And Then We Were Gone

Just makes for a better 5 year plan! We'll just have to come visit you guys.

Back to Peru




The border is about 5 minutes from Copacabana. I put my rain gear on while Deya cleared us out of Bolivia. About 100 metres from the customs building was a stone arch bridging the road into Peru, an easy marker if your not sure where to go. My rain gear is neon yellow with reflective strips, the bright kind that makes you squint when you look at it and wonder if it will ever stop. It also has the effect of drawing locals like moths to a flame. People would walk right up to me and touch me as though they didn’t have any self control, some would just stand and stare. Many would ask me to give them the gear and seemed a little surprised when I’d say no. After all, it was about to rain and I could probably use my own gear, couldn’t I?


What bugs me about situations like that is the presumption that money is pulled out of thin air. What have these people seen that makes them think that? I’ve even had people ask if I can give them my bike then I can just get a new one, bizarre but they are totally serious.

Two hundred metres past the arch is the Peruvian Customs. There were a lot of tourists getting dropped off by the bus load to walk up the hill into Bolivia and over to Copacabana. The process for checking in was standard, except this time the final check was with the police and they tried to get some graft.

The Peruvian police at the border all have the same look, fat with squinting eyes that measure every opportunity to squeeze you of your loose change. If you hang out at any of the borders you’ll actually get to see it happen, it’s pathetic. It would be really something to see a secure border around here.

Deya threw her usual smoke grenade and we left without having to pay, as it should be. We had to promise the Customs agent we would get the insurance (SOAT) at the next town because it wasn’t available at the border, he was agreeable. You can get it online with Peruvian identification but of course that excludes us.

The first thing I noticed about this region of Peru is that it is much nicer to travel though than the coast. Once we entered Puno we started the search for insurance, so we could keep our word to the customs official who let us through. We found it but they wanted to charge us $80 USD each for the same insurance that we just paid $35 USD for on our way through. We sorted that out and they gave us reasonable excuses but really I bet it was a bit of a scam. We spent the night in Puno and ate at Rico’s Pan, a fantastic bakery and my new hobby, eating good pastries. Puno was a nice town and it would have been nice to stay for a couple of days but with our new insurance in hand we had to make tracks.

The valley leading into Cusco is absolutely beautiful, better than I had imagined. But first we had to transit through a messy and chaotic city of Juliaca (hoolee-acca). The bonus was we no longer had problems finding fuel, 90 octane was everywhere. As we cruised easily through the valley we were about to pass the village of Sicuani. Below the road, by the rivers banks, were a couple dozen alpaca skins laid out to dry in the sun. We stopped to see if we could buy one, unfortunately these skins were not yet cured but the gentleman pointed us into town where we could likely find a cured pelt. This was an exciting moment because these things are surprisingly hard to find.

We found a shop in town and acquired two pelts, a young one and a mature one. Total cost was 60 Soles for both! We had been offered up to 400 Soles for a pelt half the size as the young one and in poor condition. Awesome! The young pelts are extremely soft and typically made into hats and slippers for tourists while the older ones are more like a sheep skin and not as desirable. I didn’t realize there was a difference from young to old and was a little saddened to learn that the young alpaca are only killed for the tourists. While the young pelt is beautiful I personally covet the older pelt for what it represents, its strength, warmth and durability.

We left happy and headed into Cusco to stay at the ‘Guest House Estrellita’, recommended by some French cyclists we met on route. The location was a win, cheap, comfortable and right down town. It attracts a lot of motorcyclists and cyclists so the company was first class and the tips and stories never ended.

It was in Cusco that I really realized just how cool Peru is, the people, the food, all excellent. Tremendous variety and ease of walking around this city makes it a good destination. It was busy and I could imagine it as pretty crazy during high season, yet the place has a nice feel to it and scenery is grand. But it is not just the city with its small shops and great prices, it’s the surrounding villages with cool adobe homes and beautiful settings.

We had decided to take the train to Machu Picchu, logistically we just couldn’t figure out how to get to the site and secure the bikes. After checking some of the several hundred tour agencies we realized that it was easier and less risky to just arrange the trip ourselves, it would also save us about 100 bucks (25%). We also got a better train ride and were able to credit card the entire thing, which is insured. The train ride was really nice and relaxing. We met a lovely young couple from Chile and talked the entire trip. I ruthlessly promoted Canada as a place to work and live, I do this whenever I meet educated young people trying to build themselves and their careers; I just can’t help myself. Canada always gives back whatever you put in, usually in multiples.

Deya arranged lodging for 70 Soles (about 25 USD) using her sing song Spanish and when we arrived we noticed that the foreign tourists where paying 70 USD….wow, ripped off. The town of Aguas Calientes, at the base of Machu Picchu, is a really cool little tourist trap. We were on a time frame so headed for the hill as soon as we were booked in.

Machu Picchu, the area is beautiful; to me it is the kind of location that makes sense to build a fort of some kind. It would be easily defended and could survive a siege, I’m sure. Other than that I was more impressed with the geography and the cool little towns of the area. We finished our tour and headed back to find some dinner; we were looking for a restaurant recommended to us called El Indio Feliz.

A French owner was present, the food was first class and while the price was considered high it was excellent value for your money. During the dinner a tour guide, pretty young female, was having drinks on the house. She was asked to produce a voucher to prove she was a real guide instead she brushed it off saying she would get it later. Turns out she had done this several times before, our French host stepped in. What made the upcoming drama so funny was that the host was really drunk. There was drama, some barely controlled arguments and a few flying utensils. The ‘guide’ ejected herself and all was quiet.

After that we chatted with this fellow, an entertaining character to say the least. Though he eventually disappeared he made sure to invite us for many drinks on the house, maybe to make up for the drama that occurred in front of our table. Regardless, Deya held me up as we staggered back to our hotel room, the night being a total success with great food and entertainment. I’d go back.

(A couple from Japan we met who have been peddling for three years)

After our departure from Cusco the scenery never lacked, the valley got more beautiful and as we headed towards Nasca on the coast, the road became magical. If it was possible to get rid of the uneducated drivers that don’t know what a double yellow is for, or for that matter which side of the road they should be on, then I would place the route at the top of my favourite rides. If I had a sport bike and no traffic I might never have left, it almost brought a tear to my eyes. Unfortunately the riding style we’ve had to adopt is going very slow around corners with the horn blaring; it has saved our bacon on several occasions now.

Once we hit the coast it was same-same but not different, since we were now officially backtracking. Our destination was Asia, where if you recall we were greeted by Carmelo and the Canadian Cody. We would also see Kai and Annette there eventually and get to spend some time with Carmelo’s family. I love these kinds of things because it’s the connection with people that seems to be bigger and more important than a moment in a corner or a beautiful vista but it’s the ride that lets us reflect on these critical events in our lives.

I can’t explain exactly the feeling and comfort of being with family during our days there and being able to share with them my birthday and Carmelo & Cathy’s 35 Wedding Anniversary. It was simply fantastic and the whole family are brilliant and fun people. My best wishes for them for every moment they share.

We left, I, excited to be riding, Deya, in tears. It’s funny for me because I know how Deya feels about people but it must be uncomfortable for the people with tear stained shoulders, either way it is lovely. Our new destination would be back to the beautiful mountains and Huaraz before heading once again to the coast and North to Colombia.

A few good friends




I grew up in a small community, seemingly, in the woods. I played sports, broke bones, got in trouble, got kicked off the bus and generally did most of the things that other kids did. Of course I went through the stages of life that everybody else goes through, though some challenges make you grow faster than others. Regardless, I was a bit of a loner and had very few friends as a kid. Friends were never something that I needed or sought after, I never liked crowds or attention and the truth be told my growth was consumed with a disappointment in the human race. Very little value did I hold for those things I saw that were not worthy of a higher intelligence and people through my youth, for the most part, seemed more like simple animals than anything else.


Leaving Asia and our good pals was a breeze for me but as I mentioned Deya didn’t want to go, she wasn’t ready. I’m always ready though and one of my great pleasures is to get on my bike and ride off into the distance. It’s where I belong, as an individual or a loner maybe; happiness can be found in the uninterrupted drone of the helmet.





