It's 3am. I've just got off a bus from Havana with my daughter after a seven-hour journey. We're within spitting distance of the back of beyond in Ciego de Avila, the provincial town of an agricultural region in Cuba. Both of the hotels are full. A helpful taxi driver wakes up far too many people until, at last, we find a room. We're here to see, well, you don't even need to say his name in Cuba, a mere stroke of the chin lets everyone know who you're talking about.
We discover "stroke of chin" is speaking at 7.30 in the morning to avoid the midday sun. After very little sleep (there's a real carnival atmosphere in the streets of Ciego de Avila) we make our way to Revolution Square in time to hear the speeches by local party members.
There are thousands of people here, maybe 50,000 all waving Cuban flags.
It's like the Jubilee in London. The difference being we appear to be the only tourists and, being blond, stand out like sore thumbs.
At around 8am, Fidel takes the stage in his combat gear. I can't believe how tall he is. He looks very healthy. He's also got exceptionally well-manicured hands. He's in fine form cracking jokes as he denounces the economic policies of the US.
From what I've seen so far in our travels, the support for the revolution and Fidel seems really strong in the rural areas. A lot of the people here today have been trucked in from the surrounding farms and villages. I can feel someone staring at me. It's an old man standing beside us. He's grimacing and muttering about "Norteamericanos". A disconcerting moment as behind Fidel on the stage are huge pictures of the five Cubans currently in prison in Miami on spying charges. "Prisoners of Imperialism" is in large letters underneath. Fortunately, the old man shrugs and walks away when I tell him we're from Scotland.
Fidel ends his speech saying, "On this historical date for Cubans, I can assure you that we wish for a sincere, respectful and fraternal friendship between the peoples of Cuba and the United States."
Gill Davies
