Article published on 16/08/2025
The mogotes of Viñales are peculiar hills shaped like pin cushions that resemble the limestone hills of Guilin in southern China. On horseback, we reach the house of a campesino who grows tobacco. It's said that Cuban tobacco is the best in the world, and that from this province is the best in Cuba. While his wife peels fruit, we watch the making of a handcrafted cigar. Some leaves rolled up with newspaper, and as an outer wrapper, a leaf of different quality than the rest. The mouth end is sealed by dipping a fingertip in honey.
The Gran Caverna de Santo Tomás is the largest cave system in Cuba. Of the 47 kilometers of galleries spread over eight levels, only one kilometer—42 meters underground—is open to the public, and the visit lasts an hour and a half. But we are not the public… we are friends with a manager who lives and works there, so around midnight we put on the required helmets and set off for a new adventure. The entrance is easy—only the entrance. It involves climbing walls, descending steep cliffs, crawling through tiny tunnels, and suddenly emerging into spaces that would trigger agoraphobia, where the processes of nature take millions of years to form. The humidity is high and the air is saturated, but it all makes sense when you're standing in front of rock formations that sparkle like stars in the sky. The Salón del Caos is a demanding path. Between a passage that looks right and an impossibly narrow hole, sometimes you have to choose the latter. Surely, without the expert guidance of our experienced friends, we'd still be in there. Around three in the morning, climbing out through another passage, we finally emerge and stop to rest. But we're not on solid ground yet. To earn our well-deserved rest, we still have to descend a steep slope through thick forest.
The Casa del Campesino, where the Commander in Chief stayed in '59 when he began to implement the agrarian reform. The first thing we do is lie down on the bed where Castro slept. The photos inside the hut document the illustrious visit. There's the host with other friends and Fidel, another shows Fidel on the riverbank in front of the cave where we'll swim, and yet another shows Geraldine. Yes, her… Charlie Chaplin's daughter! In front of the house is the river, which winds through caves and meanders. Naturally, we dive in. The riverbed is sandy, and you have to be careful with sharp rocks, especially as you go deeper into the caves, where visibility gradually decreases until it's zero.
Cayo Jutías. We rent a boat with a captain to do a bit of diving. A large sign with Che's image greets us as we pass through Minas de Matahambre. The sea is not exactly calm, and the water sprays our faces as we steer the bow toward an uninhabited islet ahead. The captain asks me, "Italy, do you want to fish?" I answer, "No, Cuba… I prefer to watch the fish swim!" But then he asks again. And I agree. We pull up three big fish. We land on the islet and explore it, while the captain scales our catch. On the sand, adrift, lie shells and mollusks of all kinds. It looks like a market of human-made artifacts, but it's all free and crafted by nature. Sun-dried coconuts are home to hermit crabs, and trees felled by hurricanes lie dead in the crystal-clear water. A marvel. We get back on the boat and head to the chosen diving spot, among colorful fish and dark corals. The sky is clouding over and evening approaches. The vicious mosquito attack begins, their bites causing an itch that will follow us back to Italy and stay with us for days to come.
It's evening at the El Moncada speleology school. We meet more new friends, including a couple of Italian speleologists who will dine with us. His name is Roberto and he is a professional photographer. The conversation becomes immediately interesting, but reaches a sublime level when he tells me he had dinner several times with Alberto Korda, the man who took the photo of the Guerrillero Heroico, which would later become the most reproduced image in the world. That brief and intense encounter is just one of those fortunate moments that are never forgotten. Distinct personalities with noble souls, the kind you can only meet when you stick your nose out of your little home and your silly certainties.
But what truly made us happy was that we gave our money, without a second thought, into the hands of what, among countless other things, makes this place truly unique: the Cuban people. As a torrential downpour begins, we head back. A plane takes us home, while the rain keeps falling heavily, both outside and within us. Maybe it's Cuba crying because we're leaving. And we like to believe that's true. We'll often think of the distant island and the Cuban tale. Its inscrutable destiny will never leave us indifferent.
Back in Italy, the world's news announced that El Líder Máximo Fidel Castro was handing over the leadership of the country to his brother Raúl.
