US in Cuba
Vol.1, Issue 1 (Summer '13)
Adventures on the Hershey Train
Having a large portion of the day open for exploration, my fellow student Dot and I opted to venture across the harbor from Havana Vieja to Casa Blanca, leaving the luxurious Hotel Nacional full of tourists, including, it was rumored, some dignitaries and a U.S. film star, while still dark. The doormen incredulously caught us a cab as we explained we were headed to catch a “lanchita”, a small, humming ferry that would carry the two of us, and as we learned, a handful of local fishermen with makeshift gear, across the black water, to the station to ride what is known by Cubans as the “tren Hershey.” Originally built in 1917 to run workers through the land and now closed sugar factory owned by the chocolate magnate, the line features the only electric train running in Cuba. When we arrived at the small station, having now spent more than a week in Havana, we were not completely surprised to find only a friendly lone security guard and his dog. Informed that the train had left at 4:35 am, not 6:30 am, undeterred, we vowed to return mid-day, this time by cab, giving us the opportunity to view up close the large Christ statue, similar to the famed rendition in Rio, and see the beautiful glistening coast from atop the hill above the station.
Dot and I were thrilled to learn that the fare would be only 2.50 CUCs, the currency used by foreigners, to make the three and half hour trip to the port town of Mantanzas. When the slightly oxidized green–striped train consisting of two cabs pulled up, we found ourselves boarding the trolley-like rail car, unsure of what to expect. We were led to our seats by the friendly conductor who, greeting the passengers, danced and hummed, as he took up the tickets. Easy conversation was had, as we were asked where we were from. Using the Spanish that I knew, I explained we were student visitors from Alabama, always following our location of origin with a quick explanation in relation to Miami (pronounced “Me Am Ee” in Spanish), a collective reference point.
We giggled as we headed out, the car pleasantly rocking us side to side, with the strangely relaxing consistency of the “chunk-a- chunk-a” murmur of rail on track below. Although it was a warm and sunny day, the open windows allowed for a nice tropical breeze and an opportunity to photograph the incredible natural beauty of the island. Having grown up mainly in urban areas, it was a thrill to see endless undeveloped green space. Somewhat of a curiosity to the other travelers, Dot and I were the only non-Cuban passengers, with the exception of a brief visit from a South-African man accompanied by a guide. We excitedly exchanged proclamations of the beauty and richness we saw, snapping picture after picture of the countryside, shaped by verdant hills, coconut palms, and sugarcane. As we meandered through greenery, the brush so close in some places we could touch it, we eyed horse-drawn carts carrying tools, the occasional men working the land, fences of cacti, creeks, and many animals, such as horses, cows, egrets, and goats. Amidst the layers of sound from conversation, laughter, and a child playing next to us with a string dragging out the window, Dot practiced her emerging Spanish language skills as she pronounced the names of each tiny station, “Desquite”, “Las Sierra”, as we stopped to pick up new roadside passengers, or occasionally stopped en route to allow someone to run into a home and drop off or pick up some needed item.
We were even ushered from among the full train of local commuters we were meeting, to the front car and given a dreamlike opportunity to drive the entire train momentarily down the rural track. We were presented-and gratefully accepted-fresh manzano bananas, guayaba juice, and delicious ciruellas, green plums. The train workers Hugo, Juan and Yosbani, after stopping to buy us a shot of black sugared coffee from an open door along our walking tour of Matanzas, toasted with us to new friendships. We returned to our hotel that evening with presents of freshly picked sweet mango, and bouquets of sharp orange, and pink flowers, including my favorite bloom, the stunning flamboyant, tactile, olfactory, and visual reminders of our surreal excursion.