We headed South from our friends’ place riding with Kai and Annette to the highway to see them off. I did this because I thought it would help Deya break the cord a little easier, because it’s a nice gesture, but mostly because I love to watch the ‘Duck’ move; it’s a cool machine. As we approached the road Kai said he had to go into town to get fuel, oops, so we had to head North anyways, the problem was the road we were on was one way only and the traffic does not slow down much. The highway was divided, separated by a sandy trench about 3 metres across, maybe a half metre deep. Deya and I turned around to go back the way we had come and I laughed as I saw the Duck burst across the road and enter the ditch emerging on the other side like a soldier advancing out of a trench during a charge. I opened my helmet up and said to Deya, “That’s why they’re the veteran travellers here!” We passed them at the gas station two minutes later and shared a good-bye wave.


I wonder sometimes about media, I know the media is notorious for its promotion of foul news. We blame the media for this and so we should but how much are we to blame and is blame really necessary? My years as a teenager only strengthened my resolve that the only real sin is having faith in the words and writings of men; the same weak creatures who speak from the side of their mouths about righteousness but behave with less honour than street dogs. There were good people in my life but I couldn’t recognize them, I was consumed. The world became a dangerous place that needed defeating and with so much foul news and the impressions of a few dummies this ideology was for me confirmed.

Our first challenge of the day would be to successfully get passed Lima, a city of millions and that means a multitude of bad drivers, we failed. Of course as we entered the city we missed the poorly signed turn for the bypass and were taken into the heart of the city. We’ve been in worse cities and this wasn’t so bad just frustrating that we were going to spend an hour an a half extra to navigate our way out. The streets narrowed and we were following the GPS to twist our way through this labyrinth of streets, cars, people and dogs. We drove against traffic a couple of times on one way streets, too much confusion, confident only in that we were following local drivers doing the same.

In the heart of a sketchy looking neighbourhood with a cop on every other corner I was contacted by a cab. The street narrowed to one lane but that didn’t prevent two cars in the same lane. The traffic was not moving and as we waited for the intersection to clear, Deya in the lead, a white cab pulled up on my left. The cab had three occupants and the driver was an older looking character in about as good condition as his beat up car. The driver was trying to make a right turn so the reason why he had chosen to come up on my left was a mystery soon to be resolved. He pulled himself up on top of the steering wheel for a better look and began inching his way right. I had nowhere to go so as the traffic began to advance I did too. The weird part was that instead of following Deya I was now going right, the old bastard was pushing me, his bumper against my pannier. I accelerated ahead and off the front right bumper leaving a mark, he continued right and up the street. Cops turned their heads, passengers shrugged and I raged silently. I like to remind myself that discretion is the better part of valour but the cabby played a dangerous game that could have resulted in a violent shaking or a quick bitch slapping. I’m glad now that didn’t happen.

We made it out of town and were exhausted by the effort. It’s hard to describe the mental effort required to manage chaos in an organized mind and I laugh to think of Carmelo’s advice, “Be like the fish, they never bump into each other.” I can’t do it but it’s funny as anything to think of me like that. As we travelled North our plan was to visit a little place just off our path on the beach that Carmelo had recommended. Unfortunately the extra time in Lima had eaten up both our schedule and our will, so we got to our turn off and headed East to Huaraz.

The road was good and it was nice to get off the Panamerican. I was happy to be off the Panamerican and into the mountains again but in my mind I was wishing to skip the sightseeing and carry onto our objective of getting North. Despite the feelings we enjoyed the route stopping for a break in a little community along the way. We parked the bikes across the street from a small shop and went over for a coffee.


The shop served a really good coffee and afforded a street view. People walked up and down the street, there were only a few and it was the same people strolling but that’s a small town, a guy laid under his truck seemingly working on something underneath. As we chatted with the shop’s owner a motorbike went slowly by. I told Deya he had plates from British Columbia and the whistling started. First, Deya yelled at the guy, then the shop’s owner started whistling and the chorus of whistling carried on down the street and out of sight. I couldn’t imagine a radio being as effective and it was only a matter of moments that the rider returned after being directed back. We invited him to sit with us for a coffee and he obliged.

Ben came from England and bought the bike, a KLR 650, in Abbotsford B.C. and had learned to ride at that time. Now he had made it to Peru, what a champ! We swapped a few stories, knew some of the same people and places and generally had a nice time. It’s moments like these that remind you that you’re not alone in your crazy ways. By the way Ben thanks for the heads up on the oil slick 20 kilometres ahead, it was as bad as it looked and would have been a real shocker if we didn’t know it was coming.

As we were about to leave a couple local fellows pulled up on KTM adventures, out for an afternoon ride. We parted ways and headed into Huaraz.

Neither Deya nor I liked the city when we entered. At our very first stop, while Deya was inside checking prices, I was approached by a drunk. Despite my lack of Spanish he blithered on trying to get us to go with him somewhere for food or something. Then he tried to get his drunken buddies to come out of a nearby pub to look at our bikes. The guy seemed friendly enough but the situation was getting tenuous and needed to change. As always the best way to defeat 47 ninjas in a dark alley is to not go into the dark alley. I stepped inside to tell Deya that we needed to depart immediately because of the danger outside. The guy was trying to collect his friends. He came back out running when he saw us trying to leave and approached Deya, I signalled to the guy and when he turned to me Deya took off. I started to go and he jumped out grabbing my right arm and handle bars. The effect was startling as I realized just how easily it would be to throw a rider off his bike as the bike nearly came down on both of us. He was rambling, apparently unaware of his own violent stupidity and I shouted, “No, No, No!” and gave him a five finger poke into the left pectoral. The effect was that he stepped back, letting go of the bike and my arm as the pain from the pressure point seized him into a moment of confusion. I took my chance to leave; as I looked back he walked up the hill behind us with an odd mixture of emotions on his face: confusion, angst, regret, maybe others. I’m not sure what his final message was but that’s not for me to figure out. Our first experience in Huaraz, not good.

It’s not that I assumed people to be bad; I just had a very low tolerance for those that just follow the carrot in front of their noses because that’s just what simple animals do. We’re all guilty of it on occasion but are we all accountable for it? It was this thought process that led me to joining the Army. I wanted to do my part, reduce the numbers so to speak and if I should be one of those numbers then, that too would be okay. It became an experience that would not change my life but it would change the way I looked at things, at people. It would eventually lead me here and teach me that most people are actually really good, to which we now have countless examples to refer to, with no end in sight. I have learned something that I only hope the carrot in front of my nose doesn’t blind or distract me from, something that I can silently share.

Leaving Lima




Huaraz wasn’t working out for us so after an uneventful evening we decided to head back to the coast the next morning and back on track North. It was only 14 kilometres out when the ‘A dog and his broken bones’ event occurred. Back in the hospital we had a long wait. Deya would spend most of the next three days running around sorting out paperwork and arranging for our return to Lima. This process will be described in better detail by Deya later. One of the first people Deya called was Carmelo, we weren’t sure where to go and had no local contacts so Carmelo seemed like the most intelligent choice. The response was overwhelming, Carmelo wanted to do a full airborne assault, parachuting in and riding the wounded Chuleta out with the full family convoy following up in the rear. Nice thought but not the right idea, instead we were directed to come and stay with the family at the beach house until we could get our logistics sorted out. This would turn out to be fantastic.



I don’t want to sound like a complainer in regards to the medical services but I do want to point out some observations that are less about capital resources and more about training. At no time was there any first responder, first aid or emergency medical services. No assessment was made as to the condition of my spine, neck, knee or crushed foot. They put gauze on my foot but that was it. The staff was friendly but medical care was lacking, wounds were not re-dressed or cleaned, old gauze was not replaced, shoulder support was not properly applied, etc. How do I know how things should be done? Well I seem to be very familiar with crashing, it’s my third busted shoulder and second broken wrist among many other injuries, I’ve also been a first aider, levels I and II, for over a decade and have seen some stuff.


Here is the simple truth, it wasn’t bad but if you’re from a developed nation the difference is vast, in fact too vast. It’s like I said the training is lacking; training is probably one of the easiest things to manage with the biggest payback if a society is interested in people’s development. If that was a rant then it’s done.


While in Huaraz one of the ladies, Hilda, who called the police at the scene, helped us out with storing the bikes and with a place to stay before we shipped the bikes to Lima. The first round of budget wreckers was about to occur. The bikes would go to a bus terminal where we would arrive. It would be an all night journey and then many hours of waiting to unload the bikes. At that point I still struggled with trying to stand or sit so Deya had a full schedule.






Deya had asked the BMW dealer in Lima if they could help us out, we needed a couple of minor things done on the bikes and a place to hold them until we had our new route and transport logistics figured out.


BMW Lima picked us up and took us back to the dealer in good fashion. They worked with Ivan, a networked friend, who would begin to arrange our transport to Colombia. I have to say thanks to BMW Lima for their service, support and consideration. They are not just a dealer they are actual riders and that makes a difference worth remembering.

