Whenever travel comes up in a discussion (I admit to not being a happy traveller) I always answer with a four letter word. C.U.B.A.

But with a little back and forth, I’ll settle for G.O.L.F.

Well, Sweetie got keyboarding and we got both. She found a very affordable all inclusive package – including golf in… Cuba. Of all places.

Fidel shanks one

Now Cuba is not the most bourgeois destination. Cubans hardly sit around in front of
TV the second Sunday of every April watching the final round of the Masters, and I doubt that all Cubans collectively own more than 14 clubs, although as you can see from these historic shots, both Fidel and Che hit the links in the early days.

Che makes a putt

And not many of the visitors would ever think of porting their tools of misfortune all that way when there’s beaches and bars and music.But. There is a golf resort. And it’s pretty good.

At the Melia Los Americas in Varadero.

The resort itself is Cuban 5 star, which is 3 star anywhere else. But the upgraded rooms are great for Cuba (in the newer section), the buffet is better than most and booze is as it is in Cuba; lotsa great rum with mostly bad knockoffs of everything else. Every night they seem to find a single real bottle of Cointreau or similar which goes quickly.

The reservation restaurants are decent. The Japanese restaurant features sushi and teppanyaki, the fish grill is better and the continental formal dining features a terrific string trio to accompany well grilled lamb chops.

The golf …. was …. great!!! Except for the greens. It looked like someone in their wisdom decided to top dress the greens with sand from the beach; which, of course, is really, really salty so the grass had huge bare spots. But that’s the way things are done down there. Someone gave the order and others obeyed.

The 8th hole in Veradero

The golf itself is memorable. The 8th hole is a 200 yard par three along the Caribbean Sea that goes over a valley (which collects anything short and takes it about 100 yards to the right) to an elevated green on the edge of a cliff. A magnificent hole that would fit into Pebble Beach easily.

The 18th hole is a 450 yard Par 4 that travels along the edge of a cliff its entire distance from an elevated tee to an uphill tiny green into the teeth of the trade winds. Short approach shots will roll a hundred yards back down the hill. One of the greatest holes this author has seen among the five hundred courses he’s played.

A few notes. 1/ Golf is not really free; you must pay $35 for a cart. 2/ Golf balls are ridiculously expensive: $7 ea. (Except, of course, since this is Cuba you can buy used ones from kids for $5/dozen.) 3/ While there, take advantage of the top floor bar at the old Du Pont mansion.

The author of this article is also the author of Mojito, a novel about Cuba, is available on our Bookshelf. Click here.

Walking through Parque Central in front of Havana’s Hotel Inglaterra, you will often encounter a small group of men exchanging views at an intensity that will cause you to give them a wide berth. They aren’t arguing about politics, they are arguing about baseball stats and some get quite carried away with it.

If you think that is extreme, wait until you see a baseball game at the Estadio Latinamericano!

First of all, finding out when games are being played is no small feat. You need to ask a local who will in turn likely have to make a few phone calls. If you are lucky, you will be in town the week that a game is being played. If the national league is not in season often there will be international tournaments taking place as was our case when we were able to catch the Cuban national team taking on the best Nicaragua has to offer. If a game will be played, then hop into a taxi and head out to the ball game!

At the Estadio Latinamericano (located in the Cerro neighbourhood) you will find a monolith worthy of national baseball league stadiums of North America (it seats up to 55,000) albeit in slightly less repair. As a tourist, you must find your own designated box office, which is a tiny caged window around back (ask your cab driver to stick around and help you find it) where you will secure tickets at prices slightly higher than the locals. But fear not, if they are paying a peso for theirs, yours is only about 5 pesos, so a bargain by any stretch of the imagination for the caliber of baseball you are about to enjoy!

Inside the stadium, behinds the stands, you will find some small concession stands where sandwiches, peanuts and beer are available. Grab a couple of beers and you are good to go.

As far as we could figure out, there were no reserved seats so, you might be able to get as close to the action as you choose. In our case, since the Cubans were playing the Nicaguarans, the entire side supporting the local heroes was full while the other side of the stadium was nearly empty. You show your loyalties by where you sit!

