Riding Back in Time
Travel Story : Egle Gerulaityte - cuba
Riding Back in Time
Riding Cuba is like traveling in a living open air museum : Cienfuegos to Havana is a short distance , but the eerily empty freeway and an odd 1950 ’ s Chevrolet passing by would instantly transport me half a century back in time . Most cars in Cuba are masterpieces of the early fifties : they were the last vehicles imported from the US since then .
The atmosphere in Cuba is distinctly different from the vibes of Mexico or South America . Cubans are exceptionally friendly and helpful people ; yes , a lot of travelers say that about almost all countries around the globe but in Cuba the hospitality and the warmth are really out of this world . Even though my bike was the centre of attention everywhere I went ( big motorcycles are an extremely rare sight in Cuba ), people would first ask if taking photos was OK and only then get their phones and cameras out . I felt I and my belongings were completely safe everywhere on the island and the local people who I stayed with were incredibly kind and accommodating .
The scars and shadows of the past still linger though . Sometimes , people would make ‘ hush – hush ’ gestures and look around them before telling me things Fidel probably wouldn ’ t approve of ; even though the younger generation is more relaxed and hopeful about the future , some still live in the conditions and fears of the fifties .
Speaking of Fidel , though , there is a remote possibility that I ’ ve come upon his lair by accident . As I was riding from Havana to Varadero I turned into a side road and rode past an enormously big house with a garage door open ; two men were sitting by the entrance . I didn ’ t think much of it and went right past it , stopping at the end of the road and getting off my bike to take a better shot of the ocean . Two military – looking men approached me and told me I wasn ’ t allowed to be there ; I asked them why , but they just said , ‘ you need to leave ’. ‘ No problem , I ’ ll just take a photo and go ’, - I assured them , but they insisted I should depart immediately . When I asked why , they just tapped their shoulders with three fingers and made a gesture as if stroking a long beard , whispering , ‘ el grande jefe ’ (‘ the big boss ’). In Cuba , there is only one three - star general who sports a striking beard , and that ’ s Fidel .
Did I really stumble upon Castro ’ s hideout ? I ’ ll never know , but that encounter left me wondering .
At the same time , most encounters in Cuba were memorable . I remember speaking to a cycle taxi driver who used to be a history teacher . As an educator , he ’ d earn 23 US dollars a month . Now , driving his rickshaw , he ’ d make that in a day . Cuba and capitalism were finally getting along .
The time warp was still evident , though . I was chatting to my host Jorge in Havana , as I was packing the bike and getting ready to leave . His father came out to have a closer look and was intrigued by the GPS unit on the bike . I told him that this was my ‘ electronic map ’; he looked confused , so I proceeded explaining that it worked with the help of satellites – they ’ d beam a signal from the sky and read my exact location . The old man stared at me in disbelief and then looked up at the sky trying to spot a satellite . ’ I ’ ll explain it later , dad …’, - said Jorge .