Carmelo met us there, at BMW, and packed our stuff in the car and took us back to Asia which is about 100 kilometres South of Lima. His home as you’ve seen is relaxing and his family made us feel, once again, a part of the team. We would spend the next 9 days experiencing family, good food, nearby places, sea creatures and beautiful walks along the beach. The time with Carmelo and family helped me heal to a point of being able to dress myself and eat, big accomplishments and excellent down time. The generosity of this family was amazing.



But it didn’t stop there; friends and family offered all kinds of well wishes and help. Though we were working through what we needed to do to get back on course the offers of support reminded us that we are not alone or stranded on this journey. Despite the pain and difficulties we faced and the challenges yet to come there are still positive lessons from all this.


We’re leaving Lima today, November 10, and onto the next part of the journey which is to fetch the bikes (sounds so easy) and try to enjoy Medellin (is easy). But as we leave I have to be grateful for what this chapter has offered us: insight, friends, family. A special thanks to Carmelo, Ivan and the team at BMW Lima for the tremendous help and support they have given us. While we never intended or wanted to come to Lima we’ve found that it’s not so bad, so maybe now Lima will let us go.

That veterans plate has been on a real ride.
I have read a bunch of your RR and I really like your writing. Hope you are ok, having broken lots of the same things you have I really feel for your current state.
Keep your head up.

Hey you two!!! Been e mailing for over a year and now just found your thread...
Glad you are moving along, "Life is a Box of Chocolates"...
Will talk soon... Spirit and I will be doing a RTW in 2013... pleanty of time to plan. An easy one you know... a big circle!!!
Be well... heal fast... write plenty.
Ara and Spirit

Leaving Lima




Huaraz wasn’t working out for us so after an uneventful evening we decided to head back to the coast the next morning and back on track North. It was only 14 kilometres out when the ‘A dog and his broken bones’ event occurred. Back in the hospital we had a long wait. Deya would spend most of the next three days running around sorting out paperwork and arranging for our return to Lima. This process will be described in better detail by Deya later. One of the first people Deya called was Carmelo, we weren’t sure where to go and had no local contacts so Carmelo seemed like the most intelligent choice. The response was overwhelming, Carmelo wanted to do a full airborne assault, parachuting in and riding the wounded Chuleta out with the full family convoy following up in the rear. Nice thought but not the right idea, instead we were directed to come and stay with the family at the beach house until we could get our logistics sorted out. This would turn out to be fantastic.



I don’t want to sound like a complainer in regards to the medical services but I do want to point out some observations that are less about capital resources and more about training. At no time was there any first responder, first aid or emergency medical services. No assessment was made as to the condition of my spine, neck, knee or crushed foot. They put gauze on my foot but that was it. The staff was friendly but medical care was lacking, wounds were not re-dressed or cleaned, old gauze was not replaced, shoulder support was not properly applied, etc. How do I know how things should be done? Well I seem to be very familiar with crashing, it’s my third busted shoulder and second broken wrist among many other injuries, I’ve also been a first aider, levels I and II, for over a decade and have seen some stuff.


Here is the simple truth, it wasn’t bad but if you’re from a developed nation the difference is vast, in fact too vast. It’s like I said the training is lacking; training is probably one of the easiest things to manage with the biggest payback if a society is interested in people’s development. If that was a rant then it’s done.


While in Huaraz one of the ladies, Hilda, who called the police at the scene, helped us out with storing the bikes and with a place to stay before we shipped the bikes to Lima. The first round of budget wreckers was about to occur. The bikes would go to a bus terminal where we would arrive. It would be an all night journey and then many hours of waiting to unload the bikes. At that point I still struggled with trying to stand or sit so Deya had a full schedule.






Deya had asked the BMW dealer in Lima if they could help us out, we needed a couple of minor things done on the bikes and a place to hold them until we had our new route and transport logistics figured out.


BMW Lima picked us up and took us back to the dealer in good fashion. They worked with Ivan, a networked friend, who would begin to arrange our transport to Colombia. I have to say thanks to BMW Lima for their service, support and consideration. They are not just a dealer they are actual riders and that makes a difference worth remembering.

Carmelo met us there, at BMW, and packed our stuff in the car and took us back to Asia which is about 100 kilometres South of Lima. His home as you’ve seen is relaxing and his family made us feel, once again, a part of the team. We would spend the next 9 days experiencing family, good food, nearby places, sea creatures and beautiful walks along the beach. The time with Carmelo and family helped me heal to a point of being able to dress myself and eat, big accomplishments and excellent down time. The generosity of this family was amazing.



But it didn’t stop there; friends and family offered all kinds of well wishes and help. Though we were working through what we needed to do to get back on course the offers of support reminded us that we are not alone or stranded on this journey. Despite the pain and difficulties we faced and the challenges yet to come there are still positive lessons from all this.


We’re leaving Lima today, November 10, and onto the next part of the journey which is to fetch the bikes (sounds so easy) and try to enjoy Medellin (is easy). But as we leave I have to be grateful for what this chapter has offered us: insight, friends, family. A special thanks to Carmelo, Ivan and the team at BMW Lima for the tremendous help and support they have given us. While we never intended or wanted to come to Lima we’ve found that it’s not so bad, so maybe now Lima will let us go.

Thanks for that amigo! We are back on track, the pain will ease once I can ride again, half my suffering is not being on the bike. I can now lift my should straight up (good sign) even though it's ugly but my wrist is still a little....odd.....:huh

Wow, Ara, sounds like the right thing to do Hopefully we bump into you before then, we might be in your neck of the woods in 2012 otherwise we might just chase you down somewhere.
Travel well friend and dont let Spirit play with those street dogs, they have no class

Back to the land of crazy drivers and good times



I should know better but down here I don’t know a dam thing. We arrived into Bogota after a tiring flight. Being on the bike is the best way to travel; I’ve never sat in a first class seat on a plane but imagining the best I’d still choose my bike. We had to wait for several hours in the airport before transferring to a different terminal. The bus ride there was our first reminder of Colombian traffic as I was sent, bowling ball fashion, rolling to the front of the bus with my broken wrist and separated shoulder in slings. Nothing to hold onto, I just about knocked four people over as I rolled down the alley towards the pins; that is when Deya burst and yelled, “Can someone give the seat to my husband who has two broken arms?”, one guy finally got up to let the injured dude take a seat on the rollercoaster ride to terminal Two.

The next flight wasn’t long, into Medellin and onto another bus we made our way to the hostel we had booked. It was nice to be back in Medellin because it’s familiar, clean, friendly and you can get things done here. We had a lot to do and for starters my cast was rubbing me the wrong way, literally. I was developing soars and bloody rub spots. Anyone who has had a plaster cast knows the difficulties of maintaining it and the meaty hock contained within. We went looking for alternates and discovered that Colombia is awesome for things like medical equipment. For a lower price as one poorly constructed splint in Peru we were able to get a really good splint, a shoulder harness and a fancy sling that fully supports and holds the shoulder in place.

Now that I was high tech I could clean up and start to recondition the arm, taking off the cast revealed maelstrom of zombie looking flesh. The arm was bloated and soar, the bulk of the colour was from the many many failed needles. I’ve been in worse condition and been needled way more often but this was butchery and now it really showed. The good thing was that after a few days of cleaning it up, light massage, redressing and splinting the arm was looking fantastic. The only form to remain after the bulk of the swelling was gone was fluid in the back of my hand which causes tension and restricted movement. I’ll get it figured out in Cuba.

We stayed at the Palm Tree hostel, possibly name thus as there is a big palm tree in the court. The folks here are awesome and it has been good for us. We also met some fascinating travellers and some other bikers Canadians too! I love those people from Canada they feel like family although they talk funny, eh? Some of the special people we met here and enjoyed intelligent conversations and great food with were the British couple Will and Stacey and the German/French girl Catherine who spoke four languages! As always meeting people and sharing is one of the great pleasures you experience by travelling.

Enough about me lets talk about the bikes. It turned out that Maersk missed the boat on our order, pun intended. I’m guessing it was because Customs was too busy playing with our kit to release the bikes but it may have been something else. I mention that because our kit was very thoroughly searched and put back together by a three year old. A little upsetting since we were charged a handsome fee for the privilege of having it searched. Once we re-organized the gear we found a critical piece of tool missing. Inside the crated bike there was a closed pannier, inside the closed pannier there was a closed tool bag, inside the closed tool bag there was a closed black case containing a $170.00 dollars chain cutting and press tool with instructions. Now, it is a complicated tool and I have used it twice already, both times I needed the instructions and even with instructions I just about screwed up. Turn out the guy searching felt it necessary to remove the press fit and instructions rendering the whole 8 piece useless. Stupid!!! I would say we were lucky to have lost only that but having paid for the service and been delayed a week by the bikes missing the boat you might imagine that I’m not too impressed.

