The Police Released Us ...

We leave Trinidad in the morning and go to the nearby beach for an hour, then start the drive back to the capital. We know the way, and I'm frequently going the maximum speed that the vehicle will travel, so we make it in pretty good time. After leaving our things at the casa particular, we go for dinner to one of the nicer hotels on the main capital square, the NH hotel. The restaurant is Mediterranean, the decor is very Mediterranean, the food is passably so, and the two guys playing Spanish classical guitar play "Ragtime", then "Hello Dolly", then some Spanish classical guitar music, before settling into vaguely Italian-sounding restaurant music.

We decide to go to La Casa de Musica in Mirimar, since we have heard that it's better than the one in the old town. It's in a less touristy area, so maybe it will have more locals. On the way there, in our confusion trying to figure out where it is, we had an encounter. I was trying to turn left, but decided I needed to turn right and come around the block. As I turn right I notice a man in uniform walking towards me, pointing at me, and pointing for me to pull to the side of the street.

Now, I have several thoughts in those few seconds: He's on foot. If I just keep driving, what will he do? He can't catch me, and I can't see them putting out a call for my license plate number. But I do pull over and roll the window down.

I tell Tiina to pretend like she doesn't speak Spanish. It's to our advantage to be able to play dumb if we choose, and I might want to pretend like I can't understand him.

He asks in Spanish for my identification. It's then I realize: I decided to leave my passport in the hotel room. We are going dancing. I was tired of carrying around a money belt. I didn't want a money belt to interfere with my dancing. In the money belt was my passport and identification. I'm stopped by the police in this island, and I have no identification, no passport, no driver's license.

I apologize to him and explain that I forgot my ID at my hotel, and hand him the rental car agreement. He explains what I did wrong, and says something about 50 pesos (convertible) for making an illegal turn, plus 30 more for not having my identification. I'm pretty sure I only have about 40 or 50 convertible pesos on me, and it's too late to get any more this evening. I pretend like I don't understand, and apologize for forgetting my ID, and ask questions repeatedly. He says to wait a minute and then walks back away from the car so he can call someone on the radio without me hearing.

While we're sitting in car and he's not looking I take out the money we have. I keep 10 pesos and $60 US from the reserve stash, and I give the rest of the money discreetly to Tiina and tell her to hid it.

He's taking a while, and I'm not sure why. So I get out of the car and go back to talk to him. I ask if it's possible for me to pay the fine here and explain that I only have 10 pesos, plus some US currency. He says the fine is 50 pesos, but says I can't pay the fine now, explains my crimes to me again, and then tries to tell me something I can't figure out. I'm a little confused, because a few minutes ago the fine was 50 + 30 = 80, while now he's only saying 50, but I figure it's better not to ask. Then he tells me I need to wait longer. He doesn't seem particularly agressive or mean, but I can't quite figure out what he wants or what I should do.

After he tries to explain things several times that I still can't understand, I move back towards the car with him. I'm not faking it, I really can't understand what he's trying to explain. He asks if Tiina speaks Spanish, and she says "a little". He repeats himself again, Tiina asks one or two simple questions (so as not to seem like she speaks fluent Spanish), then we still play dumb. He tells us to wait a few more minutes then walks back behind the car again. I ask Tiina "What did he say?" He said that I had "illegally" moved from the left lane to the right lane to make a right turn, and that I didn't have my identification, and since I didn't have my identification they were going to have to take me to "the unit". "The unit?" The police station, as best we can guess.

Now, I know he just wants his money, but he keeps saying No to that. It doesn't appear that he's trying to get more money or any other issue, he just keeps saying "No", as in "That's not proper", you have to wait. Can I go back to my hotel to get my passport or to get more US currency? No, I have to wait.

We wait a few more minutes, and then a police car with three guys pulls up behind us. Two guys casually get out. No one is in a hurry here, no one is acting tough. Even this is done on island time, in an island way. One of the newly-arrived police men acts like he might be their boss, and he speaks a little English. He asks my my name and where I'm from. Between his limited English and my limited Spanish, he explains to me that because I don't have my identification they have to take me to "the unit", where they will put handcuffs on me, and I will have to stay the night there, and then in the morning they will make me leave the country on an airplane, and I will never be able to return. He stresses that last part, as if that is the most severe part of the punishment: I will never be able to return to the Island.

