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Cayo Coco, located in the Jardines del Rey (Gardens of the King) archipelago, was my first glimpse of a virgin beach in Cuba – all white sand and crystal clear waters… and here I’ll refrain from describing it any further because you know I’m going to say “Oh the water was so clear I could see right through it,” and I have no wish to sound like a broken record.

The key is separated from the mainland of Cuba by the Bahía de Perros (Bay of Dogs) linked only by a stone road causeway, and it hadn’t been the easiest to get to. My travel buddy E and I had been in Trinidad, and we’d had to take the morning’s Viazul bus to Ciego de Avila, from where we then hired a state taxi to Cayo Coco (about 50-60 CUC) because there was no other way to get there. Private (and therefore illegal – we’re in Cuba!) taxis may charge you cheaper fares but are likely to be hauled up at the security checkpoint at the entrance to the bridge which paves the road to the key, unless of course they know the checkpoint officer pretty well and already have some sort of ‘arrangement’ brokered. And no, you won’t get into any trouble if you and your taxi driver are caught red-handed in ‘anti-revolutionary’ activities – it’s your taxi driver who will pay (as punishment – a fine, or state confiscation of his car), but the dreary consequence for you is that you are likely to get stuck with no way of getting back to Point A or going on further to Point B because you won’t find another taxi hovering around the place – they’re rather sparse once you get out of the mainland provinces. Anyway at the checkpoint Cuban state security will ask your driver to prove that he is licensed to transport tourists, and you will be asked to show your passport at the checkpoint… and if all goes well, you pay a toll fee (2 or 3 CUC) and you’re on your way. The security checkpoint also marks out unauthorised Cubans who are not allowed into the key – only Cubans employed by the state (the only kind of legal employment there is) in Cayo Coco can enter, or those upon whom the Fidelista government has bestowed ‘benefits’ for being a good communist. There’s still something of the ‘apartheid’ going on in Cuba, but more about that another day.

So, we breezed through security. Then we were driving across the bridge, and it surprised me to realise that there were no barriers to either side, just an open road leading all the way to the key. So really, if you find yourself there one day and there still aren’t any barriers, pray that you don’t have a crazy driver at the wheel because he could drive you all the way into the water, as beautifully turquoise as it is.

We gave the driver our intended address in Cayo Coco – apparently only one out of two accommodations catering to budget travellers: Sitio La Güira, it was called (Carretera a Cayo Guillermo, Cayo Coco, Jardines del Rey; tel. 033/30-1208), which Christopher Baker in his Moon handbook purported to have “very rustic huts” and private baths plus thatched restaurant. I wondered at his choice in adding ‘very’ before ‘rustic huts’ – because you know, usually when I employ the word ‘rustic’ or when someone describes something to me as ‘rustic’, I think of Balinese luxury, whereas ‘very rustic’ seems to be tipping it the other way – but as E always liked to say, “Beggars can’t be choosers,” and anyway I had already accustomed myself to substandard (well, $USD 2-3) accommodation in Guatemala before that so I was sure I was prepared for anything.

Well, when we finally arrived, I thought it looked quite promising, if you discount the strange animal rock formations planted all over La Güira’s grounds – from pigs, to cows or some I couldn’t made out (watch this video – not mine). I think it was trying to emulate a campesino village, and its efforts made me feel like I was in a kid’s playground – meaning it wasn’t entirely convincing, but quaint, endearing in a way.

We went up up to the reception lady and asked for a double room with private bathroom and air-conditioning (the latter is almost a must for most of us I think, otherwise you wake up drenched in your own sweat), which cost us 20 CUC collectively. Then we collected out keys and went to our hut.

The first thing we saw were two stuffed swans (folded with white towels) on the bed with their necks entwined, and we laughed but by now it had ceased to become a surprise. E was strictly my travel buddy, but Cuba’s accommodations don’t often do single beds, so for the sake of convenience and better bargains we mostly made do with a double bed. Other casas particulares (private residences not run by the state, though the residents need a state license to rent out their rooms, two max) we’d stayed at had had some very matrimonial-looking beds, all decked out in gold or red and lacy pillows in that somewhat aged fashion, like perhaps the kind your grandmother might have used to cover her bed just after she married your grandfather, back in the day. But the bed was comfortable, the sheets were clean, the air-conditioning was working.

And then we saw this:

The picture doesn’t show how bad it was but the sink was entirely broken. The entire pipe seemed to have been yanked out, and I don’t have a picture of the shower-head and the toilet bowl flush but they were both completely broken in the same way. So we went to reception immediately and asked for a change of rooms, but for what reason I can’t remember now it had been impossible, and instead we were advised to go and enjoy ourselves on the beach and that by the time we get back it would be fixed. A bit dubious but at their insistence, mollified, we left on our mighty scooter, which we had rented from Oasis Hotel.

