of the stage, and this young man was particularly fun to watch.

And finally there was the concert itself! I loved it…. They opened with “Jumping Jack Flash”—Mick Jagger still skips all over the stage and still appears to have the energy that he had when he was 20-something. Keith Richards can still squat all the way done on his elderly knees, and actually did it several times in a row (to outrageous cheers) just to show that he could. Surely he had cortisone injections recently and then took a little something to numb the pain before the concert. Whatever…it was still amazing! I wonder if they feel as worn out this morning as I do?

I’m sure there are videos all over the internet as I write this, and they’ll do more than any words I can write. It was great to be there, and I can’t wait to see footage of the concert too–although I might not get to do that until I return to the US. I’m so glad we went, even in spite of the challenge of finding our armored truck afterward, which took 2 hours. We got back to Cienfuegos around 3.30, and back onboard at 4am. Neptune smiled down on me by returning me to a calm harbor for that early morning dinghy ride back to Pandora.

Boy, my dogs are barking!  There is a lot of walking to do in this town.  Luckily the harbor where Pandora is anchored, called Punta Gorda, is a ‘short’ walk into Cienfuegos—only about 20 minutes.  However, day after day, that really adds up!  A couple of days we walked between 4 and 5 miles, and one day we walked over 8 miles.  And it’s hot!  Have I mentioned it’s hot??  Bob keeps asking me if I want a sweater. The answer is still YES!  And I want the weather to go with it!

On the first day we found a small shop along the main street in Cienfuegos, where a woman (younger than I am) sells various items of handwork that include crochet and embroidery.  There were embroidered table linens and lots of crocheted sweaters and shawls.  There was a rack of sewn clothing, traditional Cuban guayaberra type shirts for men and some lovely women’s tops embellished with machine sewn tucks and hand embroidery.  It was a small shop, decorated like a living room in a house.  After talking with the owner for a bit we learned it is her house and the shop was most likely her living room.  At one point her elementary school aged son came out from an interior door, wearing a school uniform.  It was late afternoon, she kissed him goodbye, and he was off to some after school activity.  Bob happened to see through the door that there was a bed in that room.

The owner spoke English quite well and we were able to talk about a number of things.  She made some of the crocheted items herself, but many were done by other family members.  They were all lightweight pieces made with fine threads for wearing in the hot climate of Cuba.  The sweaters were all open work that would be worn over a tank top or camisole.  They were really lovely.  The owner—silly me!  I did not get her name—prefers knitting herself, and that launched us on a great conversation because we’ve both been knitting since we were very young.  She can knit carrying the yarn in either hand, as can I, and she can knit in either direction like I can.  I think I’d enjoy knowing her.

We stopped again the next day, when Bob wasn’t so hot, so he could try on some of the guayaberras.  We chose one, and I bought a small table square that had pulled thread embroidery in the center and a nice hemstitched edging.  I would love to have bought more, but there was no more to buy.  I was also hoping to find other handwork shops, but no luck on that!  We passed a window (open shutters, no glazing) where a woman was sitting at a sewing machine, sewing a garment out of white fabric.  Behind her on the back wall of this tiny room there were some traditional Cuban clothing for men and babies hanging on a rack.  She motioned for us to come in, but it felt so cramped in the tiny room that we passed on that.

One day we had lunch in the Palacio de Jagua that is now a government owned restaurant and tourist spot.  Each day I think bus-loads of tourists are brought here for lunch.  We managed to find a table for lunch in between two bus tours.  A palacio is a large, ornate structure where government offices are on the lower floors and a residence for the higher-ranking government official is on the upper floors.  In this palacio the lifestyle was very ornate, Moorish Victorian.  It felt very strange to eat a meal in such a luscious Moorish setting. It felt like eating in a mosque, and that felt rather sacrilegious—even though this building had never beena mosque.  All the lacy cutwork on the walls was plaster.  It is a beautiful space.  The building is about 3 stories tall and there is a terrazzo bar on the roof.  We plan to visit there this evening.

