We arrived in the rain, heaving our multiple bags into a cab whilst trying not to trip on the slippery pavement. Without any pre booked accomodation, we had picked the most promising sounding hostel on Lonely Planet and proceeded to flag a cab down to take us there.
Firstly, let me preface what I’m about to say by declaring that Handcarry Only was never meant to be a political blog, nor am I a particularly astute political pundit. Nevertheless, it is impossible to have visited Cuba and not have an opinion about the political system that pervades all aspects on life here, communism.
Beautiful as Trinidad is, it would be missing the point simply to visit and the see the ‘sights’, nothing in particular has been packaged as an attraction, not in the typical tourist sense of the word anyway. The true magic of the place is the atmosphere, the people, the laid-back lifestyle and the fantastically intriguing sample of humanity on offer.
The old cobbled street was proving a bit of a challenge in the dim light, the scattered street lamps casting strange shadows on the peeling colonial era buildings lining either side of the road. Our footsteps were unsure and the uneven ground, still slightly slick with the brief rain that had fallen in the evening, was slippery, hiding puddles of water in the darkness.
The sticky heat lingered in the afternoon air like a damp blanket, stifling and energy-sapping. It was midday, and the streets were quiet. The few people ambling about-children in the school uniforms, topless men with sun weathered skin hauling large sacks, all keeping close to the pastel coloured buildings, trying to stay within the thin sliver of shade provided by the low rise houses lining either side of the street…