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2002-03-21-trinidad-cuba.md (4196B)


      1 +++
      2 title = "Trinidad, Sancti Spiritus, Cuba"
      3 date = "2002-03-21T00:00:00Z"
      4 slug = "trinidad-sancti-spiritus-cuba"
      5 tags = ["Cuba", "Travel"]
      6 +++
      7 
      8 Looking down on the ocean from the rolling hills a kilometre away, Trinidad is
      9 a small, traditional town whose population of 50,000 takes great pride in its
     10 home. Founded by Diego Velásquez in 1514, Trinidad became a stopover for
     11 explorers and trading ships travelling to and from México. During the 17th and
     12 18th centuries, its economy largely depended on trading contraband with
     13 pirates. The buildings are in incredibly good shape for their age, most of
     14 which are at least two centuries old. It’s not too tough to see why Trinidad is
     15 now a UNESCO World Heritage Site.
     16 
     17 {{< figure src="/post/2002-03-21-trinidad-street.jpg"
     18     alt="Street in Trinidad, Cuba" >}}
     19 
     20 Trinidad is about five hours from Havana by bus, and as with everything in
     21 Cuba, there are two buses: one for Cubans, with a several hour long line-up,
     22 and one for people with dollars, with basically no wait at all. Upon pulling
     23 into Trinidad the bus was swarmed by masses of locals offering a room in a casa
     24 particular. We ended up being shown one house, but it had been freshly painted
     25 that afternoon and the fumes were pretty rough, so we set out wandering down
     26 the streets in the dark. By sheer chance, we ran into an old grandfather
     27 carrying a bucket and pushing his bike up the rickety cobblestone streets and
     28 when we asked him if he knew of any places to stay he said that in fact, we
     29 could stay at his house. This is how our planned two-night stay in Trinidad
     30 ended up turning into a week-long stay in paradise.
     31 
     32 Roberto and Elda, their daughter Mercedes, her husband Eddy, and their
     33 11-year-old son Saúl made our stay in Trinidad one of the most relaxing visits
     34 we had to anywhere in our travels. We would have breakfast every morning in a
     35 little courtyard off to the side of the house, spend the mornings wandering the
     36 cobblestone streets in search of pizza, and the evenings falling asleep to the
     37 sound of Cuban salsas, merengues, and cha cha chas drifting through the window
     38 from La Casa de la Trova across the street.
     39 
     40 {{< figure src="/post/2002-03-21-horse-cart.jpg"
     41     alt="Horse-drawn cart driven by man and boy in Trinidad street" >}}
     42 
     43 While most of the old town is centered around the main plaza, cathedral, and
     44 clock tower, most of the action seemed to center around the plaza in the newer
     45 part of town down the hill. Old men sitting on park benches sharing a bottle of
     46 rum, school children eating peso ice cream, and the occasional black market
     47 cigar salesman trying to pass off some cigars smuggled out of the local factory
     48 all milled about the plaza in the hot, sticky heat. A bunch of us sat on our
     49 park bench watching the old men on the bench across from us get progressively
     50 more drunk from their homebrew, before eventually falling asleep. One thing
     51 that anyone visiting Cuba can be assured of is eventually being offered a taste
     52 of homemade rum. My guess is that neither the recipe nor the distilling of this
     53 rum has changed much over the past few centuries, so you can be assured that
     54 your experience will be as blindingly nerve-wracking as that of the colonial
     55 sailors plying the waters of the Caribbean in the 1600s. Following the initial
     56 jolt of fermented cane sugar hitting your stomach like a rock is the slow
     57 nauseating feeling of vertigo creeping over your body; after that, a strange
     58 queasiness, and finally recovery and swearing it off for life... or at least
     59 the next day.
     60 
     61 A few days into our stay in Trinidad, as we walked down a dark street off the
     62 plaza, we heard music pouring out through a half-open gate. Peering inside we
     63 were greeted with the sight of thirty or so people packed into a small dirt
     64 courtyard, and a small band of grizzled 80-year-old men playing salsas on their
     65 guitars and trumpets. People had pulled up some old wooden benches and were
     66 serving mojitos made (I swear) straight rum, some sugar, and crushed mint. A
     67 woman named Blanquita invited us in, offered us some mojitos and yanked us up
     68 off the bench to teach us some salsa while chickens scuttled around our feet.
     69 It was probably my most vivid memory of Cuba.