Once you are in your seats, the fun begins. The crowd (many of whom live only to watch and track baseball) hangs on to every pitch, every fielding success and every hit by the locals as if worshipping some baseball Gods in their midst. And when a run is batted in? Hold onto your peanuts as the masses erupt into a celebration that threatens to shake the sixty-six year old stadium to its foundations.

Between hits and on-field action, in the stands you will notice small clutches of spectators involved in heated discussions. In fact, they are so involved in making their points about whether one player has fifty hits this season or fifty-one, it may appear to the untrained eye that they are about to get into a fist fight. We were sitting near one such group where one guy kept slapping his hand on a big book of statistics similar in the size to the Bible. Their argument lasted the whole game. We kept eying two policemen, who were sitting near us, fully expecting they would have to spring into action but they just ignored the spectacle knowing it was simply part of the baseball landscape.

At any rate, a trip to see a professional baseball game in Cuba is a real treat and if you can figure out how to see one, do go. It should definitely be on your Cuban bucket list and you won’t be disappointed.

Words and photos

Cycling eliminates all barriers between you and the people whose culture you’ve come to admire. It says “I’m not here to just look, I’m here to be with you.” Cubanos, a socially exuberant bunch, will love you for it. You’ll come home emotionally enriched for having truly visited these  welcoming, generous, fun people.

Our Cuba cycling trip began in December when we arrived in Havana, taxied to the casa particular where we’d reserved months in advance, and discovered: no room for us.

We never learned why. Before we could engage our 100-word Spanish vocabulary pasted together with Tarzan grammar, Cuban resourcefulness and hospitality rescued us, as it would throughout our journey. Neighbour spoke to neighbour who escorted us to a neighbour whose spacious, clean, comfortable guestroom was vacant.

Our hosts, Orlando and Raisa, both retired physicians. greeted us with warmth and grace.We were astounded to discover that Che Guevara had been Orlando’s comrade and patient throughout La Revolucion.

Learning about Cuban history and society from Orlando, who speaks fluent English, was surreal.
After a day and night walking through Havana Vieja we  loaded our panniers, hugged our new friends goodbye, and pedaled out of the city.

Our day’s mileage goal was too ambitious. The sun winked below the horizon while we were in lonely rangeland, well shy of the next town big enough to have a casa particular. We carried no tent or sleeping bags, because camping is allowed only at a few widely scattered campismos.

Riding into the dark was an option. We had headlamps. Cuban motorists are marvelously considerate of cyclists and most roads are paved. But a single pothole could render a sophisticated bike irreparable in this land of scarcity. So, on instinct, we approached the one house within view.

A woman was in the yard. We asked her an inane question because it was all we could think to say: “Is there a casa particular nearby?” Her answer was cryptically hopeful. “There might be,” she said, then retreated to consult her husband.

A moment later they emerged, opened the wrought-iron gate and invited us in. Neither spoke a word of English. They motioned for us to push our bikes right into their living room.

Both were shy, clearly unaccustomed to spandex-attired Anglo cyclists. This was no casa particular, we realized. Celia and Diego had never had foreign guests. Yet they ushered us in with sincerity and assurance. No hesitation. No fear. 

Celia was instantly concerned for my wife’s comfort. She noticed Kathy’s cycling shoes were awkward on the tile floor. She left then returned, offering a pair of flip flops. She noticed Kathy’s shirt was damp. She returned, offering a neatly folded, white cotton dress. They didn’t know we probably carried more in our panniers than they had in their home. They didn’t care. Celia insisted we sit while she made up their extra bed. Then, despite our protests, she cooked us a delicious dinner.

In the morning, she refused to let us depart without feeding us a hearty breakfast. Where all this food came from, I don’t know, because I peeked into the kitchen and saw nothing.

We thanked them profusely and handed them ten CUCs—about a month’s salary for the average Cubano. They refused it until we pleaded that money was the only gift we had to offer in exchange for their immense kindness.

Celia cried as we left. No doubt she was worried for the crazy Anglos on overloaded bikes who obviously didn’t know what they were doing.

