It's very early to have a certain view on the trip in retrospect, I'm still bewildered from being back, but it's a trip that has changed my life, and my view upon life, but then, all great changes in your life do exactly that.
Certain people on the trip have made a bigger impact than others, of the most important I can mention: Mike Gasson, Jimmy, Dave, Sarah, Carl, Miguel, Anne Dorte, Stephen, James, Johno, Karin, Flavio, Julian, Magte, Tono, Antonio, Heather, Lisa, Moni, Bob and the star of the show... Gilbert.

I have also had a lot of help from the homefront: Hanne (mother), Jesper (father), Anne Sophie (sister), Bo (stepfather) and Anette (friend). Especially without the help of these individuals, the trip never would have been or it would have failed while I was underway.

With a disregard to all that I have just written, I would like to extend a thank you, to everyone on this list:

Family, friends and everyone who has been reading the blog!

Uruguay: Those 5 Danes

Colonia Del Sacramento: The Brit and the Aussie

Puerto Madryn: Sarah and Kyle

Rio Gallegos: Timo, Jonah and Fred

Ushuaia: Andreas, Uri, Layden and the 4 Israeli girls

Punta Arenas: Carl, Tamar, Adina, Keenan, Irish couple, Jack, Roman, Mike and the two Aussie's in their 50's.

Puerto Natales: Bill, Kat, Bo, the guy from Punta Arenas, Monty (the cat), Britney, Jenny, German girl, Vicky and Sophia

Torres Del Paine: Urs, John, John, Susan, Katy, Rafael, Natasha, Albert, Nick, Whitney and the two Irish guys.

Calafate: Edward

Chalten: Mike

Futaleufú: Eyal, Rachel, Dave and Eddie

El Bolsón: Lucia

Bariloche: Patrick, Reut, the Israeli twins and Jimmy

Bariloche -> Valdivia: Lindsay

Pucón: Everyone at hostel Etnico, everyone who went up the volcano with me (in particular Yong)

Santiago: The staff at La Chimba hostel and Mike (of El Chalten fame)

Rapa Nui (Easter Island): Miguel, Chen, Kieran, Melissa, Larry, Jimmy (From Bariloche),John, Emma, Brian, John (Montana), Alejandra

Buenos Aires: Eddie (of Futaleufú fame), Anne Dorte, Jon, Karen, Elena, Jane, Becky, Eric, Madoka, James, Steve, Stefan, Darren, Deborah, Chris

Puerto Iguazu: Two German girls, Canadian girl and the two Danish girls

Ciudad Del Este: Dan and Rommi

Santa Cruz -> La Paz: Lorgio

La Paz: Patrick (from Bariloche) and Danny

La Paz -> Cuzco: Florian

Cuzco: Steve and James (from Buenos Aires), Karin, Anna, Heather, Ley, the 3 Norwegian girls, Ingrid, Johno, Maria, Charlotte, Mike Gasson (from El Chalten and Santiago) and the Kiwi girl.

Inca Trail: Flavio, Julian, the porters and the cook, Rob and Dee Ann

La Paz: Nadja, Yasmin, Heather, Uval, Maud, Jonathan, Ivan and Macro

Potosi: Cameron, Monica, Allan, William, Anaïs, Angela and Aaron

Uyuni: Angela (from Potosi), Declan and Judy

Sucre: Andrew, Tamsyn and Trevor

La Paz: Jimmy

Pampas: Jimmuy, Laia and Tono

Jungle: Jimmy, Antonio and Jesus

La Paz: Jimmy, Heather, Roly and Anita

Copacabana: Jimmy

Habana: Lisa, Amasa and Lily

Santiago de Cuba: Lisa (from above)

Comandancia La Plata: Moni

VIlla Santa Domingo -> Camaguey: Shane and Steve

Cuba: All the family's I stayed with, ate with and talked with; you showed me the best side of Cuba.

Washington, D.C.: Hiro, Carlos, Rachel & Eyal (from Futaleufu and Bariloche), Bill Colburn, Jackie, Rick and Rav Shmuel.

New York: Tony, Anne Sophie (my sister), Peter & and his son Tony as well as

Chicago: Bob, Amanda and the people on the Wicker park tour

Boston: Amelia

I'm just gonna leave you with a feeling of my trip, I know with this massive list of people above, it doesn't feel right, and I'm not saying it gives a sense of my entire trip, but you will also notice that few people are mentioned more than once (it won't work if you are reading this in an email, you have to go to the website):

[See post to listen to audio]

So before I leave you... Beyond the sky and the earth, thank you.

I arrived at the international airport of Habana around 1:30 in the morning, and was asked to pay 50 CUC instead of 40, as the airport is 25 km outside the city, I didn't like this new concept, and refused to pay anymore than 45 CUC. Inside the airport the security is incredibly tight, and I felt good about going to sleep lying own on a bench, with my bag underneath. It took some time to fall asleep, and my sleep wasn't comfortable. But my flight wasn't till 11:20, so any way of passing time was a bonus, and I was nodding off anyway.

When I woke up again, it was 7:30, and I felt like watching a movie. So out my music/video player bought in La Paz was pulled, and the Bucket List watched. It is a wonderful movie, that I like most of the movies I watch would recommend, but this movie especially is worth watching, I consider it a small life confirming masterpiece with a good if unrealistic ending. I check in, and with absolutely no money left and an airport tax of 25 CUC to pay, I exchanged my 50 USD into CUC, which came out at 40 instead of the 46.3, that it should officially, but the USD dollar suffers from an extra fine in comparison with other currencies.

Whenever I go through the metal detector, I always make a small celebratory dance when I don't beep, it always makes the security personnel smile, even laugh, and that makes me feel a lot better. This time they called me "Jackie Chan", so I pulled off some extra wannabe kung fu moves, to more amusement.

I bought a sandwich and sat down to write in my diary, but fell in conversation with some Aussie's not from Melbourne (I don't believe it), but instead from Adelaide. But it didn't take long before I had to board the flight, and had the 3 seats on my side to myself.