Okay so the bikes got forwarded to Amber Worldwide/Consolcargo and loaded, success! Deya, being Deya was on them like rotting meat stinks and had the whole team on a first name basis. That team consisted of the offices in Bogota, Medellin and Buenaventura, including some contacts back in Peru. Leave no rock unturned. Consolcargo must certainly inform us when the bikes were unloaded and deconsolidated. Nope, there was so much misinformation, wrong numbers etcetera that if not for Deya’s persistence we would never have found out about the bikes. Deconsolidated for three days and we were in a panic to contract carriage from Buenaventura to Medellin. It was epic and we’ll explain those three days of intensity as its own bit of fun later.

Suffice to say there is a team of incredible individuals right on our tails. From Mario in Chile to our old pal Diego in Medellin and Ivan in Peru we’ve got a network of support that’s unstoppable. I have talked about Ruta 40, the BMW shop in Medellin, as being outstanding and once again I have to say Mauricio of Ruta 40 has really laid it out. With the help of his friend and fellow rider Carlos the epic recovery of the bikes from the port in Buenaventura was made possible. Even with that, the chance of us getting to the Stahlratte on time was reduced from 14 days to about 2 hours.

At one critical moment in Buenaventura Deya asked, “Do you think all this means we aren’t supposed to go on the Stahlratte?” To which I said, “Not if the bikes aren’t loaded today and we are not able to leave town”. That said it all, we would have to change plans based on the omen set out in front of us. The short story is, due to several factors, we now are up to two days to clear Customs and load onto the Stahlratte, we’re going to Cuba!


The bikes have been tuned up and my pannier hammered back into shape. We’ll leave for a 14 hours ride to Cartagena on Monday. Cross your fingers folks for a smooth sail from Medellin

In Cuba, Customs was a bitch, the Sailing was great once I puked enough. It's an extra special place to motorbike that's for sure. I'll update more by the end of the month if everything goes well. Internet here is slow and cost about 7-12 USD per hour, if you can find it.

cheers,
Brian

Great RR, although I'm still catching up. You made it to Cuba? Be careful there, I just finished reading about another guy on here who had tons of trouble with the police there because apparently your entry visa doesn't entitle you to ride in the parks and forests. Safe travels!

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to the two of you. Best of wishes and Sharon sends her best too.

Hola Brain

The importation wasn't that bad was it Glad you guys got your bikes up there, it's well worth the extra effort as like you figured out already it is a "Special Place" and for sure not a good place to use the internets

Who else took bikes up this time? I heard there where five all together.

Looking forward to your stories on the island

We cannot post here now. Please check www.andthenweregone.blogspot.com
IN CUBA.

Dang Brian, that place gettin to ya?:eek1

I think you are missing a "we" somewhere in that addy.

For those wondering,,, juss click the andthenweweregone link in his sig line.


Great to hear from ya'll. I mentiened to Sharon the other day it had been awhile since I heard from y'all. Was startin to get a bit worried. Hope things turn around soon.

TM, you got it right "Special Place". There were 5 bikes, Deya and I plus a german gal from Colombia on a 125cc, Merlin from the USA on a KTM and the Aleman's Frank and Petra on a 1150gs. We all split up once we left the port. They left on the Stahlratte and we ended up stuck in Cuba for 4 months. 3 of those months where trying to get out of Cuba. No es Facil as they say. Now that we're back I'll get a little more internet access so I'll start posting here again. ADV would work at all in CUBA.
Cheers,

That place was getting to us, in more ways than you might imagine, we'll tell you about it sometime.:huh over
Brian MD

Viva Cuba Libre – First Blush



(Due to slow and expensive internet, pictures and video will be added once we are off the island, Thanks)

A good American friend wrote in response to our email about the cost of Internet services in Cuba saying that for a country that values its people it’s interesting that only the privileged can afford to use the Internet. I recognized the sarcasm right away since this friend has been doing deep calculations on how to best afford medical insurance in the USA. I mentioned what he already knew about the fact that only the privileged get medical in the US and that there are more Americans without any medical than there are Cubans in total. Of course the US blockade makes developing infrastructure and telecommunications extremely difficult in Cuba, which means high demand and low supply, resulting in very high prices. This issue is soon to be resolved by mid next year with a fibre-optic cable to Venezuela. Thanks to a ridiculous 50 year blockade the US has managed to push Cuba closer to the pool of anti US countries, good job eh? Despite this, several US telecommunications companies are currently bidding on contracts in Cuba and its lucrative and mostly untouched market, likely hoping to capitalize on a massive roaming charge market in the meantime. Ultimately I’d rather have low cost medical than cheap Internet.

What we discovered when we got here and began researching the Cuban industry was that the USA is Cuba’s 6<SUP>th</SUP> largest trading partner. Cuba spends about double the amount of its very hard earned money in the USA than it does with its oldest diplomatic partner, Canada. In Cuba, many families we have stayed with own their homes and while this is a fairly new development, the Cubans who do not yet own a home live in many cases in very beautiful homes anyways. It’s not unusual to see a flat screen TV, X-BOX ready, with the appropriate video game gear attached. Some things are difficult to get here because of the political situation and after all it is still, after 50 years, an island under siege.

“No es facil” and I would agree, “It’s not easy”. This is a pretty common statement in Cuba but it’s the same kind of statement a Canadian might make about trying to pay the taxes, living paycheque to paycheque or slipping and sliding their way to a 10-12 hour day at work in the middle of winter. The fact is life can be tough anywhere and I know a lot of people from Canada who might seem rich here but are actually two paycheques from loosing their place of dwelling. It’s not easy, but the difference here is that Cubans, in my opinion, have little frame of reference and might think, because they would like to have a trip to Disneyland, an iPod or Bill Gate’s yacht, they are missing out on something.

Well, some are missing out but then so am I. Cubans seem to compare their existence to that of North Americans and Europeans. This is good because they have a pretty high standard but what they should be doing is recognizing that they are a Caribbean island and at best they should compare themselves to the other Caribbean islands and Central America which might help to realize that they are so much better off than their neighbours. What gives them the freedom to be concerned about their plight is just that, freedom. A place to live, good education, good health care, enough food and other social initiatives. You hear that the average wage is 30 dollars a month but when all the other things are covered then the worst a Cuban can do is: enjoy the weather, beach, relaxing, food, comfortable home, time with friends, learning, music, art, etc. I think you get the idea but Cubans take this for granted. Next time you’re paying your rent or mortgage and your boss is yelling at you about performance and wondering what you would lose if you quit your job, think about the poor Cubans sitting on their porch wondering about a new cell phone. I may have just simplified a complicated problem but the two truths are that Cubans generally have less opportunity compared to Canadians but also don’t have the same risk of total loss. I guess I’m glad to be able to choose.

For us, this is one of the safest and most civilized countries we have been in. With two million people in Havana I can walk with my wife around at night, no hard core drugs, no knives, no guns, no problem. Some one might try to get you to buy something you don’t need because you have more money than them. Try strolling in any big cities through the Americas, just try it and tell me if you don’t get a little sketched out. One of the biggest things that Deya and I have faced as we travel through the Americas is safety. This has been an incredible oversight coming from a very safe country but now we understand that safety should come first because without it nothing else really matters. In Afghanistan, there isn’t much use in building a school when your children will be blown up by attending it, security first.

I started this chapter with a rant because Cuba is truly an amazing and interesting place, piece of history, social experiment and a gem. This is one country that, if it is very careful and intelligent, will be an island of excellence and being Cuban will be seen as a privilege. One cautious observation we’ve noticed is that Cubans don’t know how to handle money, like a regular Joe winning the lottery, all money can be lost in a season. Those who think Cuba should just open up to the free market like a turkey on Thanksgiving obviously couldn’t care less about the Cuban people. If Cuba is greedy it will end up like any other drug infested socially disrupted piece of the supply and demand matrix. Let’s hope Cubans can move forward down a path of premeditation and caution for all our sakes.