The Palacio de Jagua

This is the entrance to the Palacio

The dining room:

We have tackled buying some food items in the local shops.  We’ve now bought several kinds of bread from a panaderia, and from street vendors on bikes with large boxes of pastries strapped on the back with bungy cords.  Yesterday we had an interesting experience trying to buy cheese and butter.  People kept getting in front of us on the cheese/butter line—at a counter in the back of the shop where cheese and butter are stored.  Finally when there was no one left to get in front of us I asked for ‘queso y mantequilla.’  The man motioned and said in ‘Spanglish’ that we had to pay for cheese and butter in the checkout line before we could get it from him.  Okay….we had waited a long time to get this info, and off we went to wait in the checkout line, where all those people who’d gotten in front of us were now waiting to pay for their cheeses that supposedly they had already paid for.  That did not make sense to me, but when I finally got to the cashier I told her that we wanted a kilo of cheese and a ‘brick’ of butter.  She looked at the empty counter –where are the goods?  I explained that the cheese counter man had told me to pay first.  This started a barrage of angry sounding Spanish between the two—the woman in the front of the store and the cheese man at the back of the store speaking very loudly and forcefully to each other across the space.    Anyway, it turns out that we had to pay for butter before getting it.  Who knows why?  We think maybe it is rationed from the lines we saw in Santiago of people waiting to get butter.  So we payed for the butter, went back to the cheese counter and got the butter and cheese and then went back to the cashier line to pay for the cheese.  Crazy!

We also saw a huge line of Cuban women waiting in front of a women’s clothing shop.  The glass door had a sign that said it was open (apierto), but the line was forming outside and no one was going in.  I think something of great value may have arrived in that shop and they were monitoring how many could enter at one time.  If I could communicate better I would have asked about this.

There is a center park surrounded by a parliament building, a beautiful theater, and church, all dating back to the Victorian era and therefore quite ornate.  It’s been a wonderful few days here, even though my feet are tired.

Here is Bob holding his Essex Yacht Club burgee in the park.

Although this photo is really all about the well preserved Buick (??), the theater is in the background.  We may try to catch a performance here on Easter Sunday of something we simply cannot fathom from the advertisements at the ticket office.

For us, it will be more about being in the space than seeing the performance!

Before walking back to the marina we stopped for a cold drink and listened to local musicians.  The bongo/cow bell player, the mariachi player and the flutist were the singers and they were terrific!  They did a rendition of “Volare” that was fabulous! You can just barely see the string base player behind the bongo player.

We have begun making plans for how to get to Havana by bus or taxi for the Rolling Stones concert.  Hopefully it will all work out and both of us will be writing about that early next week.  We will certainly be among the oldest people there.  If the audience is expected to be around 500,000, I wonder if we will even see the stage.  Wish us luck!

We left the small fishing villages of Chivirico and Marea del Portillo several days ago to head further west to the point of the sourthern coast at Cabo Cruz, and then along the island chain of the Jardines.

Marea del Portillo turned out to be quite different from Chivirico, even though I lumped them together as ‘fishing villages.’ Chivirico had a main street with a park on the beach of the Caribbean Sea. When we arrived on a Sunday afternoon the beach was full of locals, and the small restaurant where we ate was doing a steady business of ‘take out’ even though we were the only ones ‘eating in.’ I should explain that ‘take out’ still meant you got your food on a stoneware plate and your drink in a glass. People took their food and drink to their picnic tables or to their beach blanket and returned them when they finished. Across the street from the beach was a little row of three shops, a Mercado where Monday morning I found a pile of ½ lb. bricks of butter in a refrigerated case and no line waiting to buy them up, an all purpose shop with everything from electric rice cookers to clothing for all ages. The last shop was called ‘Cimex,’ and looked like some kind of office like building.

Marea del Portillo was much, much smaller than Chivirico. There was a main road, but it seemed to be a just a bus stop. And buses seemed to stop there every 15 minutes or so it must have have been a main route to somewhere. There was a row of about 3 or 4 houses, but no shops. We went ashore where all the small fishing boats were tied to poles in a line along the brown sandy beach. There was a horse drawn carriage waiting at the beach and we asked the driver which way to town because the beach was at an intersection of three dirt roads. He told us which was to go, and then motioned to the carriage that he would be willing to drive us. How much? One CUC. Okay…

It was a short ride. He dropped us on the main road in front of the little row of houses, and motioned that the entrance to the one where he had just stopped the carriage was a ‘paladar’ with very good food. It was early afternoon and we decided to eat there in the front garden that had a little tiki type roof over a sitting area. The garden was full of bromeliads and bougainvillea and even a large red rose bush in full bloom! Lunch was delicious! I had small shrimp (peeled) served over a pool of lemon, butter and garlic. Perfect!