I arrived in Montego Bay airport (not Kingston, other end of the country) in Jamaica, it is a very nice and shiny airport, but the waiting was substantial (5 hours) so I bought a book called White Oleander, the selection was very small, it looked like the best and the main characters have Swedish names... Wasn't a hard choice.

On the flight to Baltimore (BWI) I sat next to a friendly lady named Jacqueline, that I spoke with on most of the trip. Having something to do while waiting is always nice, and when nice conversation comes along... Even better.

I arrived in the US, and immigration went perfect, my luggage took quite a while, and then things just went to hell ("I would rather reign in hell, than serve in heaven" from White Oleander, although I'm pretty sure it is from somewhere else). As I had been to Cuba (wasn't gonna start lying), they decided to toss my entire bag, and initially wanted to keep everything I had purchased in Cuba, my wooden toycar of a 1957 Chevy, my Fidel Castro hat and my wooden (empty) Cohiba box. But a supervisor came along, and told them that as I am not a US citizen, I can freely go to and from Cuba, and I can bring Cuban items with me, as long as they won't be used in Cuba, and as all those items are coming with me to Denmark, there is no problem.

As I had been detained for quite some time while they searched my bag, I had missed the last bus to the metro station. A taxi driver told me that it runs till 2 in the night, and so he took me there for a staggering 40 dollars (28 miles or 45 km). Once I made it there, he drove off, and I discovered that the last train leaves at 23:30 on weekdays, the 2 in the night train is during the weekend. So I took a second taxi all the way to my hostel for 30 USD, where I checked in and was hit with an extra fine for checking during the night (WHAT?). Annoyed and exhausted I went to sleep, cursing the pathetic customs procedure.

Early morning, tiny breakfast, and out about to see Camaguey. It is a great place, especially the lack of city planning appeals to me, after months of every single city and village being laid out in a grid, these random streets seem to cheer me up. Camaguey is not an extravagant place, square etc. are simple and mostly empty, restaurants (even really nice ones) are cheap, entrance fees to museums and churches are neither non-existent or a mere 1 CUC.

Unfortunately there isn't much to see in the city, so my first action was to go to the bus terminal, and buy a ticket to Trinidad for that very night, at 2:10 in the morning. I then pranced about the city, taking in the sights and eating ice creams (it is a great pastime in Cuba), where I dared enter Coppelia, the greatest ice cream place in Cuba, with one in the biggest cities (Camaguey is the fourth biggest city in Cuba), and here they supposedly serve the best ice cream. What you do is turn up, say "el ultimo" which means "the last", stand behind that person, and wait. Eventually a new group of people will be taken in, and there is a great chaos, and you have to try and retain your place, or be thrown back to the start again. Then you enter, order your ice cream, sit down, wait for a waiter, reorder the ice cream and wait. When the ice cream comes, you dig in and realise... That this is not the best ice cream you have ever had, far from. In fact that very day I had bought an ice cream from a street salesman, that would by far beat the famous Coppelia ice creameria any day.

At the square San Juan de Dios, there is an old hospital (museum now) with a viewpoint over the city from its tower, Camaguey is a lot more beautiful from above, I wonder what Habana would look like from a high viewpoint, they do exist, but only in forms of expensive restaurants.

Back at the casa one of sons (named Jose) of the hostess, put on a movie in English (he is studying English at the local university) and I joined in, it was a zombie movie with Josh Hartnett, I liked it, first zombie movie I have ever liked. It had a very clever twist to it that I have never seen before, nor heard of it. For fairly obvious reasons I won't reveal them, in case anyone here wants to see it, but the ending was really good as well.

After the movie sitting at a table, Jose was joined by his girlfriend Susy (yep, Cuban) and his brother Liuber. The conversation flowed freely for about 2 hours, with only an occasional hiccup where I dug into the Spanish-English/English-Spanish dictionary I had bought back in January in Uruguay, and hadn't used till now. I also now discovered that Jose who is studying English (he had just recently begun) doesn't have a Spanish-English/English-Spanish dictionary, as not only are they very pricy, they are also near impossible to get, they can only be bought in Habana. So I offered mine to him for free (I have never used it, and I am almost out of the Spanish speaking world), however he refused to accept it, and I had to insist for about 5-10 minutes before he reluctantly (but in a state of near ecstasy) accepted it. I felt it would do a lot more good for him, and that I hadn't wasted money on the book, it will serve a better purpose now.

The conversation broke as left for dinner. I went to the same place as I had gone earlier today; my breakfast had been tiny, and there is an amazing Spanish restaurant in town. So instead of eating breakfast or lunch out, I had two small tapas during the day, first a wonderful tuna sandwich (it was on the tapas menu), and later in the day, a cut up and fried chorizo sausage with french fries. However for my dinner (quite cheap actually), I had a wonderful piece of meat, cooked in redwine and served with a mushroom sauce, in best South American/Cuban tradition, served with french fries on the side. I was however very hungry, and followed it up with a 2 CUC pizza, which did in the end fill up my stomach.

Around midnight I took a bicitaxi (a giant tricycle with two passenger seats) to the terminal 4 km away, and the poor man only asked for two convertibles, an amount so low, I paid him 3. Without about 2 hours to wait, I bought a big bottle of water, two chorizo hotdogs and watched The Darjeeling Limited, a very funny movie, although I was surprised by the content, but then all I knew about the movie, was the name. at the second the movie ended, I looked up and saw my bus roll in, what timing.

25th of May:

I woke up as the bus rolled into the Trinidad bus terminal (alarm in my watch), found a casa particular owner who offered a place with a good location at a very good price (15 CUC). Walking through Trinidad in the wee hours, I saw what a beautiful place Trinidad is, and instead of going straight to bed as I had first planned, I grabbed my camera and walked around for little more then an hour, taking pictures, with the city covered in morning light, but still empty (people). But I had hardly slept that night, so I surrendered at 8 o'clock, and went to sleep.

