Cycling through the revolutionary landscape of Cuba

Locals pile into an old American car as the group cycles through a village in the Sierra Maestra mountains

Cuba is bigger than you think, only slightly smaller than England, with a population of 11.2 million. The entire trip would cover around 1,200 miles, of which we would cycle 400 miles, with the rest made up by transfers in our mini bus. For the entire fortnight we would have one bus following us, ready to assist with punctures or tired legs, while another bus (carrying our bags) would race on to the first checkpoint and the driver would start chopping up pineapple, papaya and guava for snacks. On the bus transfers our guide Lazaro De La Maza, a 30-year-old Cuban, talked proudly about the island and its history and answered our increasingly discourteous questions. How much is the average monthly wage? (10-20 CUCs about 6-12). How much do you get paid? (18 CUCs).

The biggest mental challenge was getting used to a communist country. The hotels are state owned. The restaurants are mostly state owned (although this is changing). The banks are state owned. We would pass something and I would ask Laz, is this owned by the government? He would nod wearily. Even Laz was an employee of the state. Although our group holiday was booked through Exodus, a UK-based travel company, on the ground it was run by Cubana, a state-owned travel company. Despite this Laz was startlingly honest, explaining the quirks and idiosyncrasies of his country. (Showing us his ID cards Cubans must carry three at all times we smirked at the picture of our normally Lycra-clad guide in a suit and tie. I dont actually own a suit, but they can Photoshop one on for you, he said. In a cafe in Havana, I saw a smartly dressed woman being asked for her ID by a policeman. When she didnt have it she was led away.)

I had been warned about the food. While the Cuban embassys website promised eating in Cuba is an exciting and rich experience, Laz was more realistic. Youre not here to have a gastronomic journey, he said. It was true that in lots of state-run restaurants the food was overcooked and there were limited choices (fish, chicken or pork with rice and beans). But it wasnt as bad as I had been told; in some of the new private restaurants it was outstanding.

Spending six hours a day on a bicycle, I found myself continually wondering about the system of government. Apart from the lack of creativity in the kitchen Cubans suffered from having no free press, no free elections and limited chance for self-improvement. But the island has a world-class health system life expectancy is high at 78 years; education, including university, is free; and no one is starving thanks to government rations of rice, sugar, salt and oil. I came home to stories of one million people accessing food banks in Britain over Christmas.

Outside the bigger towns we noticed fewer and fewer cars until all that was left were sun-baked farmers whipping their skinny carthorses; their carts were made up from different sized wheels and patched together with spare planks. The fields were full of sugar cane, thick and high, a reminder of Cubas agricultural history. We stopped for a break at an old plantation that had a monument to the former slaves outside the crumbling mansion.

It only struck me on that third day that there was no advertising anywhere. The billboards had party slogans or quotes from Fidel or Che. (At the top of one particularly punishing hill a sign saying, siempre se puede mas You can always do more was galling.) The graffiti, instead of being counter culture, was about the revolution: CUBA LIBRE, VIVA FIDEL.

The life of the peasant farmers was apparently what changed most after the revolution. Castros agrarian reform laws sought to break up large landholdings and redistribute the land to the peasants who worked it, co-operatives and the state. Farmers apply for a plot of land and are obliged to sell 80 per cent of coffee and cocoa back to the government at a set price. The rest, along with meat, eggs and fruit, they can sell for a profit.

Later in the trip we went on a walking tour in the middle of the Sierra Maestra mountain range to a hamlet of farms. Roberto, an 85-year-old farmer with milky eyes and a shuffle proudly showed us his home. The living area was decorated with tiny china ornaments, and behind a curtain were two double beds and a single. We sat at a table with a bleached white cloth while his wife made coffee on a stove. Ricardo, a local guide, told us that Castro had brought electricity and running water to these remote villages. Before the revolution people like this had no life, now they have a farm, freedom and can make a profit legally. People here have a better life than those in the city.

It depended, it seemed, on which city. From the Bay of Pigs we cycled on to Cienfuegos, the industrial capital of the island and a rich-looking town. Unlike Havana the huge colonial buildings gleamed with fresh paint. Why was there this difference? Because the people organise collective restoration projects. The residents have pride here, Laz said.

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Cycling through the revolutionary landscape of Cuba