He's very calm and even nice about how he's explaining it. I'm pretty sure he's trying to threaten me or scare me, but there is nothing threatening about how he's talking or his manner. He had the same tone and manner as if I had walked up to him on the street and asked for his help.

I say it's OK if they put handcuffs on, and it's OK if they make me leave tomorrow because I have a flight out tomorrow anyway. I would just need to get my passport and things from my hotel before I leave tomorrow. We really want to go salsa dancing tonight, so can we go dancing and then I'll go to "the unit"? He seems confused by my willingness to be arrested and to spend the night in jail, as long as I get to go dancing.

I explain that I only have 10 pesos convertible, because the money changer isn't open this late, but I have some US currency with me also, and I could convert more dollars to pesos tomorrow. They say No, I can't do that, but then ask me again how much I have on me in pesos. I answer again that I have only 10 pesos convertible, plus 40 or 50 US, plus some local national money. He says something about how he's going to try to help me, and writes the number "30" on his hand. I explain again that I only have 10 pesos, but ask if I can give him some US currency too. He says for me to walk over with him to their car, and he'll help me there. I say OK, I just want to tell mi amiga that I'm going to go over to their car. It's OK for her to wait in our car. He's fine with that, so I tell Tiina, then walk with them to their car.

I apologize again, and take out the 10 pesos and $40 US. He originally had asked for 80, then 50 pesos, and the value of what I offer him now is about 40 pesos. I'm pretty sure I could get them to accept just the 10 pesos and let me leave, but that may take a while and I want to get dancing. I offer him a wad of pesos national that I have in my pocket, that are probably worth maybe another $5 or $10 US. He looks at it and just waves his hand No, as if it's not worth his trouble. This confuses me still, about why specifically he didn't want local money. Maybe he can get all he reasonably needs of that by hussling locals, and he was only interested in convertible money? Or he just thinks it's beneath his dignity to accept local currency as part of a bribe?

He hands me back the registration for the car. I shake his hand and say thanks and Adios, then get back in the car and drive away. I thought about asking him to let me take a picture with him, but decide that would be rude.

We're on our way again but still don't know how to get there. We stop and ask a woman for directions. She trying to get to the same place, but she doesn't know the way. She's from a different part of the island. Would she like a ride? OK, she says.

On our way in I pay the cover for Tiina and myself. She asks if we can pay her cover, and she'll pay us back when she gets change later. Huh? I might be willing, but the cops took some of our cash, I don't have enough left. She says she meet us in there, but we don't see her again, other than in this picture.

An hour or more passes with bad music, not dance music. Tiina notices someone at a table near us and says "Is that Gerard Depardieu?" No, of course not. But then I look carefully: It might be. He certainly looks and moves like him.

Ten minutes later some people go up to talk to him. I can't hear the conversation over the bad music, but it's clear they're asking him for his autograph, and then they take a picture with him. Then someone else does. A few minutes later he leaves with his two friends.

That must suck. He's not even in the top list of actors, but he can't even go to watch unpleasant music in a low-tourism Caribbean island without being bothered.

Many girls are standing up in the club instead of sitting down that are dressed, well, like hookers. We trying to figure out the system, so I talk to a few of them. They haven't paid the cover, they're trying to get guys to buy them drinks, to pay their cover, and maybe "something else." They must have some agreement with the club, that they get in provisionally, but they can't take a seat at a table unless some guy pays their cover. Maybe that is what the girl that we gave a ride was trying for? But she is from out of town, so she isn't "known" at the club to get in without paying cover. She didn't look like a hooker, but maybe I'm wrong.

The Quest

Trinidad is a charming colonial town. We had arranged for a room in a casa particular, which was about 10 short blocks from the town square. We arrived there in time to find the casa before dinner, and after dinner we took a short nap. Then we walked back to the town square, which they called "Casa de Musica". At first they were playing vague salsa music from disc and people were dancing, and we did too. Later they had a live band playing salsa and we danced. When the band stopped they started playing salsa from disc again. Most people were tourists, about 2/3rds, but locals were dancing also, some with each other and some with tourists.