I woke at 12, got dressed, grabbed my trusty shoulderbag and headed out. Trinidad is the most beautiful city I have seen so far on my trip, taking the crown from Colonia del Sacramento which I visited in Uruguay all that time ago in late January. The city is nothing but old beautiful colonial buildings and towers, no new buildings to spoil the look, just perfection. I was starving right about now; I found a place where I would get a giant piece of delicious chicken along with the traditional rice with black beans, and while eating (delicious chicken) Israel Moreno appeared and started playing, a famous trovador mentioned several times in the Lonely Planet, and his music truly is bliss, what guitar work and what a voice.

After walking around and taking several pictures, it was museum time, I started with the Museo Historico Municipal, by now the old artifacts etc. doesn't hold much interest for me, I have seen them all, but the museum has the highest accesible viewpoint in the city, and the birds eye view of Trinidad just adds to the beauty. It was followed by a visit to the Museo Nacional de la Lucha Contra Bandidos, which does have a higher but inaccesible tower. The main attraction here is the fuselage from the U2 plane shot down in the Cuban crisis, as well as a fairly high point, with a different view.

Earlier in the day I had also purchased a Fidel Castro hat and a Cohiba cigar. The hat is merely a souvenir, whereas smoking a cigar in Cuba is vital to the visit. Yes I know smoking is wrong, and it is not a habit I intend to pick up, I just have to try it while I'm here. After eating a sandwich I went back to my casa particular for a short nap; on the way back I came past some trovadors on the street, and while I stopped to take some pictures (and a make a donation), a horse pulling a cart with two boys in it, came thundering past. They weren't in trouble, as they were simply boys and were trying to go as fast as possible. As soon as I had made it inside into the casa, a thunder cracked and it started pouring down big time. When I awoke from my nap, the floor was covered in water, and although most of stuff was placed a bit higher, my trousers were soaked. So I put on a different pair, my rainjacket and went out walking in the rain, both because I love doing it, and because I wanted pictures of Trinidad covered in water, as this was really a flush.

When I sat down for a tuna sandwich, Israel Moreno reappeared, and started playing while I was eating, and caught up on my dictionary, which for the third time now had gotten water damaged. It is very annoying and I am always afraid that the damage will be more permanent, maybe even mould my book. However this time, I am only 3 days from the states, and by extension a hairdryer. My shoulderbag is as waterproof as a camel, the problem is that I would open the bag now and again to get out my camera, and when it pours this much, water always gets in. The same can't be said for my rainjacket which by now (not due to the trip, but how much I have used it previous to the trip), is far from leakproof.

Back at the casa particular, I hung my clothes and shoes out to dry (not raining anymore), and sat down to eat dinner, a giant portion of the wonderful Cuban rice/black beans combination followed by a lengthy conversation with my hostess and her sister, later joined by her husband, all while I was smoking my Cohiba siglo II. And when I say that a Cohiba is a strong cigar, you better believe it. I haven't exactly got experience (my first time smoking... anything), that thing could almost make my eyes water and I did get rather dizzy; on my tour to the cigar factory, it did get explained how to smoke a cigar, so I wasn't inhaling the smoke (my hostess, her sister and her husband helped me as well), but only keeping it in my mouth before blowing it out. Another problem is keeping the cigar alive, those things easily go out.

By the time I was done, it was quite late, and clearly bedtime, after a long day walking, and I do believe a cigar can tire a person easily.

26th of May:

I woke to the sound of salsa being played downstairs, and took a cold shower (no hot water), and as I sat down in the morning to write some postcards, the neighbour who works in the local cigar factory, showed me his giant collection of Cohibas, trying to sell me some at a favourable price. On the way back to Spain and Denmark, I am crossing through the United States, and I really don't want to chance it, so I politely turned down his offers.

I had already seen most of Trinidad, but I had saved a few places of the historic town, as well as outside the historic town to stroll through today, but I didn't find much picture material, except for a man sitting in the street with his rooster and his cane. So I bought a bucket of chocolate ice cream and watched some episodes of Futurama on my iPod. I also discovered that I needed some money, being almost out, and at the first bank I found, I was told that there is no ATM  in Trinidad, it is impossible to get money with a VISA... However I had already bought my bus ticket and had just enough money for lunch, and the next destination is Santa Clara, a fairly big city (4 times the size of Trinidad), which should have an ATM.

So with my remaining money I found a very secretive pallador (very good, meaning it isn't the regular tourist catching place), however my fish turned out to be quite tasteless, but the fried bananas were the best I have had on Cuba so  far, and they be themselves justified the price for the entire meal. By now it started pouring down, just as heavily as the previous day, although a couple of hours earlier on this day; by my bus was leaving fairly soon, so I went back to my casa particular, packed my rucksack in its raincover, put on my rainjacket, and walked in the pouring rain to the busstation.

The busride isn't that long in km, but the road is either unpaved or very bad on this particular stretch, so it takes quite some hours. As a preemptive move, I bought two sandwiches, and here the whole moneda naconal versus peso convertible come into play. Due to my money shortage, I only had moneda nacional left, and I was allowed to pay with those. The sandwiches cost 10 moneda nacional each (I had 2), but 2 peso convertible. For the 4 peso convertible two sandwiches cost (normally), I would have been able to buy 9 (and a half) sandwiches, some catch.

The bus was on time and left in the pouring rain, but after about 10 minutes or driving or so, the sun broke out and shone.

Arriving in Santa Clara, the city of "Che" (his monument and mausoleum is here, as this is the location where he won his most important battle), I was almost assaulted by casa owners, but found one I deemed good, and went there in a horse pulled carriage for hardly any money (a bicitaxi would be more expensive, which makes no sense). The owner (technically her sons own the casa) is a sweet red haired woman in her 60's who talks very lively. Once settled in, I decided to walk to the busterminal to figure out a ticket to Habana, and on the way back eat dinner.

