2014 Cuba


I so enjoyed Cuba the previous year that I knew I would have to return before relations with the USA were normalised, so when I left Portsmouth going south it was time in the Bahamas or more time in Cuba.  The American crew had not been to Cuba so it was a good opportunity for her to see the real thing. Unfortunately her conduct while in Cuba would has only left a bad impression. In my case it set the scene for her departure.
We came in through the headlands overlooked by the famous Spanish castle at the entrance to the Santiago de Cuba harbour just after dark.  The channel was well lit and the GPS and charts are very good. I had been here before so knew my way towards the marina but you have to be careful that you do not encounter a large ship exiting the narrow entrance. The low fuel situation just added to the stress of landfall but when I called the Marina on VHF to inform them I was entering i received the normal warm welcome. We were going to make it without a mishap or running out of fuel.
We approached the Marina which is on the southern tip of a peninsular on the eastern shore of the inlet. I dropped anchor off their eastern quay, folded the sails and put Malua away after a good and successful ocean passage. I poured two strong rums and settled down to cook a great meal before falling a sleep into a deep and well deserved rest.

The Drug Squad

The following day I again contacted the marina manager who asked me to come alongside and wait for the authorities to arrive which they did within the hour.  As always in Cuba there are many many forms to fill out.  I had previously prepared a sheet of paper with all Malua and her crew's details in both English and Spanish. This helped the situation as each authority did not have to ask the same question.  The first to board was quarantine and the Doctor.  All the normal questions about sickness, plague or death on board.  How are we feeling?  Are we sick or feeling off colour etc etc. Then the stamp on a form and they stepped off the vessel. Next came the immigration and port authorities. They are always easy so that did not take much time. The last is customs and the drug squad.  They either give you a very cursory check like last time or do a very thorough job.  There are three men in big boots.  The boss plus one other plus a dog “handler” Well this time our profile must have set the alarm bells ringing. They did the usual, open every cupboard and look inside with a hap hazed search then came a sniffer dog. The dog, a black Labrador was completely uncontrolled and on instruction jumped on top of everything and was guided to every possible corner of the boat. No untoward smell for him but wait there is more.  A second dog was introduce who while more controlled still went over everything. Just when I thought that it was all over they asked me to open the hatched in the cabin sole to look in the bilge.... nothing then they asked me to remove a screwed in panel along side the main cabin bunk.  Well what would they find, some old shaving and may be a few grinding of some fibreglass.  Out came the torches and dogs but nothing.  Uncontrolled the dog bounded towards the companionway and struggle to get up the five steps into the cockpit.  His claws scratched the varnish.  That was the end for me and I immediately approached the senior officer and started to complain that they need to control the dog. I was on a roll after being subjected to close scrutiny for mare than an hour.  What did it get me?  Nothing but a reduction in pressure build up.
I found out at sundowners the following day that the German yacht next to us had had a similar experience and the authorities found some drugs. The owner had to pay an on the spot fine and was warned that if he did it again it would be goal.

My Local Friends

Having now entered the country in a fashion quite different from my last experience when I was alone I needed to get to meet some of my local friends.  I walked out the marina and down the road to Pedro's house.  Still the same three roomed run down establishment.  His wife Rose was home but the husband and son where out.  I had prepared a few bags of goodies I knew they needed like sport shoes, walking shoes, T-shirts and electrical items.  They where well received and Rose offered to do my washing. Not much but a way I could increase their supply of US dollars.  I soon contacted the friendly private taxi to take me to the airport to change my dollars into local currency, the CUC and then on to the international hotel to purchase time on the Internet to send an update.  Like always in Cuba the Internet is sloooow so updating used up most of my hour and downloading more than a weeks worth of email grinds on.
After this we where back in the car to find some food and return to the marina.  I dropped in to Pedro's house to a warm greeting.  He had done well off me the last time I was in town but now I was wiser and had the experience to know how to handle my money.  We agreed the terms that if I gave him money to purchase goods for me I would pay the going rate for locals and after settling I would give him a commission.  Things started off well for a few vegetables however when we came to get some ham and smoked pork it started to fall apart.  I parted with much too much money and only got half the quantity we actually purchased.  The following morning I was asked if I would like to go to a music club.  Now I had been bitten the previous year by Pedro's son who took me to two clubs.  The first was good but the second was in a hotel.  We entered via the locals entrance – I had to show some ID but that was nothing.  Then came the drinks: “it is cheaper to buy a case of beers (24) than singly” Ok one case but when he ordered the second I started to object but it was too late.  The story gets worse but that is now water under the bridge.  Pedro knew the score so we set off for an evening of music in Santiago.  After visiting a number of music clubs where there was either music for tourists or no music we settled on a club way out of town.
There was some negotiation about the entrance charge but Pedro seemed to settle that.  We joined a table of two young couples with only one being able to understand a few words of English.  We had a few laughs, more than a few drinks which Pedro had organised via a waitress to be purchased from the bar across the street and secretly given to us each time we ran low.  A sort of BYO but not official.  The food as always was good and quite inexpensive.  In fact a good time was had by all but I was fading fast and needed to get home to sleep.  We exited the club and called our private taxi who took us back to the marina.  This is when the pressure started to be put on me to pay an extraordinary amount of money for the two way trip into Santiago usually about $40 CUC.  I gave the driver $50 and flatly refused to give any more.  He and Pedro lost my and many other people's custom that night.  I switched to another taxi.
I returned to Malua to find the crew missing.  She stumbled down the companionway as dawn broke, completely drunk out of her mind.  She had also lost her money, purse and bag.  I found them the following day on the dock along with some wink wink, nudge nudge, from two young lads about my crew being a fun girl!  That was only the start. Their phone photos told more than that.

