Lovely hotel.  An old colonial building overlooking a square.  The internet is tricky.  Our hotel is about the only place that has it and even then you can only use it in the bar for short periods.  Baptism of fire for Tim and his email addiction and me and my constant perusing of crap on social media.  Because of the internet zone, the square is always busy with people connecting with the internet and consequently each other.  The internet is a social thing here because you have to do it in a crowd.  I even spotted a police officer parked outside last night looking at Facebook.  

Yesterday we went up out of Trinidad in a 4×4 taxi to the Sierra del Escambray to do the Guanayara tour which involved a vey bumpy drive up and down the mountain roads and a 5km trek through the forest with a guide who gave us the lowdown on all the plants and birds.  We then ended up swimming at a beautiful pool with a waterfall.  It was a bit crowded and trying to get dressed in the company of 50 other tourists is a little daunting but we managed to save our modesty for what it’s worth.  We climbed higher and were driven to a weird “ranch” in the middle of a sanitarium complex where we had a utilitarian lunch in one of the state owned restaurants.  Cuban food is nothing to write home about but it’s good.  If you like rice and beans you’re onto a winner.

Today, for some reason we had been booked onto a similar tour but this time to El Nicho, further up and in an old Russian army jeep that was born long before the concept of seat belts or suspension had been imagined.  5 hours round trip being chucked around, dodging chickens and stray cows, for a 1km trek and another waterfall swim.  It was stunning and this time we were alone so it was almost worth the bone shaking journey.  

Most of the road is forest, coffee and bananas.  Not much to see except greenery but the villages are fascinating, as if you’ve stepped back in time.  Very handsome young cowboys on horses, kids riding carts pulled by oxen, livestock roaming freely on the road, the farms hands who wave when you pass and the omnipresent slogans painted on the side of houses praising the glorious virtues of Che and Fidel.