1000 WORDS

Since I have been off my bike for a while, I decide, before setting off around the island, to warm up by taking a quick spin around Casablanca and Cojimar, suburbs of Havana which lies across the harbour from the old city. A short ferry ride deposits me on the opposite shore where I am greeted by a giant statue of Jesus standing on the hill above me.

Jesus stands on the hill, framed by urban paraphernalia.

I climb the hill where I stand at Jesus’ feet to admire the view.

Standing at Jesus' feet affords a great view of Havana across the water.

Passing through Casablanca, I cross the freeway and explore an enormous sports stadium. This edifice is quite recent, built to host the 1991 Pan American Game, but it doesn’t appear to have had an additional coat of paint since and so it has a faded, dilapidated, abandoned air.

An impressive sports stadium, in shades of Caribbean blue, built to host the 1991 Pan American Games.

However I climb a tower next to the stadium and my bird’s eye perspective reveals athletes training on a well maintained track.

A runner on the track - I like its delicate shades of blue which complement the exterior paintwork.

I also get a nice aerial view of a huge fountain and sculpture complex in the form of a giant five pointed star in front of the stadium and climb down the rusty rickety ladder of my tower to get a closer look.

The glory of sport is celebrated by a series of statues gracing the extensive grounds outside the stadium. Baseball is Cuba's national passion.

The statues surround an enormous fountain in the form of a five pointed star that has been dry long enough to grow an impressive crop of weeds in its empty pools which a team of people seem helpless to keep under control. The runners lend one of the gardeners a helping hand by holding his bag for him while he works.

Cycling on into the suburb of Cojimar, I come across urban ‘farms’ which give the place a laid-back rural feel.

Cojimar's urban farms...

... and rustic transport give this suburb of Havana a distinctly rural feel.

When I return to the coast, I pass the place where Ernest Hemmingway used to moor his boat. The local fishermen, apparently, chipped in and had this memorial built to honour him.

A memorial to Ernest Hemmingway offers a small patch of shade to a group of locals waiting for the arrival of the next tour bus. At its appearance they all leap up to play some cool Cuban tunes.

Cuba’s African heritage is clear in the widely visible practice of Santeria, a syncretic religion found in various forms, and known by different names, in many places that are populated by ex-slave communities of West African origin. I pass a group of women, dressed in blue and white, performing a ceremony by the sea. The ocean is home of Iemanya, one of the most important Santeria deities. She is mother of all and queen of the seven seas.

I throw a white flower, fortuitously given to me by the gardener at the stadium, into the sea for Iemanya, who I am familiar with from my time living in Brazil. Iemanya is particularly partial to white flowers.

Some woman perform a Santeria ceremony by the sea - a petition of some sort, probably, to Iemanya, the goddess of the sea.

Further along the coast, as I circle back towards Havana, I come across an extensive housing project overlooking the ocean.

These public housing apartment blocks are sited on prime coastal real estate and enjoy splendid ocean views.

Finally, I follow an unpaved path along a short stretch of undeveloped coast towards Castillo de Tres Santos Reyes de Morro, the first of two forts on the cliffs at the entrance to Havana’s harbour.

The view out to sea from Castillo de Morro, on the cliffs of Casablanca.

The view from the fort across the bay to Havana.

A second fort, Fortaleza de San Carlos de la Cabaña, sits a little further along the cliffs.  Both forts house museums, which I decline to enter. However, as I ride back down the hill, past Jesus, on my way to the ferry terminal, I pass a huge metal gate propped open by a large wooden beam and on impulse wander inside to explore.

Fortaleza de San Carlos de la Cabaña was built in the late 1700s following a successful attack by the British on El Morro. La Cabaña was the biggest colonial military installation of its day. A cannon which used to signal the closing of the city for the night is still fired from its walls at nine o'clock each evening.

I find myself traversing the dry moat at the foot of the fortified walls and discover that they are adorned with various cryptic marks and sketches which, I assume, are evidence of, or refer to, the various historic conflicts that the fort has withstood.

Bullet holes and cryptic sketches.

I wish I knew what these images referred to...

...and who created them.

After spending a peaceful hour or so exploring this forgotten zone at the foot of the fort, I get back on my bike and catch a ferry, returning across the bay to bustling Havana.

It is here, boarding the ferry, that I make my first currency mistake. Fishing in my tiny uncompartmentalised purse for the 2 CUP fare I drag out two likely looking notes and hand them to the impatient official. These notes disappear into his pocket with such lightning speed that my suspicions are instantly aroused but it is not until I am swept onto the ferry amongst the sea of passengers that I can confirm that I have just handed the man 2 CUC rather than 2 CUP and it is too late by then to do anything about it.

In the grand scheme of things it is not such a huge loss for me, and the incident probably made the man’s day, so I find it relatively easy to be philosophical about it but I make a mental note to do a better job of separating my two money stashes in the future.

Returning across the bay to Havana with afternoon showers threatening. Brooding cloud formations are a feature of my visit to Cuba.