 I
was looking forward to today, and the chance to visit the Presidio
Modelo Prison which lies 5km east of the town I was staying in, Nueva
Gerona. My first job was to take a walk up town and visit the chap
who rents bicycles. He was so pleased to see me, I think because I
am the only tourist in town at the moment. As a token of his appreciation
he gave me a lovely bracelet and necklace made out of fired clay.
I agreed to see him back here at 5pm and headed out east.
It
was another hot day and I was sweltering in no time at all. The
gentle climb upwards towards the prison nearly finished me off.
I put this down to the evening heat that was making sleep difficult
for me.
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You
can clearly see the marks on the walls of the landings where
the bars would have been.
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The
entrance to the prison is quite a charm, a colonial styled building
with a sweeping staircase and marbled floors. However the real business
of incarceration lies at the rear. Here you find four enormous circular
yellow buildings that sit diagonally opposite to each other.
Once
inside the atmosphere is overwhelming, creepy and oppressive. The
building - big as it is, was once home to over a thousand men. Looking
up you can see five landings arching round in a perfect circle.
On the walls are the marks where the bars once sat. Then in the
centre is a tower not unlike a lighthouse. This was where a single
guard patrolled, moving round the tiny walkway at the top, rifle
in hand. He would then send out a warning shot, should anybody misbehave.
Stepping
into an individual cell was depressing enough, worse still when
I found out that they were designed to house two prisoners. Some
of the cell walls were decorated with graffiti-both old and new.
Others had amazingly detailed artwork, one in particular had a map
of the world. I made my way to the northern end of the block to
see what kind of view was on offer. I’m not sure the vista
would have been a blessing or a curse; a bird's eye view of the
bay where the prisoners were shipped in and an equally splendid
view of the ocean….
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This
detailed map is on one of the cell walls.
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I then
took a tour round the hospital wing where the political prisoners
like Fidel Castro were held. Above one of the beds was a mugshot
of the man himself. Without the fiery beard he looked disturbingly
normal. Further on I was shown his bed which was tiny, far too small
for a man well over six feet in height. Next to this was a small
display cabinet that housed his radio. But the thing that impressed
me most of all was his copy of ‘Das Capital,’- the seminal
text written by Karl Marx. Incredible to think that this was the
self-same book that had inspired Cuba’s famous revolution.
I left
the prison having enjoyed every moment. After a quick splash in
the ocean I headed back to the Casa and had fell into a deep sleep.
I was awoken by my landlord, Rey who suggested that we visit Angel,
the Ferry captain. He lived two blocks away and we were there in
two minutes.
I expected
the house to be as well furnished as Rey’s, on account of him
being a captain. Instead, we entered a humble, sparsely lit apartment
that had very little in the way of furniture. But the hospitality
was perfect. After plying us with coffee and biscuits, Angel showed
me his collection of English memorabilia, pictures of Buckingham
Palace and the Houses of Parliament. His dream was to one day step
on English soil and visit our famous landmarks.
Rey,
Angel and his wife chatted away in Spanish-most of which I understood
so I didn’t feel left out. As the conversation continued my
eye wandered onto the wall opposite where I noticed a rather splendid
plaque. Angel it seems, had trained as a teacher some years back
but later made the decision to become a merchant seaman.
As
the night wore on I felt increasingly tired and my stifled yawns
were noticed by everyone. We thanked them for coffee and biscuits
and departed. Back at Rey’s we chatted about my itinery and
I got to thinking that perhaps it was time to hit the road again.
Rey suggested that tomorrow being Sunday, I might like to join him
and the family for a spot of dinner at a nearby restaurant. This
is why I cannot recommend the Casas Particulares enough to any would
be visitor to Cuba. Outstanding value for money aside, this is the
way to experience the the real Cuba. Not only that, but  you
also get to meet some great characters. The idea of hotels and tourist
driven agendas just fills me with dread.
The
views expressed on this page are those of the contributor and the
opinions expressed are not necessarily those of the BBC.
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