Remedios

"Countries are not defined by their government, economic standing, geographical location or religion.  A country is defined by it's people, both as hosts and visitors." 

Remedios is a small town outside of Santa Clara in the province of Villa Clara and about 3.5 hour drive from Cardenas (we passed through Colon on the way, nice place.). Remedios, in the heart of the city, is more modern than Cardenas, but much more rural on the outskirts.  We stayed in an old colonial house.  40 ft ceiling in the main room, 20 ft windows with wooden shutters and creepy family pictures everywhere.  Including one the daughter holding baby Jesus in her arms with old Jesus looking on in the background.  How is that even possible?   All kidding aside, this place was amazing.  Frank our host, and his family were very helpful.  Especially when he came home drunk with his wife after passing his driving test.  It was nice to see.

Remedios took us on a great journey.  We started out in meeting a bike mechanic who had been working on bikes before the revolution, met a guy who made his own tires and tubes, and were led to the town of Placetas looking for the underground parts manufacturer they call the Tomato.  I think the term used was "we are in the shit." From there a happy drunk mechanic and grouchy old one.  Good times indeed. 

During our time here people could not understand why we were not going to the beach. The Keys were not 20 min away.  Even after we explained our whole trip they still thought we would have some beach time.  Due to the close proximity to the Keys there was a small tourist side to the town.  Unlike Cardenas there were a couple of beggars and people looking to sell cigars, rum and yes, the occasional offer of women.  We did buy some home made cigars from a barber (it was Franks Birthday).  We were led to the back room of the barber shop and shown a clearly authentic collection of the finest homemade tobacco wrapped in newspaper.  We bought the Tasters Choice Pack.  Now this barber was good.  We bought from him at the end of day one.  For the next two days he would just appear out of nowhere, and ask if we wanted another "haircut."  For the life of me I couldn't figure out where he came from or how he found us, let alone how he thought we had finished the 20 cigars we had bought 12 hours ago.  Even on the car ride out of town, there he was on the road making one last pitch. Granted if he could have cut my hair while running alongside of the car, I would have bought more cigars.

On the evening of the first night (does sound like a bad translation of Shakespeare?), first day, yes that sounds better, on the evening of the first day, we had passed a few old men playing chess.  The vibe seemed cold and uninviting. We pressed on.  However we stopped in on the second night, and so began another great human experience.....

Here we met Juan Torres, a chess instructor, and this place, a chess school.  On the wall, a giant portrait of Capablanca, the world chess champion from the early 1920s, a national hero.  Old wooden tables are spread out through the room, chess pieces placed neatly on each.  Two old men are finishing a game.  Juan shows us his book of visitors.  Denmark, UK, Australia, Spain, Canada and more.  All have left photos or sent them, they have all kept in touch.  As Juan speaks, his English is quite good, he is excited, stutters a little, but yet very articulate.  He explains the school, how chess is not taught in school, but kids can come here and learn.  He is proud of all the people he has met.  He believes in people getting to know locals, the culture, and experiencing the countries they visit.  He is truly interesting and loves to talk, and listen.  It feels as though he has travelled all over, though he has never left, he gathers all he can from those who cross his path.  So I do what any fun loving man who hasn't played chess in 3 years (and the last time I played was at 2am at a party) would do.  I ask him to play a game.

Now, we played for an hour, I did pretty good, when he thought he had me he would stand, make jokes, talk to his friends, however when I made a move he did not expect and changed the table, he would sit and make thinking noises (I have no idea how else to explain these sounds, I know you get it), as would his friends as they looked over his shoulder.  It was very entertaining.  I lasted an hour, but he beat me. I will not remember the result (I would if I won) over time, it will be the interaction with this kind, old soul.  Truly a great experience.  I have to finish this off with this next bit.  The following day, Anibal and I peaked into the library and noticed Juan sitting at a table, writing.  He greats us with a big smile.  He explains he is writing his friends in Australia, but they do not speak any Spanish, and his English is not that good.  It is then I notice the book he has by his letter.  A Spanish English dictionary.  Not only is he taking the time to write someone, but he is translating his letter to English so they can understand it.

Technology has taken us so far away from true Human interaction.

Next stop Havana.