Walking Cuba: El Camino del Cimarron

Day 7: Guaracabulla to Matagua

There is very little light in the casa de la cultura of Guaracabulla. The only light bulb worthy of the name shines in the main room, near the front door. The bathroom, next to the room with the mattress where I slept, is dark as a cave.

Peeing in the toilet during the night was a challenge, not that a few stray drops would be noticeable. Flushing meant pulling water out of a large tank into the toilette with a bucket until the new water replaced the old.

Showering was throwing water from the same tank over my waking body with a small cup. It was, as they say, all good. I dry in the darkness with my small towel, dress and I am ready to roll by six.

The promotora had brought me a thermos full of coffee the night before. Drinking the coffee like this now — as I awake before the sun, in a small town in the center of Cuba…coffee prepared specially to send me on my way through the Cuban countryside — makes it taste like ambrosia. I pull my pack to the front porch, breathing in the cool morning air.