The last bus of the date I wanted is actually the day after, at 3.20 in the morning, that way I can take a taxi straight to the airport when I arrive at 7 in the morning, however it isn't possible to buy a ticket, I have to go there at 2.20 in the night, to wait and hope for the best; the taxi from the busterminal works out at 25 CUC, quite a lot, but the airport is far outside the city, and with the busticket at 18 CUC, it is quite a high cost. When I left the terminal, a taxi driver offered his service, pickup at my casa at midnight, and a direct drive straight to the airport for 50 CUC, too much, so now with the ability to haggle a bit (I am REALLY ad at hagling), I ended up with a price of 40 CUC for the following midnight (between the 27th and 28th of May).

On the way back I stopped by La Concha restaurant, and had a wonderful meal and dessert for hardly any money. I caught a bicitaxi back to my casa and enjoyed sweet sweet sleep.

27th of May:

I woke up at 7 in the morning, hardly believing what had just happened, but after 2 hours of lingering I was fine with getting up, grabbed my stuff and after a quick shower went out to see Santa Clara. The supposedly best cigar factory in Cuba is in Santa Clara, so I went to take a tour, but I was sent to a faraway tour agency to buy the ticket, and then return. But due to one of the mainstreets being under construction, the one the tour agency is on, it took a very long time to find it. I eventually found it, bought a ticket and went back to the factory, where I waited for roughly 30-40 minutes before I was given a tour.
The factory is very different from the one in Habana. It was a lot more personal (I was the only person on the tour), and it seemed much more authentic.

Afterwards, I went to the spot that has made Santa Clara famous, the place where the last battle as fought, where Che Guevera  derailed a train filled with 300 heavily armed Batista soldiers, and defeated them. There is a half hearted attempt at a museum made out of train wagons, but it isn't all that much worth seeing, so I headed towards the "Che" mausoleum and museum, at the far end of Santa Clara. On top there is a giant Che statue which can be seen from far away, and not only is the museum fantastic, really world class, the mausoleum (with his remains together with those of 16 of his fellow soldiers that fell with him in Bolivia) is incredibly eerie. Camera's aren't allowed in the museum or mausoleum, just like it wasn't allowed inside the cigar factory in Habana. In Habana we were told that it was because of the workers being annoyed, but in Santa Clara the explanation was that it was due to political reasons.

I then walked around to the other points of interest in the Lonely Planet book, although none of them were interesting in even the least, so I walked back to my casa particular and rested. I went downstairs (two floors) and talked with my kind hostess, who showed a particular interest in Denmark (her niece is studying in Denmark somehow), and our political system, as well as the economy, and anything I could possibly say about the country, I also asked her about the "periodo especial" (1990-1995), a time of severe food shortage in Cuba, as the USSR fell and the US passed the Torricelli act.

Just like in Trinidad, it just suddenly started pouring down, although this time the thunder was very close and VERY loud. It didn't alarm me, but one year old Jonathan wasn't happy, so Robin Hood was put on in Spanish, and we watched it together. My dinner wasn't till 20, so I got rather hungry, but it was raining too much, I had gotten my shoes soaked just a few days before, and it is hell to get them dry again. So I soldiered it out, and when the dinner came on the table... My oh my. I suddenly realised why my kind hostess had such wanted to cook dinner for me the previous night. She simply just loves cooking, for tourists as me, she can cook food that she wouldn't be able to cook for her family, maybe except for special occasions, and she is something of a cook. Tastiest rice, tastiest pork and tastiest potato soup I have ever had.

After dinner I finished watching Robin Hood with Jonathan, I packed my rucksack. The taxi wasn't supposed to come before midnight, but around 22 o'clock, it rolled up, and the driver insisted that we leave. So I said goodbye, and walked out that door, towards my last moments in Cuba. After picking up another person, we started driving towards Aeropuerto Internacional Jose Marti, and what I remember is the lightning, it was still going off in the distance ahead of us, and while we were driving it slowly shifted to being on our right, before in the end being behind us, it was stunningly beautiful. I also remember the driver trying to smoke, but his two front windows couldn't close, so he had to duck his head down below the dashboard and light a match (requires two hands), and try to turn on his cigarette; but the wind would still most often blow the match out, so it took several harrowing attempts, although luckily the highway was deserted, so nothing happened.

I didn't sleep in the taxi, but that day, the 27th of May, was my last whole day in Cuba.

I studied the Cuban revolution quite a lot in sixth form (college/high school/gymnasiet/VGS), and I am therefore quite eager to see the important sites of the revolution, but first I went to Santiago, some two hours east of the Granma landing. It didn't see any hard fighting, but it is Cuba's second largest city, and was described very positively in the Lonely Planet.

As soon as we stepped out of our bus we were assaulted, assaulted by jinoteros (hustlers) trying to get us to their casa particular, or simply just trying to get us to use their taxi. Out of the crowd we chose the most reasonable and a very forward taxi driver, who didn't mind stopping so that I could by a ticket; the following day I was headed to Bayamo, capital of the Granma province, named so after the boat Fidel and his soldiers landed in (in that province).

Lisa and I somewhat quickly discovered that there wasn't much to Santiago, it didn't look or feel particularly Cuban, just a dump of a city. Food is quite expensive, but at least it isn't as hot as Habana. After quite a lot of looking, we found a place that suited our budget and taste buds, and it was absolute heaven, simply gorgeous sandwiches for next to no money, sharply followed by 650 CC (6,5 DL) of chocolate ice cream between us. After 30 minutes at a netcafe, where I mainly spent my time trying to post my last blog (La Habana), which felt like it took the time a slug takes to run a marathon (30 minutes?).

Being tired after a night in a bus, almost no matter how comfortable, is very normal, so a siesta at the casa was in order, after which we went out for a final dinner, when I was to take my bus to Bayamo, Lisa would already be on her way to Baracoa. The Lonely Planet mentioned a very good pizzeria, which also turned out to be inside a resort. I thought the pizza was quite expensive, but remembered that not only was it cheaper than in Denmark (everything is), it was actually cheaper than pizzas in Argentina, and the pizza was an absolute dream, Lisa had some pork chops, and can unfortunately not attest to just exactly how good that gourmet pizza was.