Entering Cuba by boat
You would think it would be hard to do but in reality “It’s not easy”. The Cuban government has very organized and established systems which are not unlike any other organized government. But like many other governments we have dealt with, as well as companies, the system is plagued with inefficiencies and waste. It has been our opinion that it has less to do with the government and more to do with the complacent and lazy attitude of the highly educated people doing the jobs. This is a very interesting and complicated problem but of course realigning systems to create better performance is clearly needed here.

We docked at a nice little port in Cienfuegos and waited for the officials to clear us and our bikes, it would take days and the Captain was kind enough to host us during the wait. The search of the boat involves dogs and many officers. They dig through everything, open every bag and sniff about. Finally a real search! I thought for sure we would get a thorough go about at some border but it was finally Cuba that cared enough about us to open my water bottle to take a sniff. It was a good experience and later that night the Cuban security guys came back to have some beers on the boat with us.

Turns out, as the dog handler told us, that in Santa Clara there is a show and shine for Motorbikes and the Harley Davidson Club would be there. They asked how fast our bikes would go, I told them with the right tyres and unloaded I could probably get up to 180-200 kilometres per hour. Well, they started jumping up and down saying they want to bet on us for the 1 km sprint because there are no bikes on the island that can do over 150! I had a good laugh but they were dead serious with dollar signs and the big win on their minds. Good times.

Cienfuegos is a beautiful city with a relaxed pace. We’ll go back and spend some time near there as it seemed like a nice place to hang out. As soon as we could leave we wasted no time getting out and heading towards La Habana. I was smiling and happy, struggling to keep myself calm as it had been over 6 weeks since I had last ridden Chuleta. I wasn’t sure how much strength I’d have to ride or what I’d encounter on this island and with my busted bones. We followed Frank and Petra through sun and heavy rain stopping a few times for a picture or a snack. I’m impressed with how checked out those two are. They really have their gear sorted out and look much more organized than Deya and I.

On the route we stopped for some lunch of rice and chicken with a beverage for about $1.2 CND for two, nice. We noticed that as we traveled we pretty much disrupted everything and people and cars stopped to stare; motorcycles like ours are extremely rare here, this was going to be interesting. We saw military convoys and they saw us, waving and swerving slightly to get a look as we rode by. We were pulled over by the police so the guy could look at us and say, “Wow” and comment on our cool helmets. Roli had told us that the best places in Cuba are in between the cities. I’m tending to agree with his assessment, though the cities are very nice.

Generally the road conditions are average to good. In the cities you have to watch out for missing manhole covers and a lot of oil at intersections, especially when it rains. This makes navigating cautious but fortunately we’re used to that kind of thing in Latin America. Havana (La Habana) is pretty easy to get around and the traffic is always pretty light. I’ve heard it might be one of the nicest cities in the Americas and I’m inclined to agree, it is a beautiful city, Deya and I enjoy just walking around it.

We followed our friends to where they were staying, we ended up nearby at a residential home. Cubans get business licenses to rent rooms or suites in their homes and this is a good experience for the most part. Typical cost for a room is 20-30 CUC a night. One CUC is roughly equivalent to 1 Canadian dollar. It seems high but the owner needs to pay the monthly licensing fee of 150 CUC so if you stay a month the price goes down because their cost is covered. The best thing about this kind of lodging is you get to know the Cuban families and learn about their lives. You also get to know a little about the culture and mindset of people and that’s really something. Perspective and perception is a very subtle yet strong influence. Ironically, Cubans are well educated and can speak to you at any level but because of their environment or maybe because they live on an island they tend to speak at you and really don’t make much attempt to listen to what you are saying.

Our first few days were very interesting, we stayed with an artist who travels to Germany for a few months every year to exhibit his work. He says if he wants he could stay to work and live in Europe but then started to explain the wages in Germany, the cost of living and had a clear understanding of the difficulties of living in a ‘Western’ country. He said simply that he prefers the ease and security of living in Cuba and the surety of his daily life and lifestyle. Touché friend, I’m very proud of Canada and would prefer it over anything but I can see how you might be content here. By the way, nice video game consol and 30” flat screen LCD. I’m jealous.

Deya and I had in our mission to visit the hospital to get information about my busted bones. Day one in the International Hospital (Cira Garcia) was loaded with smart people with poor attitudes. After an hour of the run around Deya was done and when the final lady at the reception, with pen in the right hand and note pad in the left, told Deya she didn’t have time to right down the prices of the three x-rays we needed, Deya blew up. Some yelling and the boss came in to sort it out. The boss ended up helping us out and we ended up staying another two hours to help out a young American guy named Mike who was in pain. While I’m sure the hospital is very good, as the reputation suggests, it was again the people who would literally ignore you or say, “I’m too busy, go wait somewhere until I’m done.” Since they are never done you go ask someone else who says, “That’s not my job go somewhere else” or “I finish work in an hour, come back tomorrow.” You can imagine how that doesn’t work well with us.

Of course it’s not the first time we have had to start jacking people up in Cuba and I imagine it will not be the last. The idea that this is how it works is crap because this is not how it works and with a little research you find quickly that the systems are robust but lazy people seem to be sitting on the ‘GO’ buttons. There seems to be a huge contrast between people on the street and people at work. On their own time people are fantastic, on the company’s time they are noisy, uneducated and rude, generally speaking of course. Don’t mean to rant again but we’ll eventually visit the Ministry of Tourism to discuss why they don’t like tourists much, see how that goes.

Another thing we did, which I want to briefly mention was to visit the Canadian Embassy and then attended a BBQ and Beer event. Before you enter the Embassy they check your passport, once verified they let you in the gate, no questions asked. Then they search for contraband, once you are done and ready to go inside they might say something like, “Welcome Home.” I’ve heard this before and I can’t quite describe what that feels like but it sets a tone for the visit and helps one to be fiercely proud of your country’s efforts. Deya decided we should stop by the Mexican Embassy to see if they have any Taco and Tequila events. We got there and they treated her more like a criminal than a citizen, she’s probably the first actual Mexican to visit the Embassy in years since the rest were Cubans trying to get visas and everything seemed to be about problems. She had a little cry outside and said she felt like tearing up her passport and throwing it at them. I know she’s proud to be Canadian but I think deep down she wishes she could be more proud of her native land, tough luck I guess. I’m a cold hearted bastard because I can be and for that I’m grateful to be Canadian.

Finally the results of the visit to the International Hospital, three X-rays and a consultation = 100 CUC. I haven’t made a decision yet but If I choose to get surgery done to replace the absent ligament connecting the collar bone to the shoulder, it will cost about 3800 CUC including 10 days in a private room with full support, spare bed for the wife at an extra cost, three meals a day and check ups.

One of the difficult things to do in Cuba is finding cash. Any credit cards or debit cards that route into or through the USA will not work. There are not an abundance of places to get cash either so when you find it you need to get a wad.
We also had an experience with the difference between being a tourist and a Cuban. We had ice cream in the Cuban side of the fence, they made Deya show her Cuban pesos before we could enter to have a bowl, it cost about 0.20 CUC. Then we went over the fence to the tourist side to see what the same bowl of ice cream costs, 3.9 CUC. Wow!
The toll road en route to Varadero was the same thing, 0.09 CUC for a Cuban or 2.0 CUC for a tourist, which only helped us to find really cool back roads. The markets are about the same but less distinction since tourists never really go there. The cost of food, however limited the variety, is incredibly cheap and we can get a few days of groceries for a couple of bucks. Cubans here have not yet learned how to overcharge a tourist though some might try.

After a week in La Habana we headed to Varadero where we will meet my parents for the Christmas season, returning to Havana in the New Year or heading West to explore, we’ll see.

January 19, 2012
Viva Cuba Libre – Learning Curve



(Due to slow and expensive Internet, pictures and video will be added once we are off the island, Thanks)

We arrived in Varadero the day before my parents were supposed to arrive. Varadero seems to be a Canadian hot spot which is more likely to do with the Canadian travel agencies than anything else. Since most Canadians don’t have more than a week or two vacation during winter they probably want to hang out on a nice beach and not worry about much. This sounds like an easy sell and from the folks we have talked to and the experience we have had this is a case of unfortunate tourism. I can just imagine that the options to explore Cuba are not even given to Canadians since there are much better and cheaper options available.

Our initial intention was to book ourselves into the resort so that we could spend the time with my parents, my brother and his wife. Originally we had quoted a price from Colombia but could not reserve because we simply didn’t know for sure when we would get there. Having spent the better part of a week in various Customs’ offices was a concern. Despite that, we were fairly diligent but by the time we got to Havana and contacted the travel agency the price had more than tripled to 360 CUC a night! NO WAY. We asked how much for a day pass, thinking that we could at least spend some days at the resort with the family. The quote was 25 CUC per person for 8 hours of hanging out. When we finally got to Varadero the price had doubled?! We talked to the Commercial manager and he said the best price to stay there he could get us was 139 CUC per night for the two of us.