We have noticed that the salads served throughout our stops in Cuba are among the prettiest concoctions I have ever seen. We have been leery of eating most of them, but they are quite delectable looking. They are all composed salads, and so far none of them have had lettuce. Mostly we’ve seen a little pile of completely white cabbage, shredded and molded into a dome in the middle of the plate. Surrounding this are little composed lumps of other veggies—consisting of canned beets, canned corn, fresh carrots julienned with a little chopped herb on top. Herbs might be sprinkled over the entire plate with a drizzle of beautiful green olive oil. Sometimes there is no drizzle, but in that case a little cruet holder of oil and vinegar will be on the table. For such simple food, and some of it canned, it is a wonderful display.

When I looked deflated about the lack of food shopping in the town, the carriage driver asked me what we were hoping to buy. I answered ‘huevos y cafe,’ eggs and coffee. He made some kind of reply that made me think he would get them for me while we ate lunch. He was back again almost to the moment when we had finished. I swear these towns-people have some line of communication with each other—and it’s not by phone!

Anyway, he did not have the goods but he offered to drive us to the local hotel (outside of town) where we could get internet. We both wanted to post to our blogs so we took a horse drawn carriage to a hotel to get internet. What a contrast! Check out the sights along the route to get to a modern hotel…

The hotel was considerably bigger than the one we’d encountered up on the hill in Chivirico, and it was again geared mostly to Canadians. It looked like a nice place to escape Canadian winters, although quite rustic. The internet was spotty, and it took me more than half and hour on my limited one hour access just to get connected to my website.

And interestingly, again, our driver showed up just as we finished up using the hotel computer.   The ride back to the beach where our dinghy was tied up was the most interesting part of the whole day ashore. Along the dirt road that led to the beach were some very modest houses. He stopped in front of one and called out to the woman who lived there with her family.

She came out with a well used cartoon of eggs, 13 in all, and a well used plastic container of ground, very black coffee. We asked how much and she said it was her gift to us. She then asked if we had anything she could use—clothing especially, or shoes…for her kids. Well, I don’t have anything on board for children, but since I saw no children I had no idea anyway what size children she meant.   She also sent us with a bag of 8 tomatoes in various stages of ripeness, and sold us a rum bottle full of honey from her bees—for 4 CUC. We felt we’d hit a treasure trove. Back on the boat I dug up what I could to give to her. I hope she can use what I gave her.

And this situation brought up an interesting subject for Bob and me, and generated a long conversation about the value of what she gave us versus what we gave her. I wanted to give her much more than Bob did. We actually had to compromise on what he took back ashore to her. In my mind the value of what she had grown and raised was higher than the value of what we’d bought at Walmart to bring as ‘gifts’ (read tips) to the various officials we’d encounter at each port. In this climate she had worked hard to grow those tomatoes (I haven’t smelled tomatoes with such strong tomato-ness even from my own garden! And they tasted as good as they smelled!), as well as to keep her chickens and keep the bees. Bob, on the other hand, was thinking what it cost us to buy coffee and tomatoes and eggs at home vs. the cost of the t-shirts and the shoes I sent to her (used shoes I might at, but new shirts). I still don’t think that is the way to look at this exchange.

And now I have to add that we have not actually tried the eggs yet, even though we have been out of eggs for some time now and I’ve been craving them. I can’t quite make myself crack one open. I need to face that fear soon. From what we’ve seen, chickens just roam all over the place, and roosters do too. How on earth do they know which eggs are not fertilized? I am quite worried about what I’ll find when I crack an egg, and I’m quite put off by that. Just the though of it has cured my desire for eggs. But we can’t just carry them around for the rest of the trip!

