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.

I escaped the clutches of New York and continued my voyage and now find myself on a beautiful island in the Bahamas - I know, it’s a tough life. The journey here was eventful to.say the least and started early in the morning with a flight out of JFK on JetBlue to Nassau ($45 flying standby - thanks Leo) arriving in around 1030am. I had no intention of staying in Nassau and booked myself on the next BahamasAir flight to Eleuthera ($160 open return) which meant a 7 hour wait in Nassau airport, something I wouldn’t wish on anyone. Fortunately I found an open wireless access point so I was able to pass the time, albeit slowly. Then the drama began. Thick fog an heavy rain had encircled the airport which meant a 40 minute wait on the runway, fearful that we might not leave. We did and the short flight was fine, except for landing in the northerly airport and getting the news that the flight woild no longer be connecting to the central airport at Govenors Harbour. That was no major problem for me as my hostel was roughly in the middle of the two, but it did mean there was an entire Dash-8’s worth of people fighting over the short supply of taxis, in the wind and rain. Worse still the weather, not to mention the impact of Hurricane Noel which had passed over two weeks previous meant many of the small roads had been obliterated. Anyway, a couple of hours later and I was at my destination - Surfer’s Haven - and met by my hosts Tom (a burly Bahamian) and Diesel (a burly Bahamian pit bull terrier.)

I’m still in New York, about a week longer than I had originally planned. My travel plans have been compounded now twice but I hasten to add that my travel plans are a miniscule consideration compared with what is going on here. Initially, the plan was to make my way to the west coast of the USA, such as Los Angeles or San Diego, and use that as a stepping point into Mexico. Unfortunately, just as I was preparing myself to depart for San Diego, the forest fires hit, displacing some 250,000 people and causing no end of grief for the local residents. Fortunately, the situation there seems to be calming, but it’s unlikely to be the best time for me to pop down there for a quick visit.