pictures here
Trinidad’s stone roads in the higher part of the city and the valley surroundings set itself apart from the other cities in Cuba. Unlike the bigger cities, there are less “food windows” where Cubanos sell sandwiches and drinks from their home. Most stores close pretty early around six o’clock at night and the night life is limited to Casa de la Music, every city has one of these and also Casa de la Trova. In Trinidad, I got the small town feeling, typical of small cities in the US. People seem genuinely friend, except in tourists-heavy areas. I spent the day walking around the city and eventually ended up at Casa de la Trova. Musicians gather there to jam during the day and practice for night performances. I started talking to Jose, an older Cubano who turned out to be the director of one of the bands there and decided to take a conga lesson from him. I had taken one group conga lesson while in Florida and liked it very much since it helped me better understand salsa music. With over forty years of experiences playing all types of percussion instruments, Jose and I went through the basic conga patters in Salsa, Cha-Cha, Bolero, Merengue and Cumbia. 
With my limited vocabulary and dictionary, I managed to explain to him what I wanted to ask. Better yet, he wrote down the patterns in musical notation, which of course is universal. I hadn’t read sheet music in probably 10 years, but the symbols looked familiar enough. Our hour went by pretty quickly.
Afterwards, Jose and I went to a private restaurant which has no signs outside. You had to know the people there since government prohibit this type of private establishments. Still, pockets of Capitalism like this flourish in a Socialist country. Keynesian economics at work here; demand creates supply I guess. Or is it the other way around? For $10 CUC, I had two grilled lobsters, definitely a treat after eating street food like pizza or bread with ham everyday. 
This is the difference between CUC and Cubano peso. You can only buy ham sandwiches with Moneda Nacional, Cubano pesos, but if you want nicer things like lobster, you pay with CUC. We talked about the music, played the beats on the table and as usual, conversation shifted towards the economy and life in Cuba. I discovered that for only $700 CUC, a foreigner can buy a decent house in Trinidad. In fact he said many Europeans have houses there. I didn’t quite understand whether or not there is a legitimate paper that says the foreigner is the owner of the house, but my guess is that there is no such a legal document. If you want a get-away place in Trinidad, Cuba, you have a friend in Jose.
Next day, I went on another water fall excursion with Cuban Tour. A Russian truck took us through the rolling hills of the Valley of Ingenio and into the mountains of Parque Caburni. The guide said the truck was about 30 years old; on many occasions hearing the laboring sounds from the truck, I wondered if we would make it up. At other times, I ate at the gigantic mango I bought the day earlier from a farmer for 5 cubano peso ($0.20 USD). I don’t think there are genetically engineered mangos in Cuba, but the mango I had was huge and delicious. We stopped for coffee and a quick tour of some coffee making facilities and then were onward to the beginning of the trail. A mixed group of Australians, French, English and I set forth on the 3 mile hike. Strangely, the entire way to the pool and the waterfall was mostly downhill, meanwhile I was thinking about the uphill climb on the way back. I took many deep breathe there to fully enjoy the clean air of the forests. It’s amazing how rare it is to get fresh air in our modern civilization. 
The water fall of Caburni is larger than the ones in El Nicho, but the water seemed greener and murkier. I tried swimming against the current to get to where the water entered the pool, but the current was too strong. Finally tired, I was content to just float with my face barely above water. The sun felt nice, warming up my face, but the clouds covered up on and off. Miles away from civilization, I wanted to stay there. Again I was the last to get out of the water. After visiting El Nicho and Caburni, I realized that waterfalls and pools in the forest are my favorite places to be, more than the most beautiful beaches I have seen thus far or tops of mountains. That night, I continued my conga lessons with Jose and ate an enormous lobster, which was bigger than the two from the night earlier combined. More conversations ensued during the dinner. I have met a few Cubanos here whom I have felt good connections with, like Carlos, the university student in Havana who had Michael Jackson’s haircut and danced like Michael, or Abel, the young book seller I met in China town, who had his own cell phone and computer, or Henry, the wood sculptor from Cienfuego. Maestro Jose is another such Cubano. Later on, I met up with the other tourists from the hike for drinks and dancing. After talking to the Australians, I changed my road plan, skipping Santa Clara and instead make my pit stop in Camaguey, the third biggest city in Cuba after Havana and Santiago.
Camaguey situated in the middle part of the island is one large flat land. With no ocean in sight, lobsters were out of the questions; I was back to eating pizza and bread with ham. I was really starting to miss vegetables like spinach and asparagus, and the potato chips isle. In each of the city, there are many panaderia, stores that sell bread, dulceria, stores that sell sweets and coppelia, ice cream shops. I found myself stopping in dulcerias more and more often; I don’t think I have a sweet tooth but when dulcerias are around every corner, it’s very tempting. While walking around the city, I kept thinking what it would be like to really live here rather than just passing through as a tourist. I was convinced that if I was a Cubano, I would build a boat and get out. Even though the state offers many services, at the end of the day, one doesn’t have freedom here and the only opportunity to make a better living is by scraping off tourists. The longer I stayed in Cuba, the more I appreciated the system in the US. I suppose if I didn’t know what life is like outside of Cuba, I wouldn’t want it as much. Eating beef is prohibited in Cuba because Fidel says so. I probably wouldn’t crave beef if I had never had it before. If I never knew what opportunities and democracy are, I would be more content to just eating pizza and ham everyday. But I know better. Spinach tastes ten times better than ham. That is a fact.
Camaguey like other Cuban cities has many plazas, but here each plaza has a church to go along with it. The main church, I forgot the name, dates back to the 1740′s. Amazingly, the painting hanging on the walls are still in good conditions although the ones on the ceiling have faded. The tour of the catacombs under the church was eerie; I wanted to get out of there but each door we went though got smaller and smaller. Typical of American church, there is either a large cross above the podium or maybe a statue of Jesus Christ. Here in Cuba, the church I visited had a status of Virgin Mary, which is more important to the Cubans in their religion. If my Spanish was better, I could probably have learned more about why Virgin Mary is important but during the tour, I nodded more than I understood. I wondered how the Cubans decide which church to go to since there are so many.
That night I went to see a Ballet performance at the Teotro Principal. The dancers were simply incredible; they spun and gracefully moved to classical music. They each have been dancing for around 15 years and it showed. Sitting behind a large group of Cuban adolescents in green military uniform, I felt like I was in a James Bond movie in the former USSR. For some reason, I associate ballet with Russia and their military with 007. As the lights dimmed, I shifted my focus to the main dancer on stage, a black Cubano standing probably over 6 feet tall. His stoic and yet hopeful expression matched the music. He easily did four turns flawlessly in place on his tippy toe. Having focused on mostly Latin dances such as Salsa, Merengue, Bachata and Tango, I found ballet very refreshing as a different form of art. As I left Teatro Principal, a cold gust of air swept through. The adolescents in green uniforms puffed away on their cigarettes under the orange and yellowish cover of the street lamps. 
In my head, the 007 theme song played on. I quickened my pace and checked the shadows behind me. Ballet in Cuba? Incredible. There is still so much more to discover. But tonight, I save the world.