We agreed with the manager since the purpose of trying to get to Varadero was to visit my family and it seemed to be slipping away. We were told to come back the next day to pay for the nights. The next day we came back at the prescribed time and were told they hadn’t got around to making up the bill and to come back the next day in the morning. We arrived the next day to settle the deal and were told that because we didn’t get it the day before it was now considered ‘peak season’ and the price had doubled! I wont go into the explicatives or the frustration and retarded conversations that we had to endure and overhear from the staff and management there, but you can imagine that an event that came to this conclusion after 6 days of significant effort was so frustrating.

The route to Varadero was pretty good as far as riding goes though when we got to the toll booth, which we didn’t know existed, we had no funds in CUC to pay. Despite having Cuban plates and not a tourist plate, one look at us assured that we had to pay extra. They went from 10 Cuban Pesos to 2 CUC each. It’s not a lot but we asked the cops nearby and they could not understand why we were getting the shaft but told us there was a way around the booth. We ended up taking the old route which was primitive and mostly dirt. Fantastic road, was better that the asphalt and put us right in front of the marina. We had already arranged a ‘Casa Particular’ and then engaged the resort to no avail.

Since there was no staying at the Arenas Blancas or Solymar resorts with my family we made a reservation at another Casa Particular for the second part of the holidays. Casas Particulares, as you might recall, are home owners who rent rooms out to people. Our reservation was a let down as the owner never honoured it. We ended up at another place that was under construction at the time but we accepted on the promise that the construction would be done the next day. This turned into a debacle and found ourselves strung along for four nights, until finally on our evening walk back we found we had been ejected in favour of others who were now enjoying a quiet place with no more construction, they had offered a higher price.

After some drama to which I hate to participate, we left; it was late and there would be almost no places available during this peak holiday season. The result was pitching the tent on the beautiful beaches of Varadero. As the story goes, “It was a long and stormy night…” but after the trauma Deya had slept like a baby and the next day turned everything around for us. We found a really nice place with super people and were able to enjoy the days and evenings with my family outside of the resort.

In the resort the service sucks, I’m not being bitter it just really does suck. Deya and I would go and sit near the reception desk waiting for my folks to come down to great us and we would hear no end of the customers complaining because of any number of easily fixable or resolvable situations. To which the response in most cases was, “It’s not my job; It’s the State’s problem not mine; etcetera.”

One example was getting Internet access; you have to buy a ticket which is similar to a calling card and its good for one hour intervals. The worker in charge of the Internet cafe at the resort didn’t have any available and when the worker was asked by a good many customers she would exclaim that she didn’t have any. Of course silly tourists would probe about when she would have more available and she would only say, “I don’t know when we get them it’s the manager’s responsibility and he’s not available”. Well it would seem he had been sold out as well. Further drilling reveals that the manager has to call the service provider for new inventory of cards and that since the staffer is not considered competent enough to do it herself that it’s the boss’ job. But since the boss doesn’t work at this station and the staffer is ‘not responsible’ then she never notifies the boss and he has to find out on his own when they are short in cards. Once Deya found the boss (about three minutes of looking) the cards were called in and delivered within an hour. Apathy, stupidity, complacency, incompetence and narrow mindedness; all behaviours we would see repeated over and over again without surrender or pause as we traveled Cuba.

We had a good time with my family in Varadero and had a couple side trips to Havana with them. We like Havana ourselves and were able to at least show some of the good things about Cuba and its people. Though the resorts can’t seem to prove it, Cubans can actually produce very nice food and the rum is fantastic but you have to stay with a family to know this. On one occasion when we went to the market to get some beans we saw another BMW painted in the Cuban colours. We stopped to find a Swiss guy named Thomas and his cohort Tony from Canada. We had a nice chat and collected a bit of information from him. We also spent a bit of time with two other Canadians (Varadero is full of them) named Terry and Twila, also motorcycle riders. We had a great time with them and hope to see them again either here or back home.

Once we departed from Varadero our route would be zigzagging West towards the tip of Cuba. The roads were a mix from poor to good and the scenery was not dissimilar. Farm land always seem nice to me and the short mountains with their twisty roads are a nice reprise from the hot flat coastal roads. We stayed a night in a non touristic town of Artemisa and rented a room. Since there are no tourists here the room was for locals and amount to what I like to call a boom-boom room evidenced by the room next door and all the uh-huhs and oh-yahs going on in repetition for precisely 3 minutes 18 seconds ;-). Turns out that the family homes all have lots of family around and if a couple want some privacy they have to pay for it. It’s a small island after all and it seems everyone knows what everyone else is doing. The spy network here are the busybodies hanging around gossiping.

It’s an interesting thing that Cubans don’t seem to ask too many questions but if you’ll listen, or just stand there, they’ll tell you everything. Some are, I’m sure, able to breathe in through their noses whilst speaking at length. I jest but with the taint of sarcasm for the situation. The irony here is that it seems nearly impossible to make a Cuban friend. I’ll explain shortly.

The route to the West end of the island was long and somehow boring, though the scenery was nice. At one point the road is blocked by a checkpoint. Authorization is required but easily had by the main office near the shore. A Tourist Info Centre has a nice and helpful group to guide you to what you may need. We journeyed to the end and found a marina and a hotel (75 CUC per night). We enquired about shipping the bikes to Mexico but it didn’t seem feasible so we left our info and carried on. It was late enough and a long enough route that we needed to camp. The route would be perilous at night with animals and who knows what else.

We stayed on a beautiful virgin (National Park) beach, just us and plethora of bugs. We now have more numerous bites on us than even in Costa Rica. Despite that, imagine sitting on a white sand beach, aqua blue water lapping against the beach leading into deep blue. A few stars are visible as the sun sets over the water, red, orange and warm; a cup of 7 Year Old Havana Club and a beautiful spouse sitting quietly next to you absorbing the scene, all alone… wonderful. The night however would be full of disturbances, bug bites and wild pigs all digging in for what food they could find.

At some point we made it to a town called Viñales and met a family of farmers. They were of the most interesting sort we had met and had intelligent questions and opinions of all kinds. I wish we had had more time to really converse about such political and cultural topics as they were bringing them up. It happened that their daughter was having a fifteen years birthday party, coming of age kind of thing. We were invited and got to be present for the slaughter of the pigs. (Video) The food and party was primitive and fantastic, the kind of event that I enjoy.

I want to give my state of mind right now, considering all that we’ve been through and the simple duration of our travel. I’m feeling a little tired and impatient with Cuban people. I’ve heard it said that it’s a country of contradictions and it certainly is. You meet fantastic people then step two paces and find a bunch of vultures. Not that vultures are bad but maybe you don’t feel just yet like you are dead carrion. It seems, and every foreigner we’ve met has stated clearly the same, that people here don’t seem friendly only as in so much that they think they’re about to get something from you.

One more aggressive example is that knowing a fellow for less than two hours, in that time we were invited to his place where he utterly disrespected our personal property as though it was his, he made requests that were insensitive to our standards and began arranging a christening of his children so that we could be the God Parents to his kids. While there are too many details to mention these constant kind of attempts to get anything from you occur persistently and it’s tiring to me. The constant question of ‘how much did you pay for the bikes’ is not new to us but the question in Cuba comes from people who live a comfortable life and make 30 bucks a month. If you tell them that personal answer, they usually come with looks and stupid questions about if you have any money lying around, because you must be a stupid rich person and I’m simply tired of it. They have Zero frame of reference for cash and don’t know how to handle it, as can be seen in most homes were a 45” flat screen TV sits but the toilet has been non functional for two years, so to ask ‘how much’ is complicated and ridiculous.

To rant any further is depressing and tiring and while this is surely a decent place with a government that makes a notable effort for its people the complicated problem of extremely poor productivity, seen in a couple of factories and plantations so far plus a general attitude, means a very unsustainable future for Cubans. If you were to ask me right now if I would return again to Cuba I would say, “No.” Other than being very safe, there is for me right now, not another thing in Cuba that you cannot find elsewhere for better value and service. Sorry Cuba, this is your doing nobody else’s.

Deya and I are currently talking about trying to change our somewhat defeated mindset, it may be our only choice at this point, I hope it works.

February 10, 2012

Viva Cuba Libre – I still don’t know….



