Refried Neurons

We were leaving Havana for a week and a bit, but we were planning to come back for one night before the flight, we both felt we still hadn’t seen everything.

Our host ordered us a taxi colectivo and allowed us to leave one big backpack behind, full of my winter clothes. Straight after breakfast we heard a horn – our ride was waiting downstairs.

Travelling around Cuba can be as boring as in Europe (bus), but it can also be so much more. Taxi colectivo is basically a shared taxi that picks up random people travelling in the same direction. Something like UberX – just without the app.

Our ride for the day was an 8-passenger vintage car. Extra seats had been added in the boot, so all the bags went onto the roof. Nicely squeezed inside, no air conditioning, we headed towards Playa Girón.

Cuba has motorways connecting big towns, but like many buildings they haven’t been maintained for years. Plenty of potholes. But what surprised me more was seeing horse-drawn carriages, bikes and even pedestrians using them. Considering our colectivo was old and didn’t have the best brakes, we were going pretty fast. I was quietly praying our bags would still be on the roof by the time we reached Girón.

Cuba is green and wild, with endless sugar cane fields and even more abandoned ones. During yesterday’s walk we heard that it makes little sense for farmers to farm their land. After the revolution, people were given land, but many couldn’t read or write and didn’t realise that 90% of their produce had to be handed back to the state. So now some prefer to leave it rather than work all year for 10% and still be hungry.

Our first stop was random. We pulled off the main road next to a block of flats and were asked to pay. Once the driver collected the cash and some of us started to worry he might just leave us there another bloke appeared, took the money and we were on our way again.

We had nice company in our colectivo, so we spent most of the 3-hour ride chatting about everyone’s plans in Cuba. Which helped, because although the car was very Instagrammable, it wasn’t comfortable. On potholes it was properly bumpy. The brakes weren’t great. Not everyone on the motorway followed the rules. There were a few moments when I thought we would die instantly. But our driver was skilled.

We arrived in Playa Girón in the afternoon and immediately had an issue with accommodation, addresses are not really a thing in Cuba. All we knew was the name: Castillo Rojo. Red Castle.

After our driver spoke to a few locals, we were finally dropped off in front of the quirkiest house I’d seen so far. Most houses in the village had a soft, beachy colonial vibe. Ours was shouting: Look at me, I’m a castle! Someone had really committed to the vision, it looked like a castle drawn by a five-year-old. But to be honest… why the f.. not? In a place with so many troubles, if building yourself a castle makes you happy, just go for it.

And yes, we did see the photos before booking. We booked with full premeditation – to stay in the castle.

Our host was lovely. We were welcomed with mojitos and miracle – she gave me shampoo. It was hers, in a plastic bag (like a refill), but she said I could use it for the next three nights. I wasn’t planning to complain. We had shampoo.

The house had a lovely garden with outdoor seating, a nice change after busy Havana.

Hungry, we headed to the beach. We thought it was much closer. It wasn’t far, but in the afternoon heat it felt like miles.

We passed a baseball field and a big government holiday resort stretching along the beach before reaching tiny Playa Coco. It was charming, though most of the beach area had been taken over by the resort. The remaining part was narrow, dotted with small boats, which actually made it look even more charming.

Most importantly, there were a few small sheds serving food and drinks. After days of hamonada, kebab and street food, we were hoping for fish.

And they had fish. Super fresh, caught and grilled when someone ordered. Served with salad. It was delicious. A bit bony, but delicious.

After a beer, we walked to the resort to find the only dive centre in town. The Bay of Pigs is meant to be one of the best diving spots in Cuba (apart from liveaboards), so we were really hoping they had availability.

The resort, run by the government, had small holiday cottages and reminded us of childhood in Poland. We also had government-run resorts dedicated to particular industries. You couldn’t book them privately, your workplace allocated you a spot. Either that, or nothing.

They were refurbished, but I still preferred our homestay.

At the dive centre we found… no one. A security guard came over and when he understood we wanted to go diving, he simply said: “Tomorrow. Eight.” That was it.

Playa Girón is basically four streets crossing each other. Small cottages, a few blocks of flats. Along the road parallel to the beach there are a few restaurants, cafés and unofficial mini shops. We stopped for coffee, surprisingly good. No milk though.

By the time we walked back to our Castle we were slightly sunburnt, dehydrated and tired. It was time for shower and shampoo. My hair was a disgrace. I did learn that if you want volume and stiffness good enough for modelling – use bar soap. It works for a day or two. After that, you can’t even comb through it.

After a well-deserved rest and a homemade mojito, we headed out for dinner.

Our host wasn’t pleased we weren’t staying for her dinner. She also wasn’t pleased we had booked diving ourselves. She insisted she call them, that they would pick us up from her house. We insisted on walking in the morning. It definitely looked like she might get something extra for providing customers, or maybe she was just being helpful and we were unfair. Either way, we let her book it for the next day.

Surprisingly, there are quite a few places to eat in Playa Girón. All serving the same food: crocodile, turtle, chicken or beef with rice, tomato and shredded cabbage. We were spoiled for choice.

Crocodiles are farmed in Cuba, so I felt slightly less guilty eating that than turtle.

Bellies full, slightly sunburnt, and with diving planned for the morning – early night.

Tomorrow: underwater.