I saw one guy dressed in all white dancing with two girls at once, and doing it well. Later, after we were tired and most people were done dancing, I went up to him and asked "hay algo personas aqui que bailar rueda?" (Are there any people here who dance rueda?).

This had been our major Quest for this trip. We had many minor quests: renting a moto (Yes), renting a motorcycle with sidecar (failed), eating the local food (Yes), talking with locals (Yes). But the major Quest for this trip was to find local salsa, and engage with locals in a salsa rueda.

To my query about rueda He said yes, but seemed a little confused by the question. The girl next to him said (I think) that I was asking if we could do a rueda. I said that my girlfriend and I liked to dance rueda, and he seemed surprised that we knew how. The girl got one other couple, and the six of us started dancing rueda. At first it was very simple, just dame and enchufa. Two other couples saw us dancing rueda and eagerly joined in, although one girl bowed out because she was tired.

Here is a video of the guy dancing with two girls at once. Try it: It's surprisingly hard!


(The rest of this journal entry is primarily only for people who dance salsa rueda. You probably won't understand what I'm saying unless you do. If you don't understand, then you need to learn to dance salsa rueda and then re-read this post.)

The guy in all white, who was from Trinidad I think, danced very well but had his own way to do all the moves. Or maybe those were the way they did it in Trinidad? One move was called vecino ("neighbor"?) which was patty-cake to the beat, alternating with the person on your right and the person on your left. He also called things repeatedly so you could hear better: "ahora-ahora-ahora! dame-dame-dame!". Also "uno con uno" (single dame with single clap), "dos con dos" (dame dos with two claps).

The Trinidaderos did pelota as a right-handed enchufa. They did setenta as a setenta miami with a enchufa-ronde-dame.

A couple from Vancouver that joined in danced things similar to us. (They are the tall couple on the right in the picture.)

A guy from Marseilles, France had joined, he wanted to dance everything on-two, which created difficulties. (He's the guy in red, on the back towards the left.) Tiina talked to him later. He said he's come to the Island many times for dancing, and Trinidad has the best salsa on the island.

A girl from Guadalupe island in the Caribbean joined too, she seemed to do it more our style. (She's the girl in the black shirt & jeans.)

There were relatively few moves that everyone knew, even the people from Trinidad. They didn't know Candado (people from Vancouver did), nor adios con su hermana.

The girl in the red dress was also from Trinidad. She was the one who gathered the six people to start the rueda, and was good at trying to get everyone from different backgrounds to work together.

On the Road to Trinidad

On Thursday we return the moto & rent a car and start driving towards Trinidad, a city about 6 hours away. We get on the autopista, the main highway, but after a few miles the road becomes more of a wide, paved road, without lane markings. Then it hits another similar looking road and ends. Then that road seems to peter out into a regular road, then we go through a few more towns, and pretty soon we are completely lost. There are no road signs on any of the roads or intersections, nor any real signs that tell you the names of the towns or anything. I'm pretty sure we took some wrong turn earlier on, but I'm not sure which was the turn where we made a mistake, nor how to get back to it. We stop in some town at a gas station and Tiina asks directions, with the map. The guy laughs and says, "A map? That won't help you." Well, we couldn't find any road signs. "Road Signs? They won't help you either. Just head down this road until you go under a bridge, and then the road splits stay left, and then about 20 kilometers later you'll hit another bridge and turn onto that road."

We hit a split in the road before we come to any bridge, so we stay left, but then we go more than 20 km without hitting any other bridge.

I've sometimes brought a compass along on trips, especially camping trips, but I've never found one actually useful. Here, though it would have useful. If we had a compass we could stay generally southward and eastward and head in the right direction. I take out my cell phone and turn on the GPS. It can't get a signal, and it can't show me any map of where we are, but it can, using GPS, function as a compass. I have a $400 cellular phone, which can't make or receive calls here, receiving signals from a network of satellites in space, all to function as a basic compass.