(Sorry no pictures until after we leave Cuba)

Deya wanted to stay at a nearby Campismo in Viñales, which is a campsite for tourists. The story is that people used to camp here but now it’s all buildings and restaurants. It was a pretty good deal at 15 CUC per night. We enjoyed the independence and not having to deflect sales pitches from the local houses. We were also able to reduce our costs by cooking ourselves which we rather enjoy anyways. To our good fortune we bumped into Steve from England who was sharing a tour with Alex from Germany. These two guys made a regular dinner party at our place for the nights we were there. For me, being able to have conversations in English with people who take you for who you are was a relief and made the days at the Campismo most enjoyable. Deya of course was on a mission to find beans and made friends with the local staffers by teaching them how to make crepes. Once the boss explained that crepes were not pies, cakes, pancakes or bread they were all excited. The staff even agreed they would enter the crepes into their next regional competition, every one was impressed and we now had a supply of fantastic beans!

During our stay we checked out another Casa Particular named Villa Noel. It was beautifully set back away from the road and alone. With a quiet country look and walking distance to the town Deya was keen on staying there. Fortunately the price was right and the folks who owned it were fantastic. We scheduled our stay once our time ran out at the Campismo; the Campismo was fully booked by 20+ people from Norway. It would have been fun to stay with that crowd but fate was taking us else where.

The Casa Particular was the best one we have stayed in around Cuba. The people are good, the food is great and the kind of guests that seem to be attracted to this sort of home fit our style of people. We were able to meet and spend some time with a German couple, then a Swedish couple and finally a couple from Switzerland. As luck would have it we would bump into the couples again and if fortune smiles on us we will see them again in the near future. It is these meetings I enjoy the best about our travels and while I’ve only given it one paragraph, the people we now know deserve volumes but those volumes are for us.

While in Viñales we discovered a small clothing factory; mostly denim, tops and bottoms. They had a matrix of about 105 styles and sizes, and like other places we checked out they measure productivity based on how many people show up for work. How many people show up for work is up to the people as it was expressed and so this determines the level of output on a daily level. Looking at the process one could see that the productivity level of the people that did show up for work was abysmal. When asked if this was a normal way for Cuban companies to operate we were told it was and in fact they have won awards for their high level of productivity! Ouch! This would confirm some of the other things we have been seeing.

We left Viñales having thought of it as a success. The road back to Havana was easy and we ended up staying at a friend’s suite in Havana. Our intention was to stay in Havana until we found a way off the island. Once we got here our host Julio turned things around for us, a real resource of information and a quiet place to relax; we felt as though we had been taken off the firing line of tourist under attack by Cuban money lifters. Most tourists complained about being hassled quite consistently by Cubans looking to get some money. In fact the owners of the Casa Particulares have the same problem but many don’t know it.

As it goes here, the ‘helpers’ approach you and offer to line up a house to stay at with one of their friends. It’s not a friend of course and what they are doing is extracting a fee, typically about 25% of the total stay and up to 50% of the total food purchased. These ‘helpers’ do nothing to earn this money other than harass tourists every few minutes yet the local home owners seem to think they won’t get any business without them? It drives away the tourists, increases the prices and pisses people off. Also these ‘helpers’ don’t pay taxes and the home owners have to pay quite a bit of taxes. This is bad business for Cuban tourism at any rate.

While in Havana we have been meeting people and getting to know the area around where we live. What’s disturbing is that the level of black market here is extremely high. Cubans trade in everything! If you go to the market and buy potatoes from the guy with the cart outside, it’s illegal. Potatoes! Of course you wouldn’t know it other than they are expensive and it seems retarded that it’s black market potatoes but if you want them that’s the only option. Potatoes aren’t the only thing, pretty much anything you can dream of is on the black market. It’s all so permeated that I think it’s almost impossible to tell the difference between right and wrong here and you probably buy stuff without even knowing you’ve contributed to a crime.

But why are potatoes a crime, for example? Well, like many things here, they are in thin supply and so things are imported or produced (remember the low productivity) at a high cost. There is then another cost added which some studies put at least 20:1 for non-perishables, that’s theft! That is to say that one dollar of stuff stolen costs about twenty dollars to replace the entire loss. And don’t think theft here is minor, from what we have seen and understand it’s rampant, unchecked and out of control. It would seem the only reason people even show up for their 15-20 CUC per month salary is to steal from the companies and government organizations. I really don’t believe I’m exaggerating!

So why don’t the Cuban steal from tourists? They do but what isn’t common is a violent mugging or what one Australian couple suffered after leaving the airport. The couple were told to put all their belongings, including purses, etc. in the back of the cab, when they got to the destination they took their luggage and the cab left. All their money from the lady’s purse was gone, over 500 bucks. It doesn’t happen a lot but it does happen.

So why doesn’t it happen much more than that? Well, there are rules here which makes me proud of the government, here they are: First, don’t mess with kids; Second, don’t mess with weapons; Third, don’t mess with drugs and Fourth, don’t mess with tourists. Having said that if you end up getting caught in one of those categories I understand that your whole life has just taken a major turn for the worst. Good job Cuba!

From Havana Deya and I took a day trip with our new friends Horst and Osly. Horst is a German fellow working for a company here in Havana and is a BMW rider and Osly makes about the best illegal potatoes that I’ve ever had! We headed to a place called Playa Giron. About six or seven years after Cubans won their freedom, the Rum Company Bacardi financed a military assault against Cuba and the landing took place at this particular beach. It was a failure of course but highlighted the plight of the Cuban people against the powerful US companies that created the incongruity in social-racial and economic class that caused a revolution in the first place. As you know those companies and wealthy families still want their island back, of course sovereignty and freedom are not given the same value outside of the United States. When we look at the history of this conflict there is only one way to describe it, “Old, tired and stupid”. Everybody is holding on to something that changed a long time ago.

As a special note on this day trip that ended up as a night trip and slightly epic was my 4<SUP>th</SUP>, 5<SUP>th</SUP> and 6<SUP>th</SUP> tyre puncture. What a pain, we have made about 55,000 kilometres through the Americas without a flat and now that we are in Cuba I can’t make it 500 kilometres without a laceration or two. Hmph. Going to go search for tyre patch kits tomorrow, thank goodness I have a spare tube because there are none for my bike on this island.

Growing up in Cuba



*Names have been changed for privacy reasons*

“I was only three years old; of course I have no memory of the event at that time. It was 1959 when the revolution occurred and everything had changed. My father worked outside of La Habana for a sugar cane company, he was a hard worker and worked long hours, we were considered an upper middle class family. My dad bought the house we are sitting in now, though it didn’t look the same as it does now. Since we have always lived here we never lost the property.”

“I was the youngest of the three kids, each separated by 7 years, don’t ask what my parents were thinking with that schedule but that’s how it worked out. Luis was 10 at the time and Paco would have been 17 years old. My oldest brother Paco was born with a slight disability having some limited capacities; this would create some complications later. He still lives here with me though my mom and dad have both passed. But at the time the country was feeling a lot of tension and there were many protests and small rebellions against the incredibly corrupt government, just prior to the revolution.”

“The country had seen almost all of its growth in the years prior to the revolution and very little after that. It was stinking with wealth and with violence, drugs, prostitution, gambling, murders, etc., a real paradise for some and a hell for others. The second Great War had made its mark with industry and wealth and with a long and complicated political history in Cuba. The United States had muscled a contract to have unrestricted access to mining and military bases as well as the rights to interfere with Cuba’s sovereign issues at their leisure, this was called ‘Enmienda Platt’; so much for the idea of sovereignty, it allowed for a condition where Cubans had very little rights to their own country.”

“Of course you know about Fidel and how he originally led a band of students in an armed assault in Santiago against Batista, which failed. This put him into prison where he represented himself, since he was a lawyer, and eventually got out of prison and ended up in Mexico. He and a group trained and returned on the boat known as ‘The Granma’, you’ve seen it in the Museum of Revolution downtown, landing in Coloradas a province of the Orient. He then led the revolution. There were 82 people on the boat, one of the sailors fell overboard but was rescued lending great moral support to their effort.”

“You know, at the time, everyone supported the revolution, everybody. The rich, middle class and poor people all supported the revolution. Fidel was not alone; it was not a revolution of one man. But in 1961 the ‘Peter Pan Project’ occurred. By now Luis was 13 years old. The large companies were annexed and my father lost his job. Medium size companies were starting to be taken over by the government and eventually even the neighbourhood butcher would end up as a government distribution centre causing most of these small businesses to close.”

