Andy had us up and ready to leave pretty early, we had a long driving day today; thankfully Jorge was already at the minibus with the aircon on. We were headed to Camagüey via Bayamo and Las Tunas.
After a few hours of driving on the highway alongside small fields growing wtf we stopped at a simple outdoor ‘restaurant’ in La Tunas. The proprietors seemed to be good mates of Andy’s, why wouldn’t they, Andy probably dumps a load of tourists here every week for lunch. Food was simple, passable – the usual fare of anorexic chicken, a bit of bread and I had water to wash it down.
Onwards to Bayamo.
Paseo Bayamés – Calle General Garcia
Notes:
Parque Cespedes, Paseo Bayamés = Paseo Boulevar (coloq) = Calle General Garcia, Catedral Del Santisimo Salvador de Bayamo – Manzanillo, Muceo Provincial Manuel Muñoz Cedeño, Casa Natal De Carlos Manuel De Cespedes
Camagüey
Nice casa
Dinner at outdoor Restaurant 1800. Sirloin steak 16.50
A little rain, sheet lighting mild evening.
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Hitting the Road: Camagüey Bound
Andy had us up and ready to leave Santiago pretty early, rallying the troops for a long day on the road. Thankfully, Jorge, our driver and lord of the air-conditioning, had the minibus running, sparing us from an early-morning sauna session. Today’s route, continuing along the Carretera Central: Camagüey, via Bayamo and Las Tunas—a thrilling expedition past endless fields of… something. Crops? Grass? Government-approved weeds? Hard to say, but to be fair Cuba, especially in the east of the country, was suffering a severe drought.
Las Tunas – Lunch Stop with Benefits
After a few hours of featureless highway, we pulled into Las Tunas for lunch at an “outdoor restaurant,” which is to say, some plastic chairs and a roof that may or may not have been structurally sound. Andy, ever the social butterfly, was clearly best mates with the owners, probably because he funnels a new batch of clueless foreigners here every week.
Lunch was the usual anorexic chicken, some bread, and a bottle of water to help wash it all down. No one burst into spontaneous applause, but we survived, after all, it has been said that the three worst things about Cuba is: Breakfast, Lunch and Dinner.
Bayamo – Independence, Art, and Ice Cream Diplomacy
Bayamo is Cuba’s revolutionary heartland, but more importantly, it had ice cream—a far more pressing concern given the heat. Walking along the Paseo Bayamés or, Calle General Garcia, because street names here are multi-choice, we decided a cold treat would be just the thing to finally kill lunch.
Through some mysterious combination of poor Spanish and an overenthusiastic vendor, I somehow ended up with two ice creams. Never one to waste food—or whatever category Cuban ice cream falls into, I figured I’d offer the extra one to a random local. He seemed delighted. Job well done, I thought.
Only later did it occur to me: had I just come across as the Great White Benefactor? Was this a genuine act of goodwill, or did I just unwittingly stage my own budget-friendly colonial reenactment? Hard to say. Either way, the ice cream was cold, and lunch was vanquished.
Also of note: along the boulevard were sculptures of giant tubes of paint, presumably celebrating Bayamo’s artistic spirit, or possibly just leftover props from an avant-garde protest. Either way, they added a splash of colour to the usual colonial architecture. We walked as far as yet another Parque Céspedes, took a few photos and then back on the road.
Camagüey – A Proper Bed and a Decent Steak
When we reached Camagüey we were immediatley treated to a ride through town in a bicitaxi. Tony and me paired off and Ayrton was the powertrain following the convoy. After our fun, which actually is the means for most Cubans to travel around town, we checked into a nice casa which felt like the Ritz. Later in the evening, in Plaza San Juan de Dios I had a brief encounter with Mr Thumbs Up – we were both speaking in braille well enough to understand that he was after a few US dollars. I politely took my exit to join the group who were already seated at Restaurante 1800, an outdoor spot. Here I finally had a meal that didn’t involve poultry on a hunger strike: a sirloin steak for 16.50. Practically luxury dining.
The evening wrapped up with a light rain shower and some sheet lightning, adding a dramatic flourish to the day. Full stomach, decent bed, and no unintended displays of cultural awkwardness—well, apart from the ice cream incident. But let’s not dwell, we’re in Camagüey and it’s time to explore. Tomorrow.