A brief interpose to the usual witty and genial banterings for a video update. The first, one of the coolest things I have ever seen: a TV on a lightswitch. Every house should have one. Found in a hotel in Morelia, Mexico.

The second, some random Mexican singing. Found in a bar in Mexico City, one is a (drunk) Mexican, the second (doing his best Che Guevara impression) is a (drunk) American. I have no idea what they were singing about, but it was entertaining nevertheless.

As we left Morelia, it quickly became evident that we were heading in just one direction - up. Destination: Zitacuaro at an altitude of around 2000m. The bus takes about 1.5 hours, but that’s largely due to it being a bus in the more traditional sense of the term, that is, it stopped at moreorless every lamppost on the way to pick up all and sundry. But at 100 pesos (about 4.5 quid), we weren’t complaining. Zitacuaro turned out to be a much condensed version of Mexico City - vibrant and active during the day with a seemingly neverending market - but at night there was little to do. Indeed, when we asked the owner of our hotel where we could get some good Mexican grub and maybe a few beers, we felt sure it was our dodgy Spanish that was indicating there were neither bars nor restaurants. As it turned out, there were no restaurants and only one bar, which, touted as a video bar, which was little more than a room with a TV in. Nevertheless, a few Coronas and a great deal of complimentary popcorn later, we were reasonably fulfilled.

In case you were wondering, one of the hardest parts of writing this blog, is picking a good title for each post. I’m absolutely aware that the title of this post shares the same name as British warbler James Blunt’s first album, which is unfortunate at the very least. However, as I prepared to venture back to Mexico and in to Mexico City, I was equally aware of the reputation of the city - absolutely enormous, jam packed full of people and chaotic beyond imagination. Bedlam seems like a good word to describe my expectation. As it turns out, however, it is not an apt moniker nor is the reputation particularly deserved.

Well, when I say “one night”, I, of course, mean “about 14 nights or so” in New York, but I’m sure there’s an expression along those lines. Maybe, it was “One Night in San Francisco”, but then I wasn’t in San Francisco so it wouldn’t have made a great deal of sense. In fact, technically speaking, I wasn’t even in New York (it was Stamford, Connecticut) so largely speaking it’s a nonsensical title and a peculiar way to start this latest entry.

My first impression of Cancún was simple. “Oh my God, I want to get out of here.” Fortunately, it turned out to be slightly unwarranted, but the majority of what you hear about Cancún is true. It is full of hotels and fast food chains, it is full of fat tourists and it is full of locals trying to get your money. I was instantly ripped off by the taxi driver. Late in the evening without a clue where I was, I had been persuaded to accept the overpriced taxi with the promise that if the hostel I was heading to was full, then they wouldn’t leave me until we found one that was available. Well needless to say, as I exited the taxi, after making the driver promise that he would wait, tyres screeched as he left me stranded. Not a great start to my time in Cancún.

After a short break in Havana to collect my main rucksack from my casa, Alice, Mum and I were on the bus to Viñales in the Pinar del Rio valley. I’d been persuaded to visit on the grounds of it being a popular destination, but really had few expectations. The bus arrived in Viñales, and we were met with the worst throng of eager local casa-owners that I’d experienced. It was literally a mob scene, as we wrestled our way through to try and recover our bags from the coach, we were bombarded from every direction by people with their business cards, frantically trying to persuade us to stay with them. We were totally disinclined to stay with any of them, despite the fact that we had no reservation. The Lonely Planet had recommended a place and we had decided to check it out first. They were full, however, the owners took us to another casa two houses up the street, and after inspecting the accommodation were happy to check in.