For dessert I felt that some ice cream was in order, so we walked to the other side of the street, but the only flavour left (ice cream at state run restaurants is buckets only), which I had never heard of (mammy), so instead I went for a tuna sandwich.

After the dessert, things got funny, we got a taxi for 3 CUC across town (very cheap), and went to a place called Casa de las Tradicionas, where a band was playing wonderful music, much in the style of Buena Vista Social Club, in fact they even played covers of their songs. There were 8 people in the band, and just 6 spectators, but they played wonderfully. A bass player, a trumpeter, a drummer, a drummer/cowbell player (MORE COWBELL), a guitarist and 3 singers; the first playing with 2 sticks, the second a long tube with rills, which he would let a pen glide over, and the last a dancer, a man in his late 50's with converse like shoes, big canvas trousers and a very colourful blue and red shirt, he was very funny, and had the best moves in this hemisphere (that's better than Michael Jackson). Instead of simply tipping them, I bought their CD, which came to the same amount as what I wanted to tip.

22nd of May:

Damned early morning, my bus wasn't till 9 o'clock, but Lisa was leaving at 7.35, so I came along to save money on the taxi, and to give a proper goodbye. The milk at the breakfast was outright repulsive (first milk I have had on my travels), but the eggs were very tasty, so with a good stomach we climbed into a taxi and went to the terminal, checked in our luggage and waited. Lisa and I said goodbye, and some time after she had left, I thought to myself "wait a bugger", my luggage checked in for Bayamo, had gone on her bus to Baracao, so I raised the alarm, and with flailing arms, I alerted the employees to their mistake.

A search and rescue operation was set in motion, all the stops where the bus would about be at, were called. The rucksack was located and dropped off. The initial plan was for me to go to Bayamo, and pick it up there at 17 o'clock, but they could see that didn't please me, so a jinotero went off on a motorbike, and relayed my bag to a different bus headed in my direction (he couldn't take it all the way on a motorbike), so about 2 minutes before my bus was to leave (it was being held for me), another bus rolled in, and brought me my bag; it was such a relief, not having to be claiming my rucksack all around Cuba, lacking my stuff. I had to pay 10 CUC for the extra service, but the jinotero had actually been rather kind, so I just accepted it.

In Bayamo one of the jinoteros knew my name, turns out that when the casa owning lady in Santiago de Cuba, had asked me if I was interested in some accommodation in Bayamo, she had called ahead and told them I was coming. So I got a lift on a bicitaxi, which is a giant tricycle with two seats and some floor space (for my rucksack). They aren't allowed to take tourists, so in a place like Habana they are incredibly expensive for tourists, the driver charges more for the risk, and because tourists do it as a novelty. Here there is no risk, and it is the dominant form of taxi around.

I arrived and was in awe, the place (the casa, not Bayamo) was gorgeous and luxurious, the shower was fantastic and nothing lacked, I was sure it would cost a fortune, but the lady in Santiago de Cuba had told me it would be cheap, and if otherwise she would be the first Cuban to lie to me.

I had come to Bayamo to visit "Comandancia La Plata", Fidel Castro's rebel headquarters during the revolution, the main problem is getting there (no public transport), whether or not it will be open (intermittently) and getting back on the same day (still, no public transport). I went to a travel agency to try and get some more information, and by a miracle, they could arrange an excursion, by taxi both ways (50 km on shoddy roads), a jeep up Cuba's steepest road (climbs 800 meters in a distance of 5 km) and the necessary guide for the tour (illegal and impossible without), for a total price of 100 USD. And considering how important it is to me, I accepted without hesitation.

The rest of the day I wandered around Bayamo and ate quite a lot of ice creams (you can get 48 ice creams for what is equivalent to one dollar), which were just damn good, they had only two flavours, chocolate and strawberry, and they both just blew me away. Unfortunately, there isn't much to see in Bayamo, it looks like any South American city, just a lot more prosperous. I only had CUC (peso convertible) on me, and the price of the ice cream was in peso nacional; so the first time round, I just tried to pay with my smallest coin, 25 centamos (roughly 25 US cents), or what is equivalent to 12 ice creams, and I was only trying to buy two. The saleslady refused to take my coin, and gave me two ice creams for free, one of the reasons why I kept coming back, as soon as I had traded some money from CUC to pesos nacionales.

Back at my casa, I took a nap which ended up taking several hours, and when I awoke, it was dark and I was starving (it was 20 o'clock), so I went out for dinner, and then noticed the culinary disaster that is Bayamo. I walked for ages and in the end found 3 places. One that wouldn't accept me on account of my shorts, one that charged 20 CUC for a small piece of meat (outrageous price) and a vegetarian place which was out of pasta. I went for the veggie place, and had some huge fruit cut in slices and fried, the taste wasn't all that bad, but a wafer would have filled me more, so I looked in my Lonely Planet, and decided for a little walk to a place some distance away, but I really needed food. I went there and had a fish, which was much more tasty, much more filling and came with decent rice and black beans.

23rd of May: Comandancia La Plata

Early morning, I was to catch a taxi to Villa Santa Domingo, to go visit Comandancia La Plata, Fidel's wartime headquarter from 1957 to 1959, something I had come a long way (and paid a good deal of money) for. A taxi picked me up at 7.45 and took me the 1 hour and 15 minutes to Villa Santa Domingo, where I had a tiny breakfast, a 2 egg omelet with 2 crackers, as that was all they had.

I then met Mino, my guide for the trip, as it is illegal to go alone, however unlike as the Lonely Planet writes (it has changed very recently), it is legal to bring a camera into the area, for a beefy fee of 5 CUC.