After Marea del Portillo we stopped at Cabo Cruz, with its well known light house used n many guide books.  This is the point where the truly southern coast jogs northward a bit.

This is the point where the scooped out portion of the southern coast begins. It’s really running rather northward at this point and is dotted with lots of cays and reefs. The cays are mostly uninhabited. We stopped at two. There are no harbors here. Like the Bahamas, you just anchor in the lee of an island, in this case with a reef to block the Caribbean Sea from bouncing you around too much. These are not calm anchorages like you get in a real harbor, but they are safe enough and very beautiful.

The first cay where we stopped was suggested by Frank Virgintino in his cruising guide to Cuba. Things have certainly changed since he was here last! The cay is a very small island with a coral reef running along one side of it. The entire perimeter of this little cay was surrounded by dead mangroves. It is beautiful in a desolate sort of way, but I know that is not why Frank recommended it in his guide. Bob and I think that a hurricane must have done all this damage here, after Frank’s visit. There were some stunning frigate birds all around us, and a small hawk or falcon perched in a large dead mangrove, and a large osprey. It was a lovely spot, until the sun went down, and then, in spite of being quite far from shore, we were inundated with no-seeums. And I mean inundated.

We put up our screens as soon as we noticed them, and we have very fine screens. But it was too late. Bob fought them off and on until we went to bed, but it wasn’t until the next morning that we realized the extent of the inundation. I am covered in bites everywhere that I didn’t have clothing. And since it was hot I didn’t have much on that night. I wonder when the itching will stop. Right now I can’t quite make it 24 hours on an antihistamine. The next morning we found a blanket of grey on all the ceilings of our cabin, the entire kitchen counter, and in the shower. It had to be 10,000 no-seeums. It took two days to finally win the battle. There are still a handful onboard, but hopefully their life cycle is short.

We spent the next night off another small cay, and we anchored even further from shore. Bob took a quick trip ashore in the early evening after we’d settled in. He found one small open air hut on the island where a single man was living. The island was overrun with iguanas, hermit crabs, and hootias (sp?—the little rodents that are causing such a problem in the Bahamas’ Land and Sea Park). The man in the shack with no walls runs a snack bar on this island, but I’d like to know who could possibly imagine eating something cooked by a man who doesn’t seem to have had a shower in decades and lives with nothing but the fresh water he can collect and the amount of electricity he can generate from the solar panels on his roof. No thank you!

This morning we awoke in the next big town of our journey: Cienfuegos. It is a beautiful city! It was built much later than Santiago de Cuba, and has mostly Victorian looking buildings that we can see from the shore. The ‘yacht club’ is an amazing Victorian mansion that I’m looking forward to visiting as soon as we go ashore. It is a short walk to downtown Cienfuegos. We’ll head in shortly.

It was a long day getting here yesterday. Chris Parker predicted a cold front with very strong northwest winds that would arrive late yesterday, but it arrived a good 12 hours earlier and so made for a very rough passage to windward. The wind was sustained in the high 20s (mph) with gusts over 30 mps on a regular basis. I was quite seasick most of the day. It took us about 8 hours to get there and I was so thankful to get into a calm harbor!

This is the sign that greets you as you enter the harbor.  Welcome to Socialist Cuba! Can you see the big search light just in front of the word “Cuba?”  Quite cold war looking…

Luna, whom we last saw in Chivirico,  arrived last evening, at dusk. I know Lars is going to leave his boat here and take a bus up to Havana to see the Stones concert. I have thought and thought how we might do the same—in a civilized manner!  Lars is not nearly as concerned with creature comforts as I am! I would love to see President Obama even more than the Stones, but I don’t think there is a solution! I want to take an air conditioned vehicle (not possible), and then stay in a 4-star hotel in Havana (also not possible with no internet to find one and little likelihood of one having rooms at this point since there are very few of them). I can’t believe we are here at such an auspicious time, with no way to get our own boat there in time.

Sailing  is such a slow mode of transportation!  But I’ve just learned that the Stones concert has been postponed in order not to conflict with Obama’s visit.  This is probably old news to anyone reading this because you certainly have more access to news than we do!