Beach day number two - our last full day in Cuba. We taxied to Playa Santa Maria, only a kilometer or so west of Mi Cayito, our Tuesday beach destination. Santa Maria is a bit more commercial with a hotel immediately to the west, and just a few hundred yards away from the beach, a couple of very small outdoor restaurants. It is a beautiful spot with the usual chairs and parasols for rent. Alfredo, who greeted us on arrival by out-maneuvering other potential attendants, led us to our chairs. Fredo said he'd be back to collect for the chairs and to get us beverages.
After settling in, another man walked over and said that we had to pay him for our chairs. Being a bit deficient in Spanish debate technique, we had to duck out and let the competing forces work it out. Eventually they came to an agreement, we paid the second guy, and the rest of our day continued in peace with Fredo bringing us mojitos and coconut waters. We ordered some lunch through Fredo, but because all we could get was fried foods, we also walked to a small food tienda a couple of blocks away. It took over 40 minutes for them to make two simple ham sandwiches, the antithesis of fast-food I guess.
The day eventually turned cloudy and even stormy to the north, with black clouds and strong wind but no rain to dampen our spirits. This is winter in Cuba so not only did the vast majority bail out as it cooled a bit, but there were very few beach-goers to begin with at what is one of the most beautiful and typically crowded beaches within an hour drive of Havana. With increasing wind the waves grew quite large though - anyone in the water had to hang pretty close to shore to avoid the heavy rip tide and undertow developing. By the time we left, we had to collapse our parasol and secure it to keep it from blowing away as wind was gusting well into the 30 knot zone. The only people remaining were a handful of tourists, a few Cubans hunkered down behind tarps waiting for their tips, and a couple of kite-boarders who were having the time of their lives. Despite the conditions which drove most everyone else away, we were feeling warm since it was still in the 70s.
We witnessed a very unorthodox maneuver as Fredo returned to clean up and collect his final tip. He gathered our mostly disposable paper and plastic plates, cups, etc., and headed off toward the service area. 20 meters away was a trash receptacle, a rough, wood framed, multi-legged structure, wide open on all sides and evidently designed to hold a trash bag, however, there was clearly no bag. As Fredo walked by he casually tossed our trash into the container where it immediately fell out onto the beach and began to blow away in the strong wind. I still don't know exactly what to say about the event, but in my mind it conveys a lot about the Cuban attitude, at least as minimally as we've had a chance to observe and comprehend it.
Asking for public bathrooms before departure returned a suggestion to stroll over the dunes and find a spot of trees or bushes to hide behind, of which there were few. There were obviously many others who previously had the same need as there was toilet paper strewn about and a smell of urine surrounding the nearby mini grove of trees barely sufficient to hide your activity from clear sight of the hotel. Our morning taxi driver was waiting for us as requested for the return trip.
In need of some relaxation after a demanding day at the beach, we sat for a while on our balcony after returning home, evaluating fine Cuban rums and smoking very pleasant and flavorful Cuban cigars. For dinner, we rode with our friends and the twins to the Rio Mar restaurant perched over the Rio Almendares, a river under which we traveled via a tunnel every time we motored toward downtown Havana. It would be our last night in Havana so in some measure, we were celebrating. Again, this was a nice restaurant with good quality food at reasonable prices and a great atmosphere. And again, our friends knew the staff and several patrons as well, making it grand social event. Next-door on an unidentified building, a balcony overhung on a cantilever about 20 feet over the river. This would be shut down in a heartbeat in the USA due to safety concerns, especially since the cantilever was formed of concrete and some sort of invisible internal reinforcement, probably something substandard and corroding, hanging right over brackish salty water.