The tour was started by an uphill struggle in a 4x4, the road at it's steepest rises with a 40° inclination, it is as steep as a black skiing run, except you are going upwards, with the driver trying to dodge the giant rocks that have fallen down on the road. Once at the top, there is a 3 km hike through cloud forest, it isn't hard, just on occasion it can get a bit steep. About halfway, there is a small village for people working at Comandancia La Plata, maintaining it, and the place is just full of solar panels and satellite dishes, I noticed that besides having them for phones, they are also equipped with internet, a rarity even i Habana.

The first revolutionary hut, is the outlook, and Che's medical treatment post, it is a simple straw house, some distance beyond that is a museum, with assorted artifacts and a lot of pictures from the old days. But that is just the warm-up for the actual thing. The first thing really to be seen, is a tree that Fidel would use for target practice, and which is still riddled with bullets, the poor tree. Immediately beyond that, is Fidel's house, with a phantom door, which when opened reveals his living quarters, along with his fridge that has a bullethole in it and his writing desk, in the adjacent room is his bed and library (he read a lot, even during the revolution).

Further on from his house is his personal toilet, where the revolutionary leader could have some... Personal time. Further on is the building in which Fidel Castro drafted and wrote the final, initial constitution and declaration of a "new" nation. There are several other buildings surrounded which was used as accommodation for the troops under Fidel.

The trip back brought us out in front of the outlook post, and the trip back was exactly the same as coming in, no big surprise, the visit had been like Easter Island, just like standing next to those statues gave of a feeling of something special, something unique, visiting that place (Comandancia La Plata), there was something special, something unique about it. It was without a seconds hesitation worth it, I absolutely loved to visit the place; and my guide Mino was something special, he described everything in wonderful detail, gave great attention, and was thoroughly interested in my camera, as he was planning to buy a digital camera this June. His intention was to buy a Panasonic camera with a 12x optical Leica lens, a Zf-51 or so, and have it shipped from Germany to here, he had been saving up for the past 9 years; so because he had been such a great guide, I gave him a fairly handsome tip, so that I could help him take pictures of his 4 grandchildren and his one young child. Did I mention that he only speaks Spanish?

Back in Villa Santa Domingo (having gone down that harrowing road), I was told that my taxi driver had buggered off and traded me off to another driver, who would be waiting for a group of Americans that we leaving about 2,5 hours later, so no ice cream for me, as I was planning to leave on that same day for Camagüey. I ate some mentally expensive lunch (I was starving), and sat down to wait around. After about 2 hours, an American and a Brit cam tumbling in, they weren't the ones I was waiting for, but on account of my taxi voucher saying "3" under turistas, I offered them a ride, and together we waited for the taxi. When it came in, we went to the driver, and told him that the three of us wanted to go; he at first would only take me, but we soon got him turned around, and were off. I imagine another taxi would take the American group, but I have no idea.

We arrived in Bayamo, just so that I had enough time to go to my casa, check out (it came to 15 CUC, hilariously cheap, considering the luxurious place that it was), go back to the terminal, eat an ice cream, and board the bus, where I discovered that the American and the Brit had paid me ticket, as I had refused to let them pay for their share of the taxi (I would just have gone alone otherwise).

Somewhere along the trip we stopped for 45 minutes in a tiny town, still hungry, I set about trying to find some food. There was a small restaurant next to the busstop, it was outrageously expensive, so I tried to find somewhere else. Being unable to find anything, I wondered why such an expensive place would look a bit crummy and be next to a busstation, although the latter might explain the price; but that wouldn't explain why only Cubans were eating there, a fried chicken cost 15 or 20 CUC. So I went back in to make sure the price was in CUC, which it wasn't, it was in peso nacionales, so the prices were cut to about 4% (96% discount) or more accurately, the price was cut by 1/24; so I had a giant meal for about 1,5 dollars, even cheaper than Bolivia, hard to believe.

Onwards on the trip, I finished Wild Swans, something I had very much been fearing, I absolutely worship the book, and when I finish books that I worship, I always feel empty inside, and I miss reading the fantastic books. Wild Swans is a unique first, second and third hand account of an incredible change in a country, it offered a personal view from experience, of something that I have endlessly toiled over in classrooms and by reading dusty history books; it is not a replacement, but a deeper understanding, and a very important book to read.

I arrived rather late (23), took a taxi to a casa particular, and had my own little crash course in just falling asleep, there was nothing to do this late, not even as I felt a bit hungry.

Having gone to bed around 2 in the morning, both of us (Lisa and I) slept very late, but when we got up, we checked out of the casa particular (wasn't a nice one, and we both had reservations other places), and headed to where Lisa had a reservation, and then I would go to my place afterwards. But the location of Lisa's place was infinitely better located than mine, so I forfeited my deposit (4 USD), for the advantage of a wonderful location.

After our check-in, we left the casa particular, and spend the rest of the day walking around the Vedado part of Habana. Walking around daylight, I quickly became aware of what Habana is like, it is a dreamlike place, nowhere isn't beautiful. The buildings may be crumbling in a lot of places, but they look gorgeous anyway, the look and feel of the place is so genuine, and it fits perfectly with anything around it, no place has been more picturesque on my entire trip. Especially pictures along streets, the lada's and the Yank Tanks (American cars imported prior to the revolution), all make the place exactly like in movies, nothing hidden or covered up.

Malecon is the sea barrier, running all the way along Vedado, and is a very nice place for a walk, but where Lisa and I first came out to it, is at the US Interest office, much like an embassy, but not officially an embassy. The US decided to set up a gargantuan news-ticker, showing international news that the Cuban government would normally censor, so Fidel Castro, had 50 enormous flagpoles set up, obscuring the view so the ticket can't really be read. Walking along, I suddenly sensed how incredibly hot it was (38 degrees, a sudden change from the 10-15 degrees in La Paz), so I suggested one of Habanas famous ice cream parlors, and so we went to the most famous one, Coppelia.

