Sugar mills, yuca root and beautiful beaches: A post-Fidel trip to Cuba.
The beaches and mainland are only part of its diverse story
Just weeks after Cuba’s former president Fidel Castro was laid to rest, I took my first trip to the nation, whose story I’ve only read in media and history books. Last week, I wrote about visiting the province of Cienfuegos. This week, I’ ll share my experiences in two more of Cuba’s 14 provinces – Sancti Spíritus and Villa Clara – where our post- Fidel itinerary took us.
SANCTI SPÍRITUS
We stop in at The Hacienda Iznaga in the Valle de los Ingenios ( Valley of the Sugar Mills), a short trip by bus or rail from the provincial capital of Trinidad. At its height, there were 50 working sugar mills in the region, none more beautiful than Hacienda Iznaga. Trinidad and the valley both received World Heritage status in 1988.
For lunch or dinner, the plantation house dishes up local cuisine to the sound of “son,” a unique blend of Spanish and African music, and American jazz. Whet your appetite with guarapo ( freshly pressed sugar- cane juice ) and a dash of rum, followed by savory slow roasted organic pork served with a cabbage, tomato and cucumber salad and mashed Yuca root.
Today, a hike up 136 steps to the top of the Torre Iznaga for CUC$ 1 is rewarded with a panoramic view of Trinidad and the valley. But at the end of the 18th century, Pedro Iznaga, who made his wealth in the slave trade, climbed it daily to keep an eye on his slaves, dashing their hopes of escape.
Founded by emigrants from the Canary Islands more than 500 years ago, Trinidad became home to the mansions of the landowners who made t heir fortunes in sugar and slave trade in the 1700s and early 1800s. A visit to the Brunet Palace, built in 1812 by José Mariano Borrell y Padrón, and inherited by his daughter and her husband Count Nicolás de la Cruz Brunet y Muñoz, offers a window on their way of life.
By design, high ceilings and tall shuttered windows allow cross breezes to flow between the street and the courtyard, a welcome respite from the sun. The original marble floors and frescoes, and neo- classical furnishings, stand as testament to their wealth. Two mahogany chairs in the landowner’s office, fitted with coffee cup trays and a wide headrest for dozing off, elicit a chuckle. A tight climb up a spiral staircase from the second floor to the rooftop patio affords a magnificent view of Trinidad with its trademark bell tower of the Church and Monastery of St. Francis.
In a nod to the revolution, Bar La Canchanchara, housed in a charmingly restored 18th century home and courtyard just off the square, serves a delicious concoction of rum, mountain wildflower honey and lemon juice served in terracotta cups. The drink by the same name as the bar is said to originated at the time of the Independence Wars against Spain in the early 19th century as a way for the Island Liberation Army soldiers to stave off their cold and hunger.
VILLA CLARA
Just 12 hours after the capture of Santa Clara – nicknamed the City of Che – Batista fled Cuba and Castro’s forces claimed victory. Pass- ing under a banner declaring “Yo soy Fidel” (I am Fidel) on the main boulevard, I see a young backpacker sporting a Che beret and T-shirt heading in the same direction we are to the museum of the derailed armoured military train, northeast of the city. A few boxcars and the tractor used to derail them remains at the railway crossing here.
To the west of downtown on Campo de Tiro sits the imposing monument dedicated to Che Guevara and 29 of his fellow combatants killed in 1967 during the Bolivia campaign. By comparison, the small mausoleum hous- ing their ashes is quiet and unremarkable. A museum across from the mausoleum displays interesting and revealing artifacts and photos of Guevara and Castro.
From Parque Vidal, in the old town, the bright mintgreen façade of the Santa Clara Libre Hotel, bearing the scars of bullets, stands out; kitty corner stands the imposing provincial library, once the palace of Marta Abreu de Estévez, “Benefactress of the City,” and a temporary resting place for Guevara’s remains.
Having had my fill of stories of Spanish rule and the revolution, I retire to the adults- only Grand Villa at Iberostar Ensenachos, on Cayo Ensenachos. After bobbing about in the Atlantic, I lounge in the sun, watching the bartender plod barefoot across the sand with my lime daiquiri, while reflecting on the dichotomy of Cuba – beautiful beaches like this gem, linked to the mainland by 48 kilometres of road and bridge, and aging colonial cities.
‘TWO MAHOGANY CHAIRS IN THE LANDOWNER’S OFFICE, FITTED WITH COFFEE CUP TRAYS AND A WIDE HEADREST FOR DOZING OFF, ELICIT A CHUCKLE.’