Getting Around in Cuba

Here begins a series of picture-posts of Cuba, since a lot of pics couldn’t load on the slow Cuban internet, part of a longer series of retrospective posts on Cuba. Maybe I will complain about America some more in the middle of this series, we’ll see. 

Coco taxis - mostly tourist fare; once we bargained with a really spunky coco taxi driver who asked us if we had caramelos

fancy máquina

shitty máquina

campesino in horsecart

a moving guagua in havana, they are normally this full or more

FREEDOM BUS, sent from some church or other type of do-gooders in the US

electric train - the 'hershey train' - from havana to matanzas; most likely 50+ years old

empty pilot's cockpit of train

inside of the train; as you can see, seats were super comfy

normal vehicles in santiago

tourist cars waiting outside capitolio - on the sides are painted the words 'rentar una fantasia'

plane santiago-havana

open back camioneta, hitchhiking

floor of the camioneta, covered in frutabomba

horse- taxi, one peso per person

cienfuegos, cleanest most put together city in cuba, the 'pearl' they call it

Getting Places

beach

Of course, my experience in Peru would not be complete without diarrhea. But no more needs to be said of this.

Today was my first day of work, a short day in hours, but not lacking in memorable events. This morning, I headed out with my mamá peruana Alicia to the street to get a micro, which is a type of public transportation–medium sized buses brightly decorated with stripes of color and names of major streets or districts they go. Of course, like maps of Lima, the route of a micro cannot be found anywhere but inside a limeño’s head. This can be a little frustrating for the extranjero, but it seems to be an integral part of Limeñan culture; things are disorganized, a little hectic, and very cozy–but people are helpful and kind. Anyways, I was glad to have Alicia with me, even though I felt like I could get a micro myself. The day before, her 28 year-old son Ricardo had told me that there was a purple micro that went directly to the Hospital de Niños, where I was going to work, and I had this brilliant idea that I would just hop out on the street, flag down the purple one, ask them if they went to Hospital de Niños, and hop on. It was going to be a piece of cake and I was going to be super-independent and able. Anyways, Alicia and I waited for about 10 minutes at the stop and no purple bus passed, luckily her neighbor came out and we asked her if she knew the route, and the neighbor said that she had never seen a purple bus pass by here, that it didn’t go by this street but another one, that the only one that passed by here was a “chiquitito,” a combi–large van like transport–with blue stripes. Right then, a blue striped combi drove by, and we waved our arms, but it didn’t stop, because it was filled to the brim. We went to another street to catch the purple bus, and finally, after being told that it was red and white, then green, then purple again, then hopping onto and off a red and brown one that only went near the hospital but not directly to it, I got on the purple bus, standing and packed literally like sardines.