The cycling was brilliant: past sugar cane fields, through lively villages, and along the ocean. The weather was comfortably hot and consistently sunny. The meals prepared for us by the madres (mothers) at every casa particular were heaping, tasty, and fortifying.

We cycled from Havana west to Vinales. For an entire day, between Soroa and La Tranquilidad, we were passed by just five vehicles while we followed a ridgecrest road lined with an explosion of tropical greenery and  glimpses of the Caribbean far below.

In the east, between Bayamo and Santiago de Cuba, we cycled three 70-km days with the ocean often in sight. In each hamlet, someone immediately reminded us that cycling wasn’t the goal, it was merely the means. People greeted us with smiles, waves, handshakes. They showered us with attention, compassion, deference. Twice more we were invited to stay with families who were as accustomed to Anglo visitors as they were to Martian invaders. Each time they forced upon us the most lavish meal they could muster and the biggest bedroom in the house.

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On Friday, Cuba hosted Canada in a world cup-qualifying showdown of footballing minnows. Cuba hasn’t qualified for the finals since 1938 while Canada have to look back to 1986. This was billed as a must win between the two weakest team in the 4-team second round qualifying CONACAF group which also includes Honduras and Panama.

The game kicked off at the Havana’s Pedro Marrero stadium at 2pm which on a blisteringly hot June day, is an hour when only mad dogs and Englishmen are normally about. The atmosphere was boisterous and lively with typical Cuban characteristics. At US 5 cents a ticket this must be the cheapest entrance to a world cup qualifying game anywhere. No seats but comfortable stone seating and, crucially, shade over one side for the fans at least.

The pitch looked surprisingly green and lush and indeed perhaps a barren dustbowl would have been preferable to a surface where the long grass sapped the energy and seemed to limit the tempo even in the final period. You had the feeling they needed some more time to appreciate the delightful half time entertainment.

Cuba has something of a goal-scoring problem at present as Cuban forward Alain Cervantes explained in an interview with The Associated Press: ‘We have a solid team, but scoring goals is our pending task. We lack a killer instinct and skill at decisive moments, in part due to our lack of international experience…’

Cuba looked good bringing the ball out from the back, elegant players sweep the ball up-field, holding and carrying the ball with poise. It seems to take forever though and by the time they approached Canada’s area they had run out of ideas and the final ball, if not terribly delivered, was almost an afterthought.

Canada on the other hand have a solid hard-working feel to them at the back, not much elegance here but they dealt pretty comfortably with the Cuban attacks. Up front Dwayne De Rosario and Olivier Ocean were in a different league from anyone else on the park. Quick, sharp and ultimately decisive as Ocean headed in a glorious cross from David Edgar in the 54^th minute.

Nine minutes later Cuba finally found some penetration with an insightful through-ball, which the Canadian keeper Hirschfield handled out of his box, an infraction for which he was sent off. The Cuban supporters went wild as the red card was shown and chants of Cuba, Cuba, Cuba rang out, surely this was going to see a change in the nature of the game.

Once order was restored Cervantes stepped forward to strike the ball inanely over the bar and that was pretty much that. Canada now rallied with 10 men and looked the more likely to score in the last part of the game. Cuba would work hard to bring the ball down the pitch only to let themselves down with the final ball, the final touch, the final shot.

By the end there simply was not enough tempo on the Cuban side and as the final minutes ticked by the Cuban crowd was amazingly out-sung by a raucous and delighted small Canadian barmy army wrapped in Canadian flags who even had the cheek to shout out Ole, Ole, Ole as the Canadian team strung 22 passes together – perhaps a Canadian record. As the final whistle went the Canadian team were delighted to have eked out a 1-0 win while the Cubans are left with a must do better motif. And everyone else was looking for where they could get a good stiff mojito!

Jardines de la Reina has established a reputation as one the best dive and fishing spots in the world. Isolation and environmental protection have enabled the marine park to thrive evidenced by the abundance of huge jewfish, barracuda, bull ray and tortoise, not to mention reef sharks. The Avalon dive is for shark—junkies, and in 25 meters with good visibility and very little underwater current, it is common to see up to 20 reef sharks searching for a dead fish that the dive master has previously hidden.