We saw guards by sentry towers and realized we were driving by a prison, so we double back and took some photos. The guards eye as warily and we make sure they can't see us taking pictures. This turnaround was convenient because we stopped at one of the few convenience store fronts, basically a house with a counter at the front, that sold few and varied wares and asked for directions. Turns out our bearings after taking several random turns were correct -- we were told to go back the same direction we were originally headed and that the small road would join the main highway in approximately 3 kilometers.

We found the main highway, still unmarked, but noticeably bigger and somewhat better paved than the other roads! And the GPS device confirms that we are now traveling in the right direction - southeast. Not long afterwards, we pass the first actual dot on the map, another sign
Trinidad is only 340 km away, and even find a small fast food eating place called a palmar. We have grilled ham and cheese sandwiches and freshly made potato chips. The service is and friendly, and clearly everyone is driving through, and not a local to that part of town, except maybe a few guys who came to use the phone there.

We pass through several small towns. There are as many horse-drawn carriages here as there are cars.

At one intersection about an hour from Trinidad we stop to pick up two hitchhikers, a mother and daughter. The daughter is in high school, about 18, and the mother has a job in the same town where the daughter goes to school. With them in the car we're able to avoid several wrong turns and save some time. We get to their house, about 30 minutes from Trinidad, and give the a ride about a mile off the main road to their house. The mother invites us in to meet her parents who live in the house with them, and for coffee. They have an all white cat with one green eye and one blue. There is no reference to the father of the daughter and no picture of him. From the way the mother refers to the older man & woman, Tiina thinks the man is her step-father, not her father. We notice this with several people we meet, a lack of reference to fathers or the "standard" nuclear families.

The Capital

We take the taxi to the casa particular. Here, a "particular house" means a house that has rooms for rent, similar to a bed-and-breakfast in the states. They are authorized by the government, and are usually in older colonial-style houses.

The first few days we see the usual tourist stuff: nice architecture, churches, plazas where people congregate. It is nice to be able to walk around a city. America has almost no cities where you can walk around, and the few that we have (New York, San Francisco) have a very different feel than walking areas in Europe, Asia or other parts of the Americas.

After a few days we rent a motor scooter (here called a moto) and ride that around the city. Much more fun! A moto is the best way to get around this city if you have a nice girlfriend. At night we try to find salsa dancing. We go to several places that have music, shows & dancing, but they are rather disappointing.

One day on the moto we purposefully eat from a street vendor, where locals would eat. Tiina writes:
"During lunch I talked to some locals who appeared to be interested in conversation. I asked what tended to be the preferred pets in Cuba, this after he showed us two live rabbits sitting docilely in a bag and which he indicated would soon be someone's dinner once he sold them. He replied that most pets in Havana are dogs and cats, but that his favorite was a pig because they are smart and cute, and that best of all, once it was fat enough you could eat it!

Eat it, I replied, you can't eat your pets. Sure you can he said. Not a long time ago we would eat dogs if we had to. The street dog begging for scraps near us smiled at him."

During the tip a question came up: What is the best known brand name in the world? Is it "The United States"? I used to say Coca Cola, but certainly anywhere where someone has had a coke, they would have heard of the United States. For if they had never had a Coke before, and they had one for the first time, they would ask "Where does this magical drink come from?", and the person would say "The United States" (or "America", or some other functional synonym).

I do mean this as an honest question: Can anyone suggest any brand name that is better known than The United States (frequently known as America)? I won't accept something like "god" or "food", since that is a concept not controlled or defined by any one person or group.

Is there any human in the world today, over the age of 15 who is not retarded or deaf, who has not heard of the United States? It's almost impossible for us to answer, for any researcher who could answer that question is most likely from the US or western Europe. In the most remote tribe in the Amazon, or New Guinea, or Africa, if they've made contact with the outside world, would they not ask about the rest of the world, and would they not be told about this magical place called "America"?

Are there any tribes left in the world that don't have communication with the outside world? There was one set of uncontacted tribes in the New Guinea highlands discovered about 20 years ago (I think this was discussed in "Guns, Germs & Steel", or one of Jared Diamond's other books). Where would a non-communicative tribe be in the world today, if they did exist? Amazon? Possibly, although several recent "