An Inexperienced Traveler

Along the other side of the wharf was the German yacht and its four crew while astern of them was a New Zealand yacht with Captain and crew.  The Captain's son was scheduled to arrive that day from NZ on his first overseas trip.  I spent a great evening on board watching the crew, Lizzie's videos of her Galapagos and the Amazon tour.  What a professional production.  The captain's son had done the editing.  We had just finished a great screening when my crew arrived with the German boat's crew asking the son to join them to go to a night club in Santiago.  Off they went.
Some time after midnight my crew appeared to say the son was missing and the father should drive into the city to find his son.  A very worrying turn of events.  The father return to the marina at dawn with son in tow.  He had been led astray by some locals lads while trying to find a taxi.  They beat him up and took his money.  He stumbled to the hospital who fixed him up and assisted him to the police station.  The father after searching the town started back to the marina in the taxi but was stopped by the police.  He explained his situation and the local cops phoned the central station only to be told the son was there.  A relieved father collected his son, a much wiser lad.  My crew arrived back on board well after dawn only to leave a few hour later for some land travel which is a story in itself.

Refuelling

With the crew gone I was able to focus on Malua and the refuelling task.  I had ordered 200 litres of diesel to be delivered to the wharf which was arrived in a 110 l steel drum with the remainder in ten plastic jugs or jerrycans.  The challenge was to transfer and filter that quantity into the two tanks on Malua.  I had set up a good fuel/water (Baja) filter which would do the job and a 12 volt electric transfer pump so it was only a case of lifting the jugs onto the boat, switching the pump on and waiting for the container to empty.  It went surprisingly quickly with little mess and no water or grit in the filter all for a price of about 1 CUC ($1.10) a litre.  Malua was now ready to embark on the next leg of the journey.  I only needed to top up fresh fruit provisions and a good quantity of local rum.

Cuban Rum

Like most Caribbean countries who grow sugar cane Cuba makes great rum.  The world famous brand is Havana Club while it is very good and range in price from 8 CUC per bottle to much much more the best value rum is that which the locals are able to purchase for their own consumption.  To get a large quantity I had to turn again to Pedro for help.  We set off with my two 10 litre plastic containers to meet a woman who “had” a quantity for sale.  We arrive and like everything that Pedro touched it had a catch.  We had to wait – only 20 minutes while Pedro and the daughter would go to fetch the rum.  Two hours later they returned with a full 25 litre paint container of my rum.  I was prepared for the inevitable haggle about the pre-agreed price but this time I had only brought the correct amount 5 CUC per litre.  Malua was now supplied with all the correct liquids.  “No Officer that 10 litre container in the food cupboard is not rum but dark vinegar…..you can see the label.” What a good drop that was, lasting all the way across the Pacific to Fiji.

Time to Leave

The crew returned with a series of tales about her land travel and the people she had met.  An real eye opener for a girl from the USA.  It was time to leave.  I had refuelled, re-provisioned, washed the boat and washed most damp and wet things.  The official check-out went smoothly and without hitch.  I said farewell to the New Zealand yacht not knowing how that contact would unfold down the line.  We where off to Panama or so I thought.  Follow our cruise to the next stage here….

Some photos here

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