Meeting the different (or crabby)

Most people who visit Cuba come either on palm-fringed, white-sand, turquoise-sea, all-inclusive packages or on see-the-crumbling-Spanish-architecture-and-meet-some-Cubans tours. Actually, it’s easier than in many other places I’ve been just to arrive and sort it out as you go, and since neither of us is very good at being told what to do, that’s what we’ve done. But some things aren’t possible without a tour agency and as one of my Cuba ambitions was to see some coral we went to one to book a boat trip to a coral wall near a small island off the Cuban coast.
 
The tour came with certain things I wouldn’t have chosen, like being collected from our accommodation by a shiny red and cream and chrome vintage American car. I know. I’m supposed to be interested in these astonishingly well-maintained bits of history but, meh, car. Sorry. Anyway, we drove on cream leather seats to the coast. And there, as our fellow tourists (second thing I wouldn’t have chosen) assembled, we watched unfeasible quantities of drink being loaded onto a catamaran at the next jetty: unlimited ‘free’ (included in the price) alcohol for our trip. Third thing I wouldn’t have chosen.
 
We were briefed. The catamaran would drop the snorkellers off at the reef then deliver the people who just wanted to go to the island, then come back for the snorkellers after about 45 minutes. I was a little concerned that there wouldn’t be a boat nearby in case a swimmer needed help but… stop it – you’re on holiday.
 
We boarded and almost everyone started downing alcohol like they’d never, ever heard of hangovers. Once land appeared ahead, after an hour or so, the catamaran kept changing direction so it was hard to tell whether we were headed to the island or to the choppier waters some distance away that we assumed were the reef. The reef, the island, the reef, the island…
 
When I saw how far apart they were I became more concerned about the safety of unsupervised drunken snorkellers. Maybe I’d misunderstood and we were going to the island first and the boat would stay with us. I must have misunderstood – we were definitely heading to the island. Then an announcement: it was too rough to go to the reef and we'd be snorkelling just off the beach at the island.
 
Gutted. I hadn’t seen any change in the sea or the weather. Had they not known this before we set off? Could they not have given us the chance to bail out and do something else? They summoned us to get the snorkelling equipment. Shock again. They had very few sizes of flippers and many were torn. They seemed completely unconcerned that people didn't have equipment to fit. And, it turned out as we swilled uselessly in coral-free water-weed, most of the masks leaked.
 
I saw no point in complaining to the crew (save that for the tour agency) even when the promised gourmet lunch turned out to be an unappetising paella or, for vegetarians, plain rice with potato, tomato and raw cabbage. (Perhaps they assumed that given all the alcohol no-one would notice the food?)
 
Stay positive, stay positive… I asked where on the island we could see the promised iguanas and was beckoned around the veranda surrounding the stone (actually dead coral) kitchen. Right there, behind the kitchen, scraps of thrown paella had attracted two iguanas and a mass of hermit crabs (extra). I stood on the veranda and watched as crabs climbed over each other to get at the rice, squared up to the iguanas, backed off, approached again. Finally, something worth seeing!
 
Also, I admit, worth seeing was a Cuban version of customer service. At a private table on the veranda behind the kitchen were the two women who had earlier complained, being plied with rum and the avid attention of the boat crew. Very impressive. Much more effective than ‘for customer service press 3’. It continued all the way back on the boat as the music was turned up and the women shimmied in competition for the most handsome sailor.
 
We made up for the disappointments of the day by going to Trinidad’s Casa Musica: wide, shallow steps with musicians on a stage on one side, cafes on the other, and tables between. A warm evening, good music. Yes!