For the first bus journey of the trip I am awakened at the outrageously early hour of 5am by the thunderous cock next door. After he has spent an hour shouting from his balcony his rooster starts squaking too and I decide I might as well get up.
I am heading for the hills and the tobacco growing region of Vinales. The bus was spotlessly clean, the seats opulent and before I am able to say 'This may be the best bus journey we have ever taken' Jason Statham and Sylvester Stallone fill the TV screen and I have to endure The Expendables for the second time in five days.
Vinales is a small picturesque village in the western provinces of Cuba and as the bus pulls into the main street it is mobbed by touts wanting me to stay at their houses, their friends houses or indeed any house that I may be stupid enough to follow them to. In Cuba there are two options for accommodation, either the state controlled hotels or privately owned houses (known as casas) which pay a tax to the government but are only allowed to rent out one or two rooms. After fending off the incredibly persistent touts who helpfully inform me that my intended house had 'burnt down', 'been destroyed by tornado', 'fallen into river' I made my way to the one I had been recommended – Casa Lumino.
Lumino is an 80-odd year old Cuban lady who it transpired loved nothing more than cooking and talking.
She really, really liked talking, alas, only in Spanish and clearly she mis-interpreted my fragile Spanish because when I said 'We would like to have dinner here' she heard 'Please give me all the food that Cuba has stockpiled for the humanitarian aid convey to Dafur'.
She really, really liked cooking too.
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