Still slightly bitter from the shirt-stealing-Jewish-Chilean-Mexican experience, I arrived in Trinidad, where even the arrival is an experience. In most towns that you visit in Cuba, there´s a mass panic as you get off the bus, as the locals try to entice you in to their casa. Trinidad is no exception but is made worse by the fact that you´re first paraded through the streets in the coach as the next wave of presumably money-laden tourists. Fortunately, I was booked in advance so I was able to avoid the main throng of the action, but it´s nevertheless a slightly unpleasant experience. Trinidad is described as one of the best kept / restored towns in Cuba, resplendent with its cobbled streets and architecture. However, it is significantly more touristy than Cienfuegos and seems to be a popular haunt for the coach-package visitors. There´s plenty to do and see, but by this point I had begun to get a feeling of “seen one plaza de la revolucion, seen ´em all”. With that in mind, I checked out some of the excursions with the local tour operators.

It didn´t take long for the scenery to change dramatically. On the bus leaving Havana, you´re no more than 5 miles from the city boundaries when the vista changes from the derelict built environment of Havana to the rolling countryside of rural Cuba. It´s a stunning and beautiful change, not to mention a very welcome one. Instantly you are presented with a different culture - farming and agriculture, usually sugar or plantain, are very much the focus. It´s a simple existence, more akin to some of the places I saw in Africa. People live in basic houses, with mud or clay walls and a straw roof. The roads are dirt tracks and people get around by either horse or bicycle. The country was extremely green, although this might be a positive side effect of the rain that would have been brought by Hurricane Noel. The coach system in Cuba is very good, but to the uninitiated can be a little confusing. There are two operators - Astro and Viazul - with Astro, like most other things in Cuba, being the one that only locals can use. Viazul is the tourist equivalent, and they operate a fleet of big air conditioned buses. They stick to the time schedule well, but in most of the bus stations it´s not obvious from where they depart, since (if they exist) the screens will only tell you about the departures of the Astro buses. Tickets are cheap, though, with most places accesible for between 5CUC and 15CUC. The bus to Cienfuegos takes you through the Zapatos Peninsula, and enormous area of swamp and trees, where you´ll see an assortment of fauna, and even the odd crocodile.

With a slight (and when I say slight, I mean massive) sense of trepidation, I was on a flight to Havana. Cuba has such a reputation, which is, in reality, an undeserved reputation, but nevertheless, a reputation that it’s not such a straight-forward place to visit. Touching down, I was expecting to receive the Spanish inquisition as to my motives for visiting, several intensive (and intrusive) strip searches not to mention a free lesson in Communism and why it’s so great. Well, I got none of it, and as I meandered through customs, so began my adventure in Cuba (where I quickly learnt the first of many important lessons.) I’ll say it straight away - everyone should visit Cuba, it is a truly remarkable place, but be prepared for a massive culture shock if you’re at all used to a Western way of life. For starters, don’t take US Dollars with you as your currency. It seems obvious, considering the well documented ‘issues’ between Cuba and the US, but even if you’re coming from the US (or anywhere that uses USD) try and prepare yourself with either Canadian dollars, Euros or Sterling. The USD has even less value in Cuba than most other places in the world (which is really saying something.) Cuban currency can be pretty complicated - there are two currencies, one the ‘Cuban peso’, which is the moneda nacional and can only be used by residents of Cuba, and the ‘Cuban Convertible Peso’ (CUC) which is no less than 24 times less valuable than the regular peso. It can also only be used in certain shops and restaurants and was introduced as a way of increasing the flow of tourist money in to the country*. With CUC in hand, it was time for a taxi to my casa particulares in the area of Havana called Cerro.

Final thoughts on Eleuthera? Awesome. Such a beautiful island, great weather, incredibly friendly people and an altogether pleasant experience. Not to mention some of the best surf I’ve seen and ridden. Surfer’s Beach is a good spot, although James Point further up the coast is even better. If you’re looking for a surfari, then consider Eleuthera. And I’m sure the Surfer’s Haven would be willing to accomodate you. You’ll meet some fantastic people (my Facebook contacts are growing at a rapid rate!), you’ll inevitably sup some rum (beware the Bacardi 151) and have a very chilled out time.