Matanzas

This past weekend was my first excursion outside of Havana. All things considered, the trip was a success. We (Anna, Celine, Gloria, and I) decided on Matanzas because of the allure of taking the old electric Hersey train and because it is only 100km from the city, a manageable distance to navigate back in time for Mondays class pending disaster.

Mr. Hershey (of Hershey PA… home to one of my favorite childhood amusement parks since it was based on entirely chocolate) built the railway to connect Havana, his massive estate and sugar plantation, and Matanzas. Our 5 hour ride lived up to the description in the Lonely Planet Cuba guidebook: “It’s a scenic trip if you are not in a hurry.” As soon as we left Havana the landscape morphed into the picture I have had in my head of Cuba, lush palm littered valleys interrupted with small towns. Looking out the window I finally saw the barefoot kids running down dusty dirt roads, stretches of patchwork farmland, and colorful laundry hanging from lines stretched between sets of thatched roof huts. There are an innumerable amount of small towns along the way with simple concrete slab train stations patriotically decorated with murals of Che and Jose Marti. I couldn’t figure out any sort of logical system that would explain why we blew by some stops and stopped at others. I suppose that doesn’t matter since our stop was the end of the line. Most of the other passengers were Cubans who all got a kick out of me snapping pictures out the window almost constantly. The 2.80 Cuban Pesos (or 11 cents USD) I paid for my ticket was a great investment. Each bum busting bump, mechanical breakdown, and delay due to goat crossings added more of the Cuban character I was hoping to find.

Matanzas was once the cultural center of Cuba. Built with money from a booming sugar and coffee industry communities of white intellectuals and freed slaves flourished. It is where the Cuban Danzon was first performed and also the “spiritual home” of rumba beats due to the large number of Santeria cabildos. Today, it is a city full of slowly crumbling but beautiful old buildings, museums, and historical parks. It’s situated halfway between Havana and Varadero (one of the largest resorts in the Caribbean) so most people just roll trough Matanzas on their air-conditioned tour buses. Two rivers run through the center of the city and others flank the boarders. It is known as the “city of bridges” of Cuba, yet another reason why it made sense for us Pittsburghers to visit. I am, however, still partial to the rivers in and around the ‘burgh.

After again consulting our handy dandy Lonely Planet guidebook, we settled on exploring the Rio Canimar. We walked to the base of one of the 21 bridges to a dock area where we were presented with an assortment of possible boats to rent. I immediately spotted a stack of kayaks. My overwhelming feeling of happiness immediately ended when I had a closer look at the boats and saw that there was no way any of the 7 brittle sun bleached boats would even float. After negotiating prices, we decided on a small motor boat which we rented for an hour. The four of us climbed aboard ignoring the XXXL PFD’s that would literally fall off as soon as any of us hit the water. Besides, who wants a PFD tan line? We assumed this was going to be a guided trip, but after 10 words of instruction, “clutch in push forward pull backwards stay in the middle” we were off on our own. It was magnificent to be surrounded by mangroves and birds instead of concrete and diesel fumes. After a hesitant first few minutes pulling away from the dock in front of an audience, I hit the gas full speed. Once we rounded the first corner and were out of eyeshot of the dock, the only other people we saw during our hour foray into the ‘Cuban wilderness’ were a group of fisherman on the shore and a guy on an obviously self made raft made from only half inflated inner tubes, wood scraps, and twine. The disproportionally loud roar of our 25 horsepower motor made it difficult to spot wildlife, but the scenery (and the truly Cuban style randomness of this adventure) was enough to keep an ear to ear smile plastered to my face.

Back in town it was time to appease the science nerd in me with a visit to the Museo Farmaceutico (Pharmacy Museum). Founded in 1882 by a frenchman named Triolett, this pharmacy was the first of its kind in Latin America. It was open for almost 100 years until 1964 when it closed and was turned into a museum. All of the original equipment is on display. Hand carved cabinets house labeled glass jars of various medications, cast iron molds used to make pills by hand, a stove area with copper vats and huge distillers, glass syringes (thank god for modern medicine), cases of hand written prescription receipts, marble mortar and pestles, and countless other interesting and odd things. We had an amazing tour guide who could explain almost every item in the museum. She was also incredibly patient, spoke slow enough for all of us to understand, and entertained all of our poorly articulated questions as we practiced our Spanish.

Navigating the bus back to Havana was not as smooth as the rest of the trip. Once we made it on the right bus the road followed the coast and it was quite pleasant. To say there was confusion during our attempt to purchase bus tickets is an understatement. The dual currency system, our status as students not tourists, the illogical bus route and pricing systems, and our obviously American accents made it impossible to get a straight answer out of anyone. This issue is a post (or more likely a rant) for another time…

It was extraordinarily refreshing to get out of Havana. There are so many other places I am planning to explore: Vinales, Pinar del Rio, Zapata Peninsula, Trinidad, Island of Youth, Santiago de Cuba, Baracoa, and hopefully some others.