Coppelia is a legend around here, the problem however is that tourists have to go to a special cafe there for their ice cream, instead of joining the real queue. As tourists the money we have is CUC (pesos convertibles) where as the locals have pesos (pesos nacionales). So we couldn't get the real ice cream, but had to do with the tourists edition, which isn't as good and has a smaller selection, so I made it a mission to buy some with pesos nacionales at some point, the problem can just be getting a hold of it.

After the ice cream, we walked towards the University of Habana, which is supposed to be very stunning, and on the way there, we came past the most beautifully made logo of the Communist Youth League I have seen so far, as well as a wonderful bus, driving for the 5 Cuban heroes, from DC to Habana.
After a lot of problems (such as getting lost), we finally found it, and it really is gorgeous, but the day being Saturday, most everything was closed, such as the museums.

Afterwards we made the way to the Revolutionary Square, with a giant statue of Jose Marti, and a giant face of "Che" on nearby hotel; followed by a trip to the graveyard, which in any case was closed. Walking away from there (looking for a taxi), we realised that we had approached the graveyard from the wrong angle, and that where we were, was actually a very bad neighbourhood, but we made it out intact, with all our possessions, and took a taxi back to our casa particular.

Back there, we were extremely exhausted and ate dinner in the casa, and just did nothing, except plan the next day (somewhat), and hear about what was going on. The dinner was delicious, and a mere 3 CUC.

18th of May:

The morning was much earlier then the previous day, and while taking a shower, I discovered that I had a beautiful view of the nearby church, but which was nothing compared to the view of the roof we had been shown the previous day, from the top everything worth something in Habana can be seen, it is truly amazing.

Yesterday was Vedado, so today was Habana Centro, which is smaller, but also more tightly packed with places and things to see. Yesterday we had been told that in a specific location (about 4 blocks away), there would be a sort of dancing competition with local music, and some performances, so we arrived just as it was about to start, and the music was so alive, and the dancers very skilled. It really was one of those things, you just hope to see while you are travelling, so after a lot of watching, we moved on. This part of Habana isn't all that "different", it is just that every is picturesque, and every picture seems better than the previous one, so stopping often for pictures is a passion of mine, as well as one of Lisa's.

We made it to a pedestrian street which leads to Parque Central, where the Gran Teatro is, and which is right next to El Capitalo, the capitol building which was built to resemble the US capitol building in 1902, and which is a museum today, and very interesting to see, and some funny pictures were taken. Afterwards we walked down the main street Prado (Paseo de Marti), to the bastillo, which is quite broken down, and the main interest being on the other side of the bay, which isn't accessible by foot, so some people watching was done, more specifically Cuban boys jumping into the water from the Malecon.

Afterwards we walked to the Plaza 13 de Marzo, where the Museo de la Revolucion is housed, which is almost a funny museum, I mean funny in the way, that some of the things displayed make you laugh to yourself, "This pen used by a soldier from the revolution when he was in Spain" and similar artifacts which hold little or no historic value, except for having some remote tie to the revolution. On the other end of the scale, the Granma boat that Fidel Castro and his 81 revolutionaries landed on Cuba with, still exists and is kept in a constantly armed glass building just behind the museum, and is somewhere between awe and weird.

Being extremely hungry by this time, we started looking for somewhere to have a bite, and finally found a place where I had a nice simple sandwich (saving my hunger for dinner), and Lisa had a big rice dish with chicken and some vegetables. We headed back to the casa, where I had about an hour till I was to be picked up at 19 o'clock, by Per, a friend of my fathers, whom I was having dinner with. He picked me up on time together with his Cuban wife (Cathrina), and they took me to a palladore, a private restaurant, which in theory can only house 12 people, and not serve meat of any sort, cow, pig, chicken etc.

But these rules are rarely obeyed, and in reality it could hold something like 50 people, and served all kinds of meat. I ate a wonderful chorizzo starter, a "mixed from the grill" main course containing meat, fish and some assorted shrimp/prawn like things, and for dessert a wonderful sort of cake covered in chocolate. But the really wonderful things was the company I had. Per is a very interesting person, who like me loves to talk, and his wife Cathrina is in all likelihood the closest I will ever come to talk personally with on this trip, regarding the government and the way of life for Cubans, as she speaks fluent English, and in private did not appeared bothered to speak about the government, but the conversation went on throughout the meal, and I very much enjoyed myself.

During the meal I had asked about the bar where Hemingway went to booze up (the only fitting term for Hemingway), as I wanted to visit it. Instead Per and Cathrina took me there, but it was absolutely stuffed, so we went to another place where he used to drink, at the sixth floor (top floor) of a very nice hotel, which has an extraordinary view. Per ordered mojitos for all of us, but neither Cathrina or I liked it. To me a mojitos apparently tastes like eating a spoonful of sugar, with some lemon squeezed on top of it, but who am I to judge?

Per and Cathrina then took me back, and I had had an amazing time, it really was pleasant to be in there company, and they gave me a lot of hints of what to do and see. At the casa particular I was exhausted and went straight to bed.

19th of May:

One of the earlier mornings, with a wonderful omelet. And the lady owning our casa particular, told a story about how people from Habana call people from Santiago de Cuba (where I am going next) Palestinians, because they are always making trouble, quite horrible, but still funny somewhere. We set out at 11 o'clock, and took a car (normal car' stop, as well as taxis) to the Viazul terminal, with the objective of buying a busticket to Santiago de Cuba. We each bought a ticket for the 14 hour trip, for the 22 o'clock bus for the next evening, and then took a taxi to Habana Vieja, and at first did the Lonely Planet walking tour, which begins at Plaza Vieja, goes past Plaza San Francisco de Asis, Plaza de Armas and ends at Plaza de la Catedral, which is right next to La Boquedita, where Hemingway used to empty glasses of mojitos. And true to the spirit, Lisa had a mojito, which I tasted and still didn't like, although it wasn't as sweet as the previous night.

