Pura Vida Costa Rica!

Pura Vida! Massages in a rainforest spa and pina coladas in a hot springs swim up bar at the base of the Arenal Volcano ... Sipping daiquiries whilst sunbaking on the netting between catamaran hulls (yes Ken - ala Duran Duran) on my way to the palm-tree-fringed, white sand beaches of Tortuga island (yes I feel bad about eating the turtles now) before snorkelling over the coral reef ... doing it tough in Costa Rica ...

Last Day

Quiet-ish last day strolling, sightseeing (yes it IS a replica of the White House but bigger!) eating pastries (I figure I have to buy new clothes anyway - they might as well be a size bigger), sitting and drinking ... followed by a slightly surreal but fun night of intrigue involving policia, dinner and several bottles of rum .. leaving is going to be very very tough ..

More from Havana

New Year's Eve in Havana

A hilarious ride in a 1950s taxi to the grand 1930s Hotel National - a buffet the size of my front yard, wine, champagne, music, dancing - then more music and dancing and a huge fat cigar. Perfect New Years. Required a serious fry up the next morning to recover ...

Cienfuegos, Santa Clara and Che

My casa in Cienfuegos is teeny and I shared it with a few rowdy chickens but my casa mama is lovely and there was a bar five feet from my door. First stop - a stroll along the Malecon with views of the bay, then another stomach stretching home cooked meal, a couple of Maltas followed by a severe denting of Cubano pride (by winning four games of pool to one - on a table with so many ridges it looked like corrugated iron). Luckily they have a good sense of humour as well as machismo .. "Ese partido fue fabulosa! ".
From Cienfuegos to Havana we stop by Santa Clara - site of the monument, mausoleum and museum of Ernesto "Che" Guevara - and close to where he (and 18 other young rebels) derailed a train with 350 government troops using a borrowed bulldozer and some Molotov cocktails. A boxcar museum and bulldozer still stand there. It's a good thing I have given away all my trousers, fleece, shoes, books and toiletries so I have room for all my Che tee-shirts .. a decision I suspect I MAY regret when I arrive in San Fran mid-winter for my stop-over in shorts and thongs ...

More from Trinidad

Trinidad de Cuba

In Trinidad the transport appears to be equally divided between horse-drawn carts, bicycle taxis, vintage motor-bikes with side cars and ancient chevys. I chose to stay at a "casa particular" near the beach with Julio (who made the best pina coladas with fresh pineapple) and Chichi - who cooked feasts of lobster, prawns, fresh fish, yukka, "moros y christans" (literally Moors and Christians - rice flecked with beans) and turtle (I had given away my dictionary so how was I to know what Tortuga was!!). I had mojitos from a shack on the beach, met my first Santoria initiate (mixture of Catholism and Yoruba) dressed totally in white, had my first Cuban policia payoff (five pesos and a beer) and danced salsa at a nightclub in a cave - awesome town!!

More Camaguey

The streets in Camaguey were deliberately designed to confuse and disorientate invaders ... and a very successful plan it must have been as it confused and disorientated me and my amigos ...

A Camaguey Christmas

Well I had a jampacked Feliz Navidad in Camaguay. A ride through the winding streets to the farmers market, then beers and a Cha-cha lesson from Jose my bicycle cabbie, fresh coconut Coppelia icecream from the street, coffee from a flask on a window sill cafe, and even a Christmas dinner (with the traditional dessert of cheese and marmalade). Todo bien!!

Santiago de Cuba

A short seven hours by bus later (past Guantanamo Bay) and we were in Santiago de Cuba, busier and edgier than Barracoa it is home to the Moncado Barracks - site of a famous, albeit disastrous, attack of the Revolution and has many grisly photos and artifacts. My casa here, a beautiful old Colonial home, was run by Ilia who spoke no English (did I say my Spanish is improving exponentially!). A short ferry trip takes you to Cayo Grama, a small island dotted with wooden, red roofs and a great little seafood restaurant (don't believe the eguide books about Cuban cuisine being below par - I have the extra kilos to prove it!). At dusk we went to the Castillo de San Pedro de la Roco del Morro, an amazing citadel at the entrance to the harbour and watched another canon firing. Later that night a stroll up the street for a snack resulted in a marathon meal with amigos (two bottles of ron and about a tonne of pork chops) and a lesson about Que Lucha!! (roughly translated as "the daily struggle".