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The pattern is set and by 8am we lug our bags back onto the coach.Our cycle ride again sets off from the hotel, right at the T junction with the Indian statue and along the coastal road, where glittering waters sparkle in the sunlight, tantilisingly inviting us, cool and refreshing.We studiously ignore the temptation and cycle through small villages until we regroup at the first of 3 bridges (around the 15 km point), that skirt the coastline along the way to Trinidad.
We continue along the coastal road, the heat steadily rising and we have a second stop at the 3rd bridge (25 km point). Santos (our coach driver) and Alberto (the cyclist/bike mechanic) double up duties and prepare fresh pineapple and papaya, hand out peanut brittle (probably invented by a dentist to ensure a steady stream of business).A couple of young local girls, sitting on the curbside, watch us with bemusement.They don't hassle us for gifts, which ensures that several of us are motivated to donate treats of sweets, colouring books and pens.The parents are grateful for the empty 5L water bottles, which Santos hands over to them, having filled the group's water bottles (it's easy to guzzle a litre of water in just 10 km of cycling here and you never even need to go to the loo!).
I have a sudden hankering for the open road and for once set off at the front of the group.By now we have an established cohort of young/fit cyclists who cruise along effortlessly and are usually at the front of the group, the other half (of which Jon and I am part) take a more leisurely pace which still averages a respectable 20 km/hr.My plan was to have a minute or two with open road ahead and then let the speedy guys come past.For once though, Alberto was to lead the group, so suddenly I feel the hand arrive in the middle of my back, Alberto gear kicks in, and even into the headwind we are zipping along at around 30km/hr.I peddle furiously, to maintain the pace (I don't know how the others manage this rate routinely).For the next 10 km or so, Alberto and I cruise along side by side, enjoying the open road ahead, the views of the Carribean sea to the right and above all, paying close attention to any looming potholes waiting to swallow the front wheel of the bike and pitch us sideways.We stop again just before Trinidad, with only around 6 km to go.The final part we have to do together as a group and in single file, as we make our way through the maze of streets that lead to the heart of the old town of Trinidad.Cycle taxis are almost as common as cars and horse and carts; the combination of old cars and ancient transports add to the sense of stepping back in time.Only the techno music blaring from a cycle taxi in front of us adds a jarring note.Even so, the elation of a good ride and our destination in sight means that we each dance in our saddle as we pass the boom-box cyclist.Arriving at the steps of an old church, the final 50m is along bumpy cobbles, a foretaste of the streets at the heart of this town.It's taken just over 2 hours of cycling to cover the 43 km to reach Trinidad; we're hot, sweaty and happy.
A quick wash with wet wipes on the bus, a burst of deodorant and a change of tops, etc and we're all looking a little more human.José our guide leads us on a tour around the old streets of Trinidad.The cobbles are even more treacherous than the potholes earlier and constant vigilance is required.Old houses with high central doors and barred windows line the streets.Almost all have their doors open, their lounge converted into a small shop selling paintings, replica Cuba number plates, maracas and other assorted tourist trinkets.We reach the main square (Plaza Mejor), which has grand ceramic pots on the walls and pillars, elegant lights and wrought iron benches (which fry the bottom of weary tourists who ill-advisedly choose to sit on them).After a pretty standard tour group-packed restaurant buffet lunch, we say farewell to our trusty Alberto.Heading back to the cobbled streets, we attempt to remain in the shade, as the blazing sunshine threatens to cook your brains.A small museum, which is the former house of a Doctor, shows us how the pre-revolution, other-half, lived.We enter a large main hall/reception room, with high ceilings (at least 6m), cool tiled floors and decorated with gilt-edged, giant sized mirrors, French Limoge pottery vases, Louis XV furniture; all demonstrate that there was once wealth here.Beyond this main room are smaller side rooms and a courtyard behind, with more rooms surrounding the shady space.The high point (literally) of this visit is the rather dizzying ascent up 2 normal steep flights of stairs, then 2 more sets of wooden stairs - the first a tight spiral and the final one a short set of steep ladder steps take you to the top of the tower and reward you with breath-taking views of Trinidad, the Carribean Sea and the Escambray mountains behind us.One of the many things I like about Cuba is the pragmatic and economical approach to life - one small example of this is the need to limit the maximum number of people up the tower to 20.A lady waits at the bottom of the staircase with 20 small pieces of cloth the size of a raffle ticket.When you go up the stairs you take one and when you descend you hand it back to her, ready for the next person to go up.Simple, effective and no waste....
After a final stop at a cafe specialising in the local concoction of honey, lemon, ice, water and firewater - actually quite delicious and would be a perfect cure for a cold or sore throat - we head out the final few km from Trinidad to our unexpectedly all-inclusive hotel for the next 2 nights.Each of our group has a green hospital-style wrist bracelet snapped into place, where it will remain in place for the next 2 days; our passport to free snacks, drinks and sun loungers, we guard them preciously.
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