We then sat down for lunch, where I had a delicious cheese burger (although I had ordered a tuna sandwich) followed by a tuna sandwich, all of which worked out quite cheaply (4,5 USD). The nice looking places in many cases are the same price, as those places that look far worse, a result of everything being state-run/owned, none of which I am complaining about, as a tourist. And after lunch, we started hitting museums, old presidential palaces, chocolate museums as well as a closed museum, supposedly containing a lot of older cars (older than the ones on the street), but more interestingly (or not) a car that Che Guevera himself crashed. In one of the presidential palaces (which later housed the US governor (not ambassador), there was a peacock strutting about, as well as the guards, would swing the barriers aside, and guide us around the restricted areas, which really made all the difference, especially when they would talk about the different objects.

We then started heading slowly back towards our casa particular, taken in the look and feel of parts of Habana we hadn't yet seen, and entered a supermarket, which adhered to all ideas of socialism. There were plenty of products, but just one of each. When we made it back to the casa particular, we had been walking for 8 hours (although, that does include when we had lunch, so maybe 7,5 hours), and gracefully ate dinner at the casa, which was very good, and for dessert included a sort of "risengroed", a favourite Danish dish of mine.

Habana Vieja, is very different from the other parts of Habana, it doesn't feel nearly as genuine, as in the last 8 years, it has been fully restored, as attracting more tourists there will generate more profit, so all the buildings look new and clean. But the real Habana, the Habana that Cubans inhabit is different, that Habana is more like Vedado and Habana Centro.

Jazz, Lisa and I went to a jazz club on the main street in Vedado, and so help me, I loved it. An amazing band played, and although I don't favour the sound of the clarinet, the double bass player, and the drummer were fantastic, when they cracked at it, the roof lifted and the world rocked. The jazz kept playing, and after ttwo hours of appreciation, I was knackered and I had trouble getting back, although I eventually did. Speaking of that, finding the place was almost as fun as getting back; Lisa had found it in the Lonely Planet, but by the time we were on the street, she had completely forgotten where it was. And the casa being on the fourth floor, we tried to find it. All Lisa could be rememer was 4 or 5 blocks in a direction, and then to the left.

So after walking 5 blocks in one direction, we turned around and tried another direction. After 6 blocks we came to the main street, and I mentioned a jazz place that Per had shown me, and that was it. In all fairness, Lisa did remember that it was in the direction of the water, which limited it to 2 directions.

20th of May:

4 months out travelling (I'm not in South America anymore), and luckily I have so much to show for it, the places I have been, and the things I have seen, all add up to the wonder that is this trip, I feel truly fortunate to have been granted something like this.

On this the last day in Habana (on this stint, I am staying a night when I leave), we decided to do all the things, we hadn't done. When we went to the cigar factory the previous day, it was closed. When we had gone to the cemetery, it was 20 minutes from closing, and the side we were on didn't have an entrance.

So we started by going to the cigar factory, and got a brilliant tour there, it was very interesting to see how cigars are made in Cuba, and be ascertained that the conditions they are made under, are a far cry from appalling, it was well ventilated, and the workers seemed happy. There was also a lot to be leaned, how the leaves are treated, separated and made into cigars. Also what dictates quality, type and taste, and finally how much a cigar can cost, up to 375 euro, for the most expensive cigar produced, which is a Cohiba Behika.

That was followed by a visit to the Museo de Bellas Artes (the museum of beautiful art), which is a gorgeous museum, exhibiting Cuban art, all the way from the 17th century up to today, exhibited in chronological order. I must admit to liking the art from just before, during and just after the revolution, it really is the most interesting. The more modern forms of art do not appeal to me, and the older art, I unfortunately found a bit boring, except for paintings depicting naval vessels from the age of wooden ships, Napoleonic and such, I really do love those. Equally fascinating was the ham and cheese sandwich served in the cafeteria, wonderfully delicious, high quality bread, ham and cheese, with the ham and cheese liberally dealt out in the sandwich, at a low price.

Having eaten an entire sandwich each, Lisa and I headed to the Necropolis Cristobal Colon, like Recoleta in Buenos Aires, this is the place in Cuba to be buried. Hosting more than 2.000.000 corpses, this place is also extremely big, and plays host to several famous people. Maximo Gomez, general during the second independence war; senora Amelia Goyri aka. La Milagrosa (the miraculous one; named so, as she died in childbirth, and was buried with her child at her feet. When she was exhumed 12 years later, her body hadn't decomposed at all, and the child was now resting in her arms), the 1890 monument to firefighters etc.

It isn't as beautiful as Recoleta (I have never seen or heard of a cemetery to match it), but it holds its own air, the feeling of limitlessness is however absurd, the place is enormous, measuring roughly 700 by 300-400 meters, it actually takes quite a while to leave it. Having done so, we walked towards Parque Lennon.

When I had first mentioned Parque Lennon, Lisa had replied "Isn't he the guy who killed millions?". Having confused Lennon with Lenin, and Lenin with Stalin, she left me in a horrified state, which took a certain while to snap out off, but which later on caused quite a lot of laughter, although Lisa still insists on that I said Lenin.

The park is rather small, only takes up a tiny block, but features a statue of Lennon cast in bronze, although a guard is employed as his glasses would frequently get stolen. When we arrived, the glasses were in fact missing. "They say that I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one" is engraved in the stone the bench is set on in Spanish, and the compulsory funny pictures as well as some serious ones were taken.

Afterwards it was getting late, and we headed back to the casa for dinner before heading towards Santiago de Cuba, where Lily (the casa owner) served us the most divine fish, with a magnificent sauce, the dinner was spectacular, and once again it was followed by the risengroed like dessert, with cinnamon.

A taxi was taken to the luxurious bus terminal, with a luggage belt, a proper waiting room and air conditioning, all very nice. We were called to the bus, where I started the journey by watching "Into The Wild", a movie I had had for some time, but which I was even more interested in watching now, as when I had been at the cigar factory, an English person had approached me and told me that I looked like the main character in the movie.

The movie is amazing, I really loved it, and it moved me. I have no plans of carrying out a similar plan, but his intentions were beautiful.