Travels through Cuba: part nine
by Pete Keane

This week Pete Keane from Preston visited the creepy and oppressive Presidio Modelo Prison, where Fidel Castro was incarcerated.

It was another hot day and I was sweltering in no time at all. The gentle climb upwards towards the prison nearly finished me off. I put this down to the evening heat that was making sleep difficult for me.

You can clearly see the marks on the walls of the landings where the bars would have been.

The entrance to the prison is quite a charm, a colonial styled building with a sweeping staircase and marbled floors. However the real business of incarceration lies at the rear. Here you find four enormous circular yellow buildings that sit diagonally opposite to each other.

Once inside the atmosphere is overwhelming, creepy and oppressive. The building - big as it is, was once home to over a thousand men. Looking up you can see five landings arching round in a perfect circle. On the walls are the marks where the bars once sat. Then in the centre is a tower not unlike a lighthouse. This was where a single guard patrolled, moving round the tiny walkway at the top, rifle in hand. He would then send out a warning shot, should anybody misbehave.

Stepping into an individual cell was depressing enough, worse still when I found out that they were designed to house two prisoners. Some of the cell walls were decorated with graffiti-both old and new. Others had amazingly detailed artwork, one in particular had a map of the world. I made my way to the northern end of the block to see what kind of view was on offer. I’m not sure the vista would have been a blessing or a curse; a bird's eye view of the bay where the prisoners were shipped in and an equally splendid view of the ocean….

This detailed map is on one of the cell walls.

I then took a tour round the hospital wing where the political prisoners like Fidel Castro were held. Above one of the beds was a mugshot of the man himself. Without the fiery beard he looked disturbingly normal. Further on I was shown his bed which was tiny, far too small for a man well over six feet in height. Next to this was a small display cabinet that housed his radio. But the thing that impressed me most of all was his copy of ‘Das Capital,’- the seminal text written by Karl Marx. Incredible to think that this was the self-same book that had inspired Cuba’s famous revolution.

I left the prison having enjoyed every moment. After a quick splash in the ocean I headed back to the Casa and had fell into a deep sleep. I was awoken by my landlord, Rey who suggested that we visit Angel, the Ferry captain. He lived two blocks away and we were there in two minutes.

I expected the house to be as well furnished as Rey’s, on account of him being a captain. Instead, we entered a humble, sparsely lit apartment that had very little in the way of furniture. But the hospitality was perfect. After plying us with coffee and biscuits, Angel showed me his collection of English memorabilia, pictures of Buckingham Palace and the Houses of Parliament. His dream was to one day step on English soil and visit our famous landmarks.

Rey, Angel and his wife chatted away in Spanish-most of which I understood so I didn’t feel left out. As the conversation continued my eye wandered onto the wall opposite where I noticed a rather splendid plaque. Angel it seems, had trained as a teacher some years back but later made the decision to become a merchant seaman.

As the night wore on I felt increasingly tired and my stifled yawns were noticed by everyone. We thanked them for coffee and biscuits and departed. Back at Rey’s we chatted about my itinery and I got to thinking that perhaps it was time to hit the road again. Rey suggested that tomorrow being Sunday, I might like to join him and the family for a spot of dinner at a nearby restaurant. This is why I cannot recommend the Casas Particulares enough to any would be visitor to Cuba. Outstanding value for money aside, this is the way to experience the the real Cuba. Not only that, but you also get to meet some great characters. The idea of hotels and tourist driven agendas just fills me with dread.

The views expressed on this page are those of the contributor and the opinions expressed are not necessarily those of the BBC.