The bus trip from Vinales, southwest of Habana, to Cienfuegos, near the center of the island on the southern shore, was going to take at least six hours of drive time.  Fortunately, we had several stops and the day was of conversation about Cuban history (since Castro’s Revolution) and culture.

The highway was desolate.  Miles pass without seeing any other motorized vehicle.

In the morning we watched a documentary on the bus about Fidel that was made by Americans. It featured many American notables such as former US Attorney General, Ramsey Clark, giving what seemed to be a balanced view of what the Revolucion was about.  In a way, Fidel’s Revolucion felt like an early version of the “anti 1%” activity that occurred briefly in the States in 2014/15 and then was squelched. (Yes, Cubans call their President Fidel, not President Castro)

No question that former Cuban President Batista was a bad boy. It was said during his reign that the U.S. ambassador to Cuba had more power than Batista. Worse, however, was the mafia control of gambling, wealth and industry and the blatant disregard for the average Cuban.

My take away from the documentary was that the United States and Cuban governments allowed dogma and the threat of communism to blind them from clear decision-making in establishing diplomatic relations. Fidel spent much of his time in the United States after the revolution trying to raise money for his island country that, for the first time in its history, was actually being governed by Cubans instead of monarchs from other, primarily European, countries.

After stopping for lunch in a unusual property which seemed to also be a massive petting zoo with buffalo, peacocks and other assorted animals scattered throughout the property, we arrived at the Korimakao Cultural Center.

The Korimakao Cultural Center  in Cinega de Zapata was established by Fidel as a Center where artists could develop their talents. These are young students who are not good enough for the university or for immediate employment in the cabarets or dance and performing troops, so the center is where they can hone their skills.

It is a modest campus of one-story white stucco buildings. There was no air conditioning in any of the buildings we visited and the dormitory restrooms were quite rustic and odorous.

The studios were rooms with open windows and plywood floors that were elevated on two by six beams to provide some measure of flexibility when jumping, especially for the dancers. The first performance presented to our small group was of two male dancers in a lovers quarrel complete with angst, anger and ultimate forgiveness and love.

The two young male dancers were quite earnest in their originally choreographed performance. Though homosexuality has been legal in Cuba since the 1970s, there is still much discrimination and bias against the LBGT Community. It seemed these Male dancers in their early 20s were trying to show how progressive their country was with their slightly homo-erotic performance.

We then watched a couple more performances from the full dance troupe and then listened to an acappella choir.

While there was definitely talent among these young students, it very much felt like a typical high school performance one would see in the United States. Their professional fate was probably no different than the thousands of young artists who pursue Broadway or Hollywood or other artistic venues. Some will make it, most will not.

More driving until we reached Playa Giron, better known as the Bay of Pigs. We stopped along the highway at a location designed just for people like us to swim in the sea or jump into a cenote.

The cenote was located deeper into the jungle down a winding path past the restrooms where we could change into our swimsuits. The cenote looked like a fetid,  mosquito-infested black pool. We all opted for the sea instead.

There was no beach. Instead there was an abrupt drop into deep waters.

“No wonder we lost in the bay of pigs invasion,” said my husband looking at the deepwater.

“Yes, many Cubans have wondered why the Americans selected the southern part of the island to attempt an invasion by sea here. It’s just too deep and there is no easy way onto the land,” said our guide. “Our northern shores are beautiful sandy beaches that can easily be approached by sea.”

Hmmm…

The road between Playa Giron and Cienfuegos contained more billboards with Revolutionary images and slogans than we had seen in any other part of Cuba. Even former Venezuelan dictator, Hugo Chavez, has a notable presence exclaiming the virtues of revolution.(Hmmm, again, given the ruined economic state of Venezuela today)

Cienfuegos is known as the “Pearl of the south.”

It is the largest city we have been near since we left Habana. I immediately noticed how many people seemed to be in their teens and 20s. This is a much younger and more cosmopolitan community than anywhere we have been so far on the island.

Our Casa Particulare was the most luxurious so far. The property was pristine in it’s mosaic tile floors and decor. The second floor balcony was designed for guests to lounge and enjoy the sunset. Our rooms were decorated in bright colored silk sheets and curtains.  Our towels were shaped into swans sitting on top of our beds.

With umbrella in hand, I asked our proprietress, “Lluvia?”. She shook her head no and so I took the umbrella back to my room before boarding the bus to go across town for dinner.

A monsoon struck the town just as we walked into the restaurant. The rain was so heavy that the drainage system began to back up flooding the restaurant. We continued to eat out od respect for the owners and staff who were working so hard to mop and sweep the rising tide out the kitchen door. We simply propped our feet upon the rails of our chairs to not get wet.

It made for fun conversation and great camaraderie with the restaurant staff.