Camuguey is a very confusing city – the streets are deliberately laid out in a haphazard and misleading way. This was done as a foil for the pirates who regularly plundered the city, back in the day when plunder and pillage was one of the most lucrative professions available – before governments starting handing out dole money that is.
Much as I admired the cunning puzzle laid down by the city's founders, I couldn't help cursing them as I constantly found myself lost whilst trying not to look like a tourist, yet having to take out a map at every intersection. My efforts were further hampered by the genius who changed all the street names some years ago, so, whilst some streets show the new names, some still show the old names, some both and most nothing at all.
By some miracle I find the Cubator Travel office and am informed that the bus I need to take me to the north coast of the island left two hours ago, the next bus will be thundering through in six days and 22 hours, would I 'like a coffee while I wait?'
Aggravated that I will not get to the north, which is the best place for diving, I take in the delights of Camaguey which doesn't take very long to be honest and includes a statue of a man on a horse, an art gallery, a church (closed) and two bars.
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