On our first day in Santiago de Cuba we found a great guide in Elliot, who was to show us the corners off the tourist track on the second day. At sunrise I wandered alone through Santiago’s streets, and after breakfast we set off with Elliot.
Encounters with history and faith
First we visited a 94-year-old woman who grew up right next to Fidel Castro and still lives in the same house. She told us about the old days and showed us photos of Fidel’s last visit in 2002. Then Elliot introduced us to the Afro-Cuban religion Santería and explained how it has merged with the Catholic faith. Through various districts we went all the way to Chicharrones, the poorest and not exactly the safest district of the city. Fascinating to see people’s lives there and to get talking with some of them.
Sunset with a mojito
For sunset we went back to the centre and up to a roof terrace for the odd mojito. A rewarding, honest glimpse of life in Santiago – if you’d like to experience something like this too, I’ll gladly pass on Elliot’s contact details.
The cathedral with its two towers and the angel above the portal – the starting point for a day away from the tourist trail.Left, a steep lane down into town; right, a row of houses with balconies.A horse-drawn carriage with passengers turns the street corner.White hands making the victory sign on red bricks.Left, people walking down a lane; right, a Union Jack on a hatch in the ground.Peeling plaster, cables, light from ahead: a steep residential street in black and white.Twice over, a yellow classic car in pastel-coloured lanes.Pale blue, tail fins, lots of chrome: a classic car parked in the lane.Residents sit beside the steep street beneath a web of cables.Over the rooftops and a white church to the bay of Santiago de Cuba.Hand in hand up the street, a dog trotting alongside.Wooden shacks and narrow alleys, twice – a neighbourhood far from the centre.Pupils in uniform walking down the street, backpacks on.Left, neighbours with drinks at a street window; right, a small group at the crossroads.In the doorway of her house, one hand on the pink wall.An old photo of the balcony, packed with people – memories are kept here.Visiting a woman who grew up right next door to Fidel Castro – she still lives in the same house.A small shop with a chalkboard, customers inside and a cat dozing in the doorway.Left, a wall covered in photos; right, a hat hanging on a nail.Framed pictures and snapshots crowded together on the wall of a home.Left, a saint’s picture in a corner of the home; right, three pictures on a blue wall – Santería has merged with the Catholic faith.A painted portrait with a yellow halo on the blue wall.A metal rooster on a stand – a ritual object of Afro-Cuban Santería.Handwork, twice over: tobacco leaves rolled into cigars at the table.Cap, sunglasses, cigar – in front of a turquoise wall.Barefoot against the cracked wall, a smile beneath the moustache.Two young men in front of a wooden house, one in a Miami jersey.A beaten path between simple houses in Chicharrones, the poorest neighbourhood in the city.Corrugated-iron shacks on the hillside of Chicharrones, twice.A meadow with low houses, the mountains on the edge of town behind.Laundry on the line, a horse grazing next to it.A child asleep in a wooden cot under the mosquito net.Left, a washbasin; right, a pink wall clock – inside a wooden house in Chicharrones.Two women laughing on the concrete step outside their front door.Left, a turquoise wooden house; right, a corrugated-iron shack in Chicharrones.From the hillside the whole of Santiago de Cuba lies below us, down to the bay.Left, a child sitting on a beam; right, men bent over a game board.“Revolución es emanciparnos por nosotros mismos …” – a slogan on a red wooden wall, signed Fidel.Cigarette in hand, a piece of cardboard on his lap – outside the front door.In a headscarf, with a little girl on her lap, outside the front door.A collapsed wooden house behind a fence of corrugated iron.Pupils in uniform crowd around a vendor’s cart with sunshades.Left, a colonial facade; right, a weathered doorway with writing on the wall.A break on a bench in a small square, in black and white.“Revolución” in big letters on a rooftop above the city.Left, tower blocks at a crossroads; right, the legs of two pupils in uniform.Walking against the light down the busy street, portraits of the revolution on the facades.A colonial lane beneath a dense tangle of cables.From above: a crossroads with a yellow car and parked vehicles.Far below, a blue facade, a bus and a cyclist.The Cuban flag in the wind against a pale sky.At sunset on a rooftop terrace in the centre: the cathedral towers against the glowing bay.At night the wet paving of the square gleams under the lamps – the end of an honest day in Santiago.
