 Last
night had to be one of the worst sleeps yet. The bed felt like a bag
of porridge. I threw a bit of caffeine into my system and I felt like
new again. After breakfast I made my way to the front door. The door
itself was a huge blue affair. Once outside it you were in the middle
of the hustle and bustle of the city. But inside, you were enveloped
in peace and tranquillity, a world apart.
I went
off in search of the famed Punta Gorda (Fat Point). This famous
landmark had fired my imagination back in England. I used to lie
in bed at night reading the travel guide and wonder if I’d
ever see this place for real.
En
route, I stopped off at the bay area to take some pictures. Sitting
on a wall, I took in the lovely view. In the distance I could hear
some deep African beats. I decided to follow the music and ended
up at a small al-fresco bar that faced the sea. Next to the bar
was a small stage, where some ballet dancers were rehearsing. I
sat admiring the show and eventually plucked up the courage to ask
the name of the music they were dancing to. One of the ballet dancers
kindly wrote the name down for me in my travel book. He also told
me that they were having their first performance that evening.
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Palacio
Del Valle
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Further
down the seafront I called into a number of small eateries to buy
coffee. “No hay electricidad en este momento (no electricity).”
As I reached the Punta Gorda I was transfixed by a large green palatial
mansion. Moorish in design and called the Palacio del Valle. It
was built in 1917 by a Spaniard called Oclico Blanco. There was
some confusion as to whether the building was ever used as a casino
before the 1959 revolution. Now it is a fine restaurant and affords
some incredible views across the bay.
Opposite
the Palacio del Valle is the hotel Jagua. I have a sneaking suspicion
that this is where my beloved photograph of the Punta Gorda was
taken. I hung around the gardens pretending to be a guest and slipped
in through a side door. I made my way up to the top balcony and
there was the self same vista as in the photograph. The sun however,
is directly facing me so I leave it till later.
Outside
the hotel I took a ‘caballo y carro’ (horse and cart)
ride into town. I bought some provisions for sandwiches and take
a siesta. Some time later I returned to the hotel Jagua and shoot
off some pictures. Down in the lobby new guests were arriving. There’s
a pair of attractive dancers to welcome them. The whole thing seems
so plastic and false. The air conditioning, mass produced carvings
and gifts, porters for your bags, dinner at six. In a way I feel
sorry for the wealthier travellers. They never quite manage to leave
the cocoon that security and money brings. And in the same way that
they never truly connect with the places they visit.
Back
on the mean streets on Cienfuegos I made my way back to the Casa.
My measly supper of tomato soup was kindly supplemented by some
rice from the owner’s wife. I then took off to the bar to watch
the ballet dancers show. Outside the locals are all wearing jackets
and appear to be feeling the change in temperature. On the door
I am asked for $6, which is a sharp increase form the $2 I was quoted
earlier in the day. I refuse to pay it and go home.
I placed
the bag of porridge on the floor  and
manoeuvred into it. On the floor it takes on an altogether more
comfortable aspect. That and the recent drop in temperature ensures
a good nights sleep.
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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