Close, but one cigar

A hard day's drive took us from the southern coast in the middle, past Havana and further west, into the rural province of Viñales, and the town with the same name. The landscape is quite spectacular; the slightly hilly base comes richly served with sprinkles of mogotes, high-rising steep rocks of tougher material than the sandstone that has eroded down to the flattish surface below.
A great way of taking in the scenery is from the back of a horse. As every one else opted for the walking tour, I had more or less a private tour of the region. I say more or less, because occasionally my calm, but strong and fast, ride Paloma would catch up with other bands of horses wearing tourists.
Not only did I get a scenic ride through the fields and forests of Viñales, but I made some interesting stops as well. A tobacco farmer showed me how it's done, and I even tried a few puffs. At the coffee and guava plantation I got a taste of the local rum, flavoured with guava, and in one of the many limestone caves I got to practice my pareidolia, spotting gorillas, dinosaurs, elephant trunks and Fidel's nose among the stalactites and stalagmites.
The caving wasn't over for the day, though. Cueva Indios is supposed to be a cave system once populated by the indigenous people of the area, but that might just be a selling point or a trick, as no bones or cave paintings have been found. It's still an impressive cave, and you get to take a boat ride on the underground river.
No visit to the countryside is complete without a drop-in at a local farm. This one was totally organic (or, to put it correctly, ecological. All food is organic, no matter how much additives, fertiliser or pesticides you put in the process. It's just that the English speakers of the world don't seem comprehend and thus say 'organic' when they really mean 'ecological'). Every thing put on the table was locally grown, except for the snapper and the various sodas for the cocktails. Incidentally, those were probably the best parts of the generous, and absolutely delicious buffet served. Definitely the snapper, at least.
The happeningest place for locals and visitors alike to go to for a Friday of fun in Viñales would be the local dance park. A live band performed on stage, and occasionally the dance floor would be emptied in favour of a dance troupe showing their skills in elaborate, samba-esque costumes.
The place ran out of beer pretty much from the get-go, and the combo of too much salsa and too little beer made the decision for me, and I sauntered on for a quiet beer and a book at the casa. Before Cuba, I had no opinion on salsa one way or the other. I've since grown weary of the dance, I find the music boring and repetitive (and often littered with rapping and/or auto-tuning which is sure-fire way of destroying otherwise acceptable music), but I still love the sauce. And I'll have plenty of that at my next destination.
But first, the rest of Havana. Though most of the city puts pedestrians second or third (walkways wide enough for almost 1 person, cracked and littered with rubbish, garbage and dogs' leftovers, streets filled with cars from way way before any efficient exhaust cleaning was devised), Habana Vieja is all sorts of cosy. Our local guide and tour leader appeared upon his name being called three times (this happened frequently throughout the tour, thus earning him the epithet of Beetlejuice), and we took a city walk. Some I had already seen, some I hadn't, all was with a new insight. Amongst the sights tried and seen were La Bodeguita del Medio and La Floridita, made famous by Hemingway for its mojitos and daiquiris, respectively. I tried the mojito, but not the daiquiri.Guided walking tours are almost always essential for getting to know a city, and this one was no exception.
Part of Havana's charm (and of its obvious pollution problem) and certainly one of the most iconic aspects of the the city, and indeed Cuba as a whole, is the brightly coloured old classic cars. As is a must, we took a ride in the pinks and purples, checking out the vast emptiness of Plaza de la Revolución, the forest of Havana, and ending up at the classic Hotel Nacional for a drink and an ocean view.
But one thing remained on the bucket list: In addition to a visit to Che's memorial, tasting cigars at the tobacco farm, riding in classic cars and tasting all kinds of rum, no visit to Cuba is complete without going to a Buena Vista Social Club.
So there we were, on our last day together, listening to skillful musicians (due to a lifetime of experience, supposedly, as most of the performers were quite old). The part where they asked the audience where they were from and then immediately performed a song- and/or dance number accordingly (for instance doing a river dance upon finding out some in the audience were from Ireland) was good fun. 
All good things must come to an end, and after visiting the rum museum (interesting, knowledgeable guide) and the cigar factory (unnecessary, if you have been to an actual tobacco farm, but still worth it, seeing all the rollers sitting at their desks as in stuck in the 60's) Morro Castle (quite a hike if you go by the 2 cuc boat rather than the 20 cuc cab), Museo de la Revoluciõn (educational, though a teeny weeny bit biased) and the surprise of the day: Calleiun de Hamel (an art community which had all flavours of contemporary art, most of which was made from recycled materials) the Cuban section of the odyssey was over.