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 East
of Guantanamo Bay is a large hill. After you cross that you reach the
north coast. It is a complete contrast from the coast south of
Santiago de Cuba. Where the south coast was mountainous and wet, the
north coast is flat and arid. Traveling along it is a bit surrealistic with
coast to the south of you and cactus to the north. It was delightful.
Our most obvious objective for the day was to get to
Baracoa (145km, 90 miles) but we kept getting sidetracked.
San Antonia del Sur, at 65km, was an obvious a quick
refueling stop. We checked out the offerings of a few vendors and
cafes, pocked around, talked to some kids, watched people gather for some
kind of program, the exact nature of which was never determined, noted the
museum, and took some pictures. After that we decide we were in
fact hungry so grabbed a snack. The quick stop had stretched to
nearly an hour.
 By
the time we reached Imias (75km) it was close enough to lunch time that we
figured that we had better each while we had a chance. From the map it
didn't look like the next sizable town would be Baracoa, over some mountains
and another 70km along. So we doddled again. Imias is one of the
prettiest towns on the trip. Most front yards are well manicured and
abound with flowers, plams and lush leafy trees. To accent the
delicate, clean, unhurried feel of the town, if you need a lift you could
hire a pedicab.
 In
the course of looking for some rice and beans or some other simple
carbohydrates, we met an English speaking waitress, whose ambitions were to
get out of Imias to Guantanamo, and then get out of Guantanamo, hopefully to
Havana. She was hoping that her English would be the ticket. But
as she explained it, it was going to be as simple as getting the money for a
bus ticket. Job mobility is limited. If the authorities caught
her in Havana without a job she would be sent back to Imias. And
without being in Havana she had almost no chance of getting a job
there. Even if she got a job offer, she would still face the challenge
of finding some place to live. None-the-less she had here dream and
she seemed to have every confidence that she would achieve it. As a
bonus, while we were learning all this we had an absolutely great bowl of
bean soup, rice, and fresh fruit drink.
On leaving I so much wanted the woman's dreams to come true. One of
the toughest parts of meeting people like this is often never know even the
next chapter in the story, let alone the ending.
 After
Imias, there are a few more kilometers of flat. In hindsight, the sign
for Playa de Cajobado should be an ominous sight. First a little
history. Playa de Cajobado is landing point of Jose Marti and Maximo Gomez in
1895, signaling the start of the second liberation war. Marti would
die less than three months later. Gomez, joined by is old friend
Antonio Maceo would fight on and were on the verge of beating the Spanish
force with five times as many soldiers, in 1898, when the U.S. intervened
and beat both exhausted armies.
 At
the sign for Playa de Cajobado, the road leaves the coast and starts
a serpentine climb over the rugged Purial mountains.
 Called
La Farola, this road is an engineering marvel with cantilevered pavement
hanging off the cliffs for long stretches. As the road cut through the
tropical forest, it follows rivers, ridges and the contours of mountains.
All of the topography makes for outstanding panoramas. It is an extraordinarily
beautiful and sparsely populated county.
 Within
the natural environment there is a human story as well. The most lucrative industries
in the area seems to be coffee and lumber. Closer to
Baracoa there is some cacao (chocolate). The mountain soil and climate
must be good for fruit trees and vegetables. Near the summit kids wait
with bananas, pineapples, coffee beans, cocoa, carrots and other produce to
sell to the passing cars and buses.
 This
is the only place I recall seeing a lot of items for sale from roadside vendors --
something very common in tropical Africa. Above all, my guess is the
people in this area like their isolation and the quality of life that that brings.
 Here
I could slip in a full description of everything you should know
behind how your coffee and chocolate gets to your table, but you can get
that yourself when you study the area. Suffice it to say the
processing methods that are being used for coffee are not capital intensive,
so the are probably not producing the highest grade of bean.
 It
may be that the only person who stopped Baracoa first on their visit to Cuba
was Columbus and his crew. Just west of Baracoa may be where Columbus first sighted land
in the New World, in 1492. This was also Cuba's first capital, founded
in 1512.
 For
the rest of us Baracoa is "at the end of the road" and more likely to be
one of the last place you would get to. This
also means that historically not as many outsiders have gotten here, which
gives it some undisturbed old world ways. Unfortunately, the tourism
authorities are doing their best to change that.
 In
the meantime it is a very enjoyable and quaint town to walk and bicycle. The
people are easy to talk to and the waitresses had beautiful smiles. I don't know
if that is because they drink the water of the Honey River, but it flows through town,
 so
it would make a good story. The Casa de Trova opens right on to the street and welcomes
passers-by. The crowd was Cuban -- there few others in town -- so it
was clear that it wasn't being put-on as a sideshow for tourist.
 We
got the basic history over view of town at the museum, which was set in a
fort that had originally be built several centuries ago, and then reinvented
with stronger fortifications with each new advance in military
technology. As part of our understanding of the economy of the
town we visited the cigar factory. The produce a half dozen different labels
here, seemingly from the same leaf stock.
 All
of the production went to the state. The factory could give us a
sample but they couldn't sell them. On the other hand, outside the
factory no one was giving any away, but there were cigars for sell. How do
they do that? Another twist in the Cuban economy.
My favorite visit was to an art studio.
 The
artist had his works around the walls and was working on a small pieces.
His work reflected a range of styles and mediums, all done very well. With
him were several students that were so focused on their work that they didn't give
any indication of noticing us as we looked around and looked over their shoulders
for fifteen minutes. They were totally engrossed and it was from being in
front of a television.
 It
is not something that I regularly felt the need to take pictures of, but
everyday we shared great meals (even when they were simple) and great
discussions with our Cubans hosts.
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