 Last night had to be one of the worst sleeps yet. The bed felt like a bag of porridge. I threw a bit of caffeine into my system and I felt like new again. After breakfast I made my way to the front door. The door itself was a huge blue affair. Once outside it you were in the middle of the hustle and bustle of the city. But inside, you were enveloped in peace and tranquillity, a world apart. I went off in search of the famed Punta Gorda (Fat Point). This famous landmark had fired my imagination back in England. I used to lie in bed at night reading the travel guide and wonder if Id ever see this place for real. En route, I stopped off at the bay area to take some pictures. Sitting on a wall, I took in the lovely view. In the distance I could hear some deep African beats. I decided to follow the music and ended up at a small al-fresco bar that faced the sea. Next to the bar was a small stage, where some ballet dancers were rehearsing. I sat admiring the show and eventually plucked up the courage to ask the name of the music they were dancing to. One of the ballet dancers kindly wrote the name down for me in my travel book. He also told me that they were having their first performance that evening.  | Palacio Del Valle |
Further down the seafront I called into a number of small eateries to buy coffee. No hay electricidad en este momento (no electricity). As I reached the Punta Gorda I was transfixed by a large green palatial mansion. Moorish in design and called the Palacio del Valle. It was built in 1917 by a Spaniard called Oclico Blanco. There was some confusion as to whether the building was ever used as a casino before the 1959 revolution. Now it is a fine restaurant and affords some incredible views across the bay. Opposite the Palacio del Valle is the hotel Jagua. I have a sneaking suspicion that this is where my beloved photograph of the Punta Gorda was taken. I hung around the gardens pretending to be a guest and slipped in through a side door. I made my way up to the top balcony and there was the self same vista as in the photograph. The sun however, is directly facing me so I leave it till later. Outside the hotel I took a caballo y carro (horse and cart) ride into town. I bought some provisions for sandwiches and take a siesta. Some time later I returned to the hotel Jagua and shoot off some pictures. Down in the lobby new guests were arriving. Theres a pair of attractive dancers to welcome them. The whole thing seems so plastic and false. The air conditioning, mass produced carvings and gifts, porters for your bags, dinner at six. In a way I feel sorry for the wealthier travellers. They never quite manage to leave the cocoon that security and money brings. And in the same way that they never truly connect with the places they visit. Back on the mean streets on Cienfuegos I made my way back to the Casa. My measly supper of tomato soup was kindly supplemented by some rice from the owners wife. I then took off to the bar to watch the ballet dancers show. Outside the locals are all wearing jackets and appear to be feeling the change in temperature. On the door I am asked for $6, which is a sharp increase form the $2 I was quoted earlier in the day. I refuse to pay it and go home. I placed the bag of porridge on the floor  and manoeuvred into it. On the floor it takes on an altogether more comfortable aspect. That and the recent drop in temperature ensures a good nights sleep.
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