May 5, 2007 at 2.03 am · Filed under food, travel, Cuba, Holguin
After last night’s occurrences (a train wreck of a pizza, exceptional dance lessons from the exceptional local girls and enough rum to stun a sturdy mule), 10.00a came along pretty early as did Fernando with news of breakfast waiting downstairs.
Apparently, upon learning that I was a cook, the Senora of the house, may God bless her, decided to pull out all the stops, something not easily done in heavily rationed Cuba. Now in my short experience, a local deciding to go whole hog has almost always ended on my near death from obligatory overeating (read “Spanish Fish and Egg Debacle”). This was, in no way, an exception nor was it something I was mentally or physically prepared for. I soon noted a sharp difference though: It was the best food I’d eaten in Cuba. A chopped fruit salad of banana, guava, & pineapple, ham, cheese, green olives, chopped cabbage salad, black beans wtih pork skin, Tortilla Espagnola, fresh orange juice and scalding hot cafe con leche. I was all but weeping as I tried to field good natured inquiries about the quality of the food. As she asked for suggestions, I, in my sleep addled Spanish assured her that she, was in fact, the teacher and I her student and that the only thing that was missing was a ceremonious bibbity-bobbity-boo from her centuries old wooden spoon.
With Fernando off to a “free day” in Holguin, I clambered back upstairs to lazy breezes, warm Cuban sun and a solid dose of Louis L’Amour. After a slow nap, I spent the rest of the now late afternoon talking life and politics in Cuba with Alain over a bottle of rum. If just one thing could be learned from the Cuban people, I feel it would be the preserving power of pride, accepting a poor deal in life and playing it as if it were a flush.
Alain poured me a thumb of Havana Club and I said “I hope one day Cuba gets its freedom.”
“May it never change,” he replied.
We clinked glasses and drank.
- Last Meal:: Breakfast Burrito for dinner
- Listening to:: British Sea Power
May 3, 2007 at 2.51 am · Filed under food, travel, Cuba, Holguin
After a night’s rest and a weird ham sandwich for breakfast, we found that Baracoa came up shy of its glimmering recommendations so we pulled up stakes and headed back west for the small town of Holguin. Desperate for something, anything, to eat, we slowed the car in front of a woman dangling cones of an unknown make or origin from her fingers. For a nickel we found ourselves digging through dulce de coco, an indescribable paste of smoked coconut and palm sugar. After three finger scoops (we’d no spoons so it was God’s dining utensils for us), the cloyingly sweet mix sent me into a light diabetic coma lasting until the rumble of the pavement outside of Holguin shook me to.
Full of vigor, Holguin proved to be the Cuba I had always imagined; rife with grumbling old cars sputtering through the narrow streets and even older men squabbling through cigar stained mustaches over domino tables in the park. Even the nimble breezes from the Atlantic that tip-toed around crumbling corners seemed to whisper of happier times.
We quickly found a place to stay: two rooms in a local family’s home tucked neatly between the central park and the town’s almost ridiculously large baseball stadium.
Finding a tiny Spanish restaurant with a colonial era garden, we elbowed up to ceramic pots of nuclear-hot paella, crisp and vinegary cucumber salad and Cerveza Cristal bubbling lazily in jelly jars. I was slowly beginning to see that there is definitely good food to be had in Cuba. You just have to head off the beaten track and do some hunting to find it (and besides, chances are, you’ll be so hungry by the time you find it, it won’t matter if it’s all that great).
As our late lunch settled, we meandered through the vibrating streets while the Holguineros, in spite of our presence, went about their business. Back at home beneath an ancient ceiling fan slowly stirring the already cool afternoon air sleep wasn’t too far off, nor was a late night out on the town.
- Last Meal:: Gallo Pinto and Queso Frito
- Listening to:: Youth Group
- Location:: Casa Luna, Tamarindo, Costa Rica