Actually it was a bit of trouble getting hold of a scooter. We were in Cuba in July and hiring a car or a scooter then is quite difficult, and hiring a bike is near to impossible (in fact, hotels in Cayo Coco didn’t even hire bikes out to non-residents, I guess because of scarcity?) We hadn’t made any bookings in advance, and we didn’t know which hotel would have an available scooter, and they were too far apart from one another to walk from one to another trying our luck. So the idea was that before heading to Sitio La Güira we would ask our driver to take us from hotel to hotel to hire a scooter, then one of us would scoot back to Sitio La Güira while the other travels in the car with the luggage. Luckily we struck the jackpot instantly with Oasis Hotel, which is supposed to be one of the mid-range family hotels.

Since E had forgotten to bring his driver’s license with him to Cuba, I was the designated motorist, and spent the first half-hour making a few trial rounds in Oasis Hotel’s entrance car park to see if it was even a feasible idea for us to rent a scooter. Neither of us had ever handled one before, and although I bike quite dexterously the scooter is much much heavier and I couldn’t handle corners on it very well.

But, what to do? There were no cars available, and anyway they were too expensive. So even though I wasn’t confident on the scooter yet I knew I’d have to deal with it eventually. So we paid the amount it cost to hire the scooter for a day (I don’t remember how much) and sped – well, ambled – off. Hats off to E for trusting me at the front, although later I let him have a go even though he wasn’t licensed to and of course he handled it better than I did.

E waiting with chesty pride while the scooter gets pumped

Err... and we broke a light

Then for the rest of the day we visited Playa Flamingo, a more remote and more ‘local’ beach, before going on to buy an all-inclusive day pass at the Hotel Tryp, which gave us unlimited access to its services. Then, and I don’t remember how, later in the evening we also managed to get free (or at least, very cheap) wristbands for Hotel Sol, which allowed us to enjoy a very nice buffet dinner there. If I remember correctly, it was an evening pass, cheaper than the all-day one.

Playa Flamingo

E taking a nap in the sea

By the time we left Hotel Sol it was close to midnight, and… guess what? Our scooter wouldn’t start. We spent a good hour or trying to get help from the hotel staff, and luckily when help finally came he brought our scooter back to life. Nothing miraculous apparently, we just had to tweak something (that apparently all motorists are supposed to know) and the engine revved. I guess there is some kind of locking mechanism? Well, my excuse is that we were rookie motorists and just winging it.

When we got onto the road again we realised how dark it was, because there were no street lamps at all for a very long stretch, just the moonlight paving our way. We could see literally nothing except the road in front of us and the thick trees by the side of the road. We hadn’t anticipated that at all (bring a torch next time!), and half-expected animals to pop out of the bushes and derail us. We thought if someone tried to rob us or kill us then that there’d be no one around for miles to hear or help us, but fortunately, Cuba is actually surprisingly safe – much more so than a lot of the Latin American countries I’d been to.

Then we reached La Güira, and I was looking forward to a good soap scrub. My skin was pasted over by a mixture of dust and sea-salt water and sweat and god was I looking forward to a sensational shower!

But then things started to go wrong.

Once we stopped the engine, we started to feel sharp stings all over the exposed parts of our bodies. Several of them, all at once. Mosquitoes! Although they hide well away during the day, they come out with a vengeance during the night, and this was after an entire year in Central America of having had to put up with all kinds of tropical insects and suffering scars that I still have on my calves and my knees and my feet. We ran quickly to our hut but we took some time because the bamboo door had been cut unevenly and needed some force to push it open and shut. Then we turned on the air-conditioning and I ran to the bathroom and…

Still: broken sink. Broken shower. Broken toilet.

E was more collected than I was, and went to reception to find out why our toilet hadn’t yet been fixed like it was promised while I slapped myself silly at the mosquitoes I imagined to be taking bites of me. But the guy on the night shift was a mild character who didn’t know anything about what had transpired earlier this afternoon, and it seemed unfair to take it out on him.

In the end, he gave us a small jug and two pails of water from which to scoop from, one for me and one for E. In the end, E managed to wash his entire self with that puny pail, and I only managed my face.

This is what we made do with

But here’s what took the cake:

The next morning when we checked out we complained to the reception (a different lady from the one yesterday) about what had transpired and asked for a refund, or at least, a 50% discount. There was even a consumer rights plaque staring us in the face at the desk. When she adamantly refused, I pointed at it and she said, “Well, yes there are the details – the number, email address, whatever – and you can go and make a complaint. But for now, you pay. You have the right to complain all you want, but not to me. A special organization deals with that. It’s got nothing to do with me.” I argued some more, and she said, “Nope, sorry, you’re entered in the system as having stayed here and I’ve got to have that money to account for. Otherwise I have to pay it out of my own pocket and I can’t do that.” And I argued some more. In the end, she said, “Look I can give you a 5 CUC discount, and enter you in the system as having stayed in another room which costs 15 CUC, but I can’t do any better than that.” As a last resort I asked, “Who is in charge around here? I’d like to speak to him/her.”

And this is the best part of the story, this is the part that until today, a year down the road, still makes me laugh:

She sniggered at me and said, “You want the jefe, girl? Well, Fidel’s not here. Why don’t you go find him and tell him your complaints, eh?”