Biking on Cuba part 2 - Oriente: 2. Guardalavaca

When we stop one or several people immediately shows up and ask if we need help. It takes a while before we realize, this is not South Africa where people either want money, or rob you. In Cuba they just want to help out, for the joy of helping. A Cuban family has on average nine visitors per day. Hanging out together, helping each other. I am asking myself what kind of society we in the western world have created. A super nice couple on one (she on the frame) crappy bicycle shows us the way to our casa in Banes. The bike ride to get here is super beautiful and very hilly. But short. Which suits us well, still tired after our marathon journey from Canmore. So we have a lot of time to do just like the locals. Hang out. We install ourselves in a nice and tidy room and the bikes in the back yard. They will be taken inside for the night. Even if this is a super safe country, good bikes are very attractive. Banes is a sleepy little town. People who lives here rarely see tourists.
"Hi, where are you from?"
Now they learn English in school, it used to be Russian.
"Canada."
"You like oysters?"
Roland points at me. "Yes, she does."
So, I am dragged into a little shack where a man stands behind a counter made of old planks. He grabs a glass that maybe was clean twenty customers ago. Then he grabbs a glass jar. In the bottom of the jar there is grey slime. He takes one of his hands that might have had an encounter with a soap once, when he was a kid. He grabs some of the grey slime and put it into the glass. Then he pours dark rum over it and stir. The poor oysters have been taken out of their shells and put into a jar. Transformed from something that usually makes my mouth watering, into something that makes my stomach turn. I have backed off into a corner, shouting "no, no, no!". Holding my stomach. "You see, just arrived from Canada, have to be a little cautious with what I eat. Sorry. Really sorry." I'm lying, I am not sorry at all. Just terrified. I watch the guy who brought me here drink the murky slime. As a shot. I don't want to see the rest so I run out through the door.

It's lunchtime and we walk into Pizzeria Venice. White linen table cloths, wine glasses, wall paintings of Venice. We sit down and are given a very fancy menu each. It consists of maybe twenty pages. Eighteen of them are empty. On the two pages in the middle they have; Pizza, con queso or con jamón. Espaguetti (spagetti), con queso or con jamón. We order one of each pizza. "Cerveza?" No, fridge does not work. "Agua mineral?" No. "Vino?" No. We eat and pay the bill that is 12 CUP. So, we are in a state owned restaurant with prices in Cuban Pesos. 12 CUP is equal to 0,5 CUC which is the Convertible tourist money (1CUC=1US$). This is very interesting. If you want you can survive in Cuba for almost nothing. But you have to bring your own tent. If you want to stay in a B&B (casa particular) or hotel, the prices are in CUC. Typically for casa particular 25 CUC for a room, 7-10 CUC for dinner, 3-5 CUC for breakfast. Eating at the casas, home made, often home grown and organic food is a so much better option than trying to find a decent restaurant. Exception in Havanna and some other cities with tourists.