2. Cueva Azul — Isla de la Juventud 45 minute—drive from EL Colony 

Isle of Youth offers the most dive sites in Cuba (56) and is a natural paradise offering giant coral, caverns, tunnels, huge mogotes, impressive walls as well as a great fish selection. The Cueva Azul (Blue Cave) is a great cave dive, which you enter through a tunnel that has three exits (you will exit at 35 or 42 metres). Extensive sponges, coral and shoals of small silver glassfish greet you; before exiting the wall, you will find the “big blue” stretching a whopping 1,500 metres down. Be warned that the Colony Hotel is a dive hotel and not a luxury resort.

3.  Yemayá — María la Gorda

María la Gorda and Cabo de San Antonio International Diving Centres together have the most number and varied diving sites in Cuba. At the tip of Pinar del Río, they are wild and romantically located, with unforgettable sunsets and a string of beautiful long white sandy beaches. The Yemayá dive is very special. You begin with a descent down the vertical Yemayá wall and return via a “mysterious cave” having seen an abundance of fish, giant gorgonian and black coral.

4. Ojo del Mégano — Varadero

Located 6 miles from the coast, the expedition is organized by Varadero’s Club Barracuda

Ojo del Mégano is a “blue hole” (former cave whose roof broke and sank). Just 10 metres below sea level, Ojo del Mégano acts as a natural refuge for fish of all types including snapper, barracuda, red grouper, plus predators. The walls are crammed with lobster and other coral fish. The hole is 45 meters in circumference and more than 70 metres in depth, and offers an easy and enjoyable cruise.

5. Banco de Jagua — Cienfuegos

50 miles from the coast Organized by the Faro Luna Club on calm days

The “Banco” can be described as a mountain that rises from the abyss. A tricky dive for experienced divers, you go down to between 18 to 40 metres where a wide variety of coral, sponge and marine life, including barracuda, hogfish, grouper, red snapper, parrotfish, stingray, tortoise, cat shark, reef shark, hammerhead shark—and if you are lucky—whale sharks await you.

6. El Colón — Santiago de Cuba

100 km from the city of Santiago in a pretty site called La Mula, where the Turquino River flows into the Caribbean Sea.

7. Tiburones Toro — Playa Santa Lucía  Centro Sharks’ Friends

Another shark-junky dive. Visibility is average, so pick a good day to watch impressive whale sharks being fed lunch. This is done at 28 meters during the turning of the tide and is handled by experienced dive-masters. Make sure you are up current from the sharks and don’t wear red!

8.  El Acuario — Cayo Largo

Cayo Largo is tiny and gorgeous with the whitest and finest sand in all Cuba and an abundance of seagulls, pelicans, turtles and iguanas. Under the ocean, there are 30 diving sites of which I would choose El Acuario where 15 metres below the surface, you will see multicoloured coral fish, sting rays, bull rays, turtles and cat sharks among the coral.

9. El Ebano — Playa Girón Bahía de Cochinos

The stretch from Playa Larga to Playa Girón holds 24 diving sites, which are all accessible from the shore. The beautiful turquoise waters are ideal for snorkeling and diving. At El ébano, the waters are clear and clean with great visibility. Going towards the edge, you dive down into a beautiful canyon, which goes down to 23 metres before the wall begins. Fish can be scarce, but the wall and big blue is awesome, and on your way back, under the crag, there are a number of small caves.

10.  Boca de Caldera — Habana del Este

“Boca de Caldera” is Havana’s best dive spot and is accessible from the rocky shore from where you swim out 200 meters east before dropping down into a small cave at 5 meters, which takes you to the first wall at 12 metres. The good visibility and the absence of sea currents allow you to appreciate the impressive garden of corals, sponges and gorgonians, as well as a numerous young population of coral fish.

The Rafael Trejo gym is certainly not easy to find. Not only is it one of Havana’s best kept secrets, it is also difficult to locate even by the most seasoned taxi driver. Gimnasio de Boxeo Rafael Trejo is located at Calle Cuba 815, Habana Vieja where a small government sign identifies the spot.

