From Santiago our first hop back westwards took us to the resort of Guardalavaca on the north coast. A beautiful sand beach attracted the eye of the authorities looking to develop a resort. So the inhabitants of the little fishing village were re-housed half a mile inland in rather dull little flats, trading their traditional beachside huts with gardens for the benefits of plumbing and other mod. cons. – whether they liked it or not! Our casa particular was on the 4th floor of the block behind the car!!
The beach strip was then used to build three large “all-inclusive” hotels for (mainly Canadian) tourists. The beach was crowded outside the hotels, but it was possible to find quieter spots at either end, especially to the east where the fishermen’s huts still hang on, although they are threatened by the construction of another hotel. We went for lunch there in a Paladar which had its licence withdrawn because it competed with a state-run restaurant. The restaurant has since closed but they have not renewed the licence of the paladar! We were briefed to tell any passing inspectors that we were friends of the owners and had brought our own beer!
We also visited a major archaeological site – a pre-Hispanic Taino indian burial site with over 50 burials, excavated and preserved about 30 years ago. The period of the burials actually included the Spanish settlement of the island with a small number of European, African and mixed race individuals.
Nearby was a mock-up of a Taino village populated with life-sized papier-maché inhabitants! Magda was delighted to find one group doing a circle dance!!
From the tourism mecca we travelled to the distinctly un-touristy city of Holguín. We were surprised to find beggars, as mentioned previously, and the whole city was slightly sleazy and unhelpful. Service in the restaurants was distinctly soviet, in marked contrast to the rest of the island.
We even had trouble leaving as the bus broke down on the way and we waited an hour and a half for it to arrive. The problem was a loose drain screw on the sump. They managed to find some oil, but no container to put it in to take out to the bus! When that was solved the bus had to go to the workshop for a check-up. I must say that the lady in the bus station kept us well-informed, but with the uncomfortable proviso that we were waiting out on the street in the sun. They had to close the bus station for its programmed monthly fumigation – at 11.00 on a Saturday morning!!! The only plus point in Holguín was that Magda took a salsa class there.
The beach strip was then used to build three large “all-inclusive” hotels for (mainly Canadian) tourists. The beach was crowded outside the hotels, but it was possible to find quieter spots at either end, especially to the east where the fishermen’s huts still hang on, although they are threatened by the construction of another hotel. We went for lunch there in a Paladar which had its licence withdrawn because it competed with a state-run restaurant. The restaurant has since closed but they have not renewed the licence of the paladar! We were briefed to tell any passing inspectors that we were friends of the owners and had brought our own beer!
We also visited a major archaeological site – a pre-Hispanic Taino indian burial site with over 50 burials, excavated and preserved about 30 years ago. The period of the burials actually included the Spanish settlement of the island with a small number of European, African and mixed race individuals.
Nearby was a mock-up of a Taino village populated with life-sized papier-maché inhabitants! Magda was delighted to find one group doing a circle dance!!
From the tourism mecca we travelled to the distinctly un-touristy city of Holguín. We were surprised to find beggars, as mentioned previously, and the whole city was slightly sleazy and unhelpful. Service in the restaurants was distinctly soviet, in marked contrast to the rest of the island.
We even had trouble leaving as the bus broke down on the way and we waited an hour and a half for it to arrive. The problem was a loose drain screw on the sump. They managed to find some oil, but no container to put it in to take out to the bus! When that was solved the bus had to go to the workshop for a check-up. I must say that the lady in the bus station kept us well-informed, but with the uncomfortable proviso that we were waiting out on the street in the sun. They had to close the bus station for its programmed monthly fumigation – at 11.00 on a Saturday morning!!! The only plus point in Holguín was that Magda took a salsa class there.
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