“You can imagine that during this period there was a lot of confusion. My aunt, on my mom’s side was in an uproar. She was a bit of a nut. She was in prison for protesting against Batista and then again for protesting against Fidel, nuts. Of course the Peter Pan Project didn’t help her. Since the take over of Fidel the support for the revolution took a terrible turn. Many of the supporters that wanted the revolution didn’t want the change in economic structure that Fidel implemented; just a necessary change in leadership, there was no doubt that Batista and the US Government were responsible for the terrible conditions of the majority of Cubans which facilitated the revolution. But a socialist and communist system was not the answer for most. This meant that in this year there were new revolutionaries fighting from the very high mountains against Fidel that he himself fought from.”

“During this time of confusion the rebels printed a ‘fake law’ for mass distribution posing as an official government notice. The new law stated that the parents of all children under 15 would lose custody or parental rights to their children and that the children would be sent to the USSR for reprogramming. This would cause widespread panic amongst the Cubans. Parents began sending their children to the United States by the thousands. With the exception of my mother, her whole side of the family left Cuba under the strenuous pressure of my rebel aunt, including my brother Luis. Of course, the years after saw the Bay of Pigs/Playa Giron (US sponsored attack by mercenaries) and the Cuban Missile Crisis which pitted us in between the USA and USSR, a very low time for Cubans. Sadly the embargo had put us into the loving care of the Soviets and there we had no choice but to adopt communism, something Fidel said he never wanted, but what were we to do?”

“Luis by now, I’ll remind you, was 13 years old and military service was a requirement for males aged 15-30 years so the conditions for him to leave Cuba were running out. Under my aunt’s pressure he was sent, I was still very young and my older brother Paco was disabled so we stayed behind. My parents didn’t want to leave Cuba like so many others had. It was prior to this time that we were the only occupied house on the block. So many of the affluent people had left for the United States leaving everything behind, as though they were going on a short vacation, to return once the dust had settled. Of course they never did and lost everything in the process. Again, we never abandoned our homes so we didn’t loose anything, really. This explains all the angry Cubans in Miami, I guess.”

“Not having immediate family in the USA my brother ended up in an orphanage until he was about 16 years of age. Over those years he was beaten and raped repeatedly. I asked why my aunt’s family didn’t take him but they said it was just too difficult trying to take care of themselves in their new country. I never really understood. By the time he was release from the orphanage he was taken into foster care by an American family who owned a small locksmith shop in which he worked to help out. He never lost his motivation to study and never blamed anyone for his plight, eventually finishing a PhD from Boston University in Sociology, becoming recognized as an expert in child sexual abuse. Luis and his partner moved to Puerto Rico where he died of AIDS in 1996 on my father’s 82<SUP>nd</SUP> birthday. Dad was in such good spirits I couldn’t bear to tell him about Luis so I waited a couple of days after the birthday. I told him Luis died of cancer; Dad never knew about Luis’ lifestyle or the abuse he suffered, there was no point in telling him now; Dad lived a couple more years before passing, joining my mom.”

“Life went on and things were fairly primitive, the socialist effort and external pressures had reduced things to a meagre existence for Cubans. By 1980 the ‘Mariel Exodus’ occurred. I remember this; some embassies had started to offer visas to Cubans which caused thousands to rush the embassies. It became violent with people being crushed and shot at by embassy guards. At one point a bus tried to breach a gate of the Peruvian Embassy, both the Venezuelan and Peruvian Cuban guards were shooting, in the crossfire a Peruvian embassy’s Cuban guard was killed. The bus load of Cubans rammed the gate and requested asylum.”

“In response to the poorly thought out offers of the Peruvian government towards the visas, Fidel pulled the security around the embassy to avoid any more shooting. The worst happened and over ten thousand Cubans rushed the embassy. It was horrible, it’s the same place where the Hotel Occidental is now and you have seen the place, across from the Greek Embassy. There was violence, rapes, crimes; it was disgusting, people were defecating beside each other, eating the grass and bark from the trees. Everyone was going, people just running down to the embassies, they would come from all over the country and just abandon their cars and motorbikes, right in front of my house! Very bad people went there, many friends and most of my neighbours, this was a bad time.”

“It became so bad that the government began sending aid into the embassy and issuing passes for Cubans to leave the embassy and return home while still maintaining their rights to asylum in the foreign country. At this time a few boats turned up on the shore, coming from Florida requesting that their families be allowed to leave with them. The government allowed the families to leave but also many others, in fact they would load the boats regardless of family relations. After the first few boats arrived and left a few more would turn up, then a dozen or so, then hundreds. By the end of this process 150,000 Cubans had exited by sea and this was known as the Mariel Exodus.”

“This was a major blow to the ideals of the government, having so many Cubans leave in such a manor. The government recognized that they needed to improve life for the people and sough support from other socialist countries. It led to a time of gluttony and waste, we had everything, colour television, cars, food, luxury items and you name it. These were the years between 1985 and 1990 and represented the highest point in living standards that we had. After that though the Eastern block collapsed, the wall fell and the support for our country and crops completely stopped.”

“The recession and collapse in the 90’s of the Soviet Union became known as the Special Period. Everything was difficult to get: food, gasoline, clothing, everything; if there were 5000 bicycles on the streets there were only 5 cars. The government did a good job at keeping everyone employed but even though you had a job there was nothing to buy. You can imagine the difficulty we faced and the embargo gained some strength during that period to make things worse for us. At one point I remember a big riot downtown, people were smashing windows and stealing things, the military was there and finally Fidel came down to deal with it directly and calmed things down. Fidel talked on the television daily in those days, asking us to stick together, to help out our neighbours, believe in the revolution and our freedom and to work hard to get through this difficult period. Maybe we did, I don’t know.”

“What I do know is that this special period, in my opinion, was good for Cubans. We learned how to stick together, to work and survive. There was so much less waste, unlike the late 80’s when fuel, water, food, entertainment, etc. were in such abundance and so regularly spoon fed to us that it was totally taken for granted. Soya for example was considered food for cows. Through the 90’s a specific disease developed that you might know as Scurvy. People didn’t eat vegetables, but it wasn’t the lack of vegetables so much as it was the richness of the Cuban diet, people expected meat. This attitude changed and remains changed today, Cubans eat more fruits and vegetables.”

“The other great thing the special period did for Cubans was to rewrite the dependence on socialist countries into more self reliance. Cuba began to be recognized for its ability to produce results for itself despite the siege around it. A double edged sword also occurred at this time and that was tourism. Until the 90’s Cuba had virtually no tourists, a few Canadians and some Russians. This increased dramatically and helped to develop many other industries in Cuba. There’s a quote about tourism being the locomotive of industry, as it pulls along and other cars begin to fall in behind. It happened like that and not just growth in hotels and restaurants but mining, petroleum, etc.”

“But we also started to experience other things along with the tourism, crimes that we hadn’t seen before and really had no laws in our criminal code to help us deal with them. Things like pimping and drug dealing; they appeared in the 90’s and it was confusing, creating new legislation on how to deal with these kinds of things. It was certainly a great period of learning. Tourism though quickly became our number one industry surpassing sugar cane which at one point in our history we lead the world in production.”

“You asked me how things have changed or progressed up to this date. I don’t know that they have progressed. There is an incredible lack of initiative among Cubans, this is due to a lack of incentive and our greatest resource, human potential, is wasted. There is certainly not enough housing for Cubans; it stunts development of both the people and the economy. It is hard to say where we will go from here, maybe I’m not the one to ask because I’ve had a pretty good life in Cuba, after all I grew up with and English teacher instead of a Russian teacher, but the future seems to me to be on a knife’s edge. A tremendous support comes from Venezuela, in the past Canada was our greatest supporter and ally and your Prime Minister Trudeau did a great honour to our country and our freedom. But now that other powers are in play, what happens in they fail, if Chavez gets sick and the tune of support stops playing for Cuba, we’ll feel that deeply, economically.”

“We are far more open to other non socialist countries now but we are still a third world nation and have a long way to go. If we should do something it should be to consider the Japanese who, with their cultural mindset, have mastered themselves and their small island. They could be a model in some way for us but again, I don’t know.”

For several evenings we sat on the porch with our good friend sipping fine Cuban rum, the soft scent of fresh tobacco and deep glow of a cigar’s ember pulsing across the evening table. Our friend told stories with great detail, having been in the middle of some fantastic events and lived through times and events that we have only read in books. An intellect, realist and proud Cuban, it was our pleasure to share his time.