The cab driver waved up at us from the busy Havana sidewalk and called out “¿Viñales?”
From our perch on the balcony of our casa particular overlooking La Fuente de India and El Capitolio, we called back “¡Si!”
He urged us to hurry down so we grabbed our bags and hastily descended the narrow, convoluted staircase to the ground floor. We jogged behind him, struggling to keep up with his brisk pace as we toted our luggage to the car.
He grabbed our bags and began strapping them on the car roof as we gave quick goodbye hugs to our travel companions; they wouldn’t be joining us for this leg of the trip.
To Viñales
He motioned us towards the front seat of our taxi, a 1954 Ford Country Sedan station wagon. I slid into the center and my dear man took the passenger side. We said a quick hello to the two Finnish passengers in the back seat. Then the driver was off, navigating the cluttered, narrow streets of Havana in the huge station wagon. He deftly skirted the bicyclists, pedestrians, motorcycles, potholes, trucks, and everything else imaginable that are typical in the city.
We made two more stops to pick up passengers before exiting the urban bustle. Eventually nine of us, including the driver, were pressed bum-to-bum for the 2-1/2 hour drive into the Cuban countryside. It didn’t take long to accept we’d be nestled together for the duration, our legs sweating against complete strangers.
Setting aside our American sensibilities about personal space and auto safety, we embraced the journey. No seatbelts in this old car. And slaloming at high speeds along the highway around everything from tour busses and farm tractors to oxcarts and bicycles is perfectly normal.
Before we left that morning we knew we’d be in a group taxi. We just didn’t know exactly what that meant. Our Cuban host had arranged it for us. All we knew is that we’d get to Viñales.
So we bombed along in the vintage car, our heads waggling like bobble-head dolls as we bounced our way towards tobacco country.
Back in the saddle
We wanted to visit a tobacco plantation while in Viñales. And we thought maybe we’d like to take a horseback ride through the nearby national park at some point as well. Through my middling Spanish, we put together that our gracious host would arrange it for us. We would leave at nine o’clock the next morning.
The horse-drawn cab arrived promptly and we climbed aboard. We took our spots on the wooden bench and quickly learned that keeping our bodies loose and relaxed to absorb the jolts and bumps was the way to go.
The cart stopped in front of a house and a sturdy, older cowboy walked out leading three horses. My dear man and I looked at each other in surprise. We didn’t realize we’d be riding horses today. I was suddenly very glad I wore pants and boots that day instead of shorts and sandals!
My camera gear required adjustment, though. I haven’t been on a horse in more than 20 years but I knew my dual-camera system wasn’t going to hack it in the saddle. I quickly rearranged my camera body and lens setup for this unexpected adventure.
Riding in a horse-drawn cab in Viñales. 
Riding into the Parque de Viñales. 
Horse cab ride in Viñales.
All-in-one adventure
Our guide introduced us to our mounts—Tornado and Inferno. We laughed at the joke. Trail horses aren’t prone to such dynamic tendencies but we could tell our guide’s sense of humor would make for a fun day.
And we set off, having no idea where we were going or how long the trip would be. All we knew is that we’ll be exploring the Parque de Viñales.
“¡Cabaaaalloooooo!” our guide called out melodically throughout the ride. I can still hear his voice urging the horses on when they slowed their pace.
It turns out our hosts set us up for a full experience that day. The horseback ride included stops at various coffee and tobacco plantations as well as little open-air cafes with spectacular views. We strolled through farmland and quiet riverbeds.
Our charming guide was patient with my broken Spanish as he explained some of what we were seeing. We talked about life, families, and the differences between Cuba and our home in Nevada. He wanted to know as much about our world as we wanted to know about his.
Our last stop of the day was at an organic tobacco farm in the park. With our cigars unfinished when it was time to leave the plantation, we mounted our horses and continued on our way—smoking cigars on horseback in the Valle de Viñales of Cuba, talking with our new friend as we rode back towards town.
Riding in the Parque de Viñales. 
The view over the valley. 
Farmer tending tobacco plants. 
Vulture soaring over the valley below. 
Our guide and his buddies. 
Riders in the Valle de Silencio. 
Lush forests of Parque de Viñales. 
Farm bull hanging out. 
Bundle of cigars at tobacco farm.
Breaking Routine
At a tiny little cafe on a side street in Viñales, we sat with our Cuban coffees, watching people go by. The tourists had yet to fill the streets so we watched as the locals began their days. Just Cuban people living their lives
— walking to school and work, pushing wheelbarrows, hauling loads in ox-drawn carts. We sat peacefully, enjoying the sounds and sights of a place entirely new to us.
Quite poetically, our cafe was named “Rompiendo Rutina,” Breaking Routine.
Cuba proved to be a very different style of travel for us. Even as open as we are to new experiences and adventures, we are typically far more in control of when, where, and how we go about our travel. We make our own arrangements, choices, and schedules.
In Cuba, we had to embrace simply being a part of the rhythm of how things are done there. That meant trusting our hosts, complete strangers, to take care of us. By embracing the uncertainties instead of resisting them, we ended up with one of the most extraordinary travel experiences we’ve ever had.
Sometimes making that leap means accepting some discomfort, inconvenience, or unknown outcomes. But rich travel isn’t about everything being luxurious, perfect, and predictable. I suppose that’s the difference between a vacation and an adventure.
And travel in Cuba is as rich as it gets if you’re willing to surrender to adventure.
Adventure on, friends!
As always, prints and products of Cuba (and more!) are available in my Zenfolio and Society6 online stores.
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