When closed (most of the time it seems) the club is sealed up tight behind a nondescript white brick wall with only the ticket booth window hinting what potential excitement lies within. However, a knock on the wooden entrance door will usually yield an answer from the administrator within (not to be confused with the boxing commissioner) who can inform you when to come back to watch the athletes train or compete. The best time seems to be usually on Saturdays when the young champions-to-be are not in school. Frequently signs indicating upcoming events are taped to the door.

Inside, snuggled between two three-story apartment buildings you’ll discover an open area with a single well-worn boxing ring in the middle of the courtyard. On the two opposite sides of the enclave lie modest bleachers for the spectators to sit and cheer. Overseeing the whole spectacle is a tiny office towering over the action in which are the judges and club managers who run the boxing card when the session is on.

Down below young boxers wearing protective head gear and kidney belts fight with intensity as they try to earn valuable points to ascend the standings so that they may compete on a national level. Each sanctioned fight is refereed and timed professionally by dedicated officials.   These people participating in the club, whether they be the fighters, trainers or their siblings or parents, all take the sport very seriously so if you do visit, it is best that to stay out of their way.

We arrived bearing gifts of second hand jeans, t-shirts and running shoes outgrown by our families back home. The club manager who was going to distribute to the most needy of his membership received these with tears of joy.   While there I snapped a number of pictures of the young lads in action. I was able to get in close, ringside, to get some winners. The determination and focus of those young boxers continues to inspire me when facing any of my own personal challenges. Box on amigos. Box on.

Cuban baseball borders on fanaticism. To get a taste of the fervor one only has to venture to the heart of Havana’s Parque Central, opposite El Capitolio (the Capitol building), and into the esquina caliente (the “hot corner”). Here, daily, hundreds of Cubans ranging in ages from their teens to their eighties gather to discuss, argue and debate the best and worst of Cuban, as well as American, baseball. To an outsider, this social custom may seem overly passionate, verging on the brink of physical violence. Onlookers converge around the animated exchange, some piping in, others laughing. You might even see a few wearing Major League caps. The energy and passion are palpable and infectious. No serious hurt feelings however; there’s always the next day’s round of debates.

From the hustle and bustle streets of Havana to more rural settings in towns like Viñales and Trinidad, Cubans embrace the sport of baseball even more than the universal sport of soccer. Kids of all ages play baseball everywhere, from street corners, apartment buildings, parks, alleyways, and every nook and cranny that can provide the faintest semblance of a baseball diamond.

Because of Cuba’s perpetual lack of material goods, the country’s children and young adults creatively make do with anything on hand to play the sport they so love. Flattened cardboard boxes become bases and gloves. Nothing can stop them from playing.

In Havana, the local “Industriales” team are gods. They are the New York Yankees of Cuban baseball. Whether celebrated or loathed, there’s no getting around the fact that team Industriales is the island’s most successful franchise.

All around Havana, graffitied walls speckled with the Industriales team logo are reminders of the passion and love for the ballclub. An apartment building viewed over the left—field fence of Havana’s storied Estadio Latinoamericano is Instustriales blue with a gothic “I” running the length of its dozen stories. If Havana’s Industriales are the Yankees of Cuba, Havana’s other team, the Metropolitanos, are the Philadelphia Phillies. Cuban baseball bans the trading and sale of player: each player plays with his province’s team – 16 in total. The only movement of players between teams is from Industriales to Metros, with such transfers designed to keep Industriales competitive.

The game was introduced to the island in the 1860s and professional baseball started there in 1878, less than a decade after its start in the US. Eighty—seven Cubans, including Adolfo Luque, Minnie Minoso, Tony Perez and Bert Campaneris, played in the major leagues before the Cuban Revolution.

Stadiums date from the 1970’s and most seat only a few thousand. Teams show up only an hour before game time, dressed in their uniforms, many of them carrying their own equipment. Some rituals are unfamiliar to American fans, such as the catcher and hitter shaking hands before the first pitch of the game and the umpires being served drinks by young women in mid—game. There are no scorecards, no advertising and no souvenirs. Just the game.

Cuban baseball has survived a Revolution, the pilfering of its players (by the majors) and less than stellar playing conditions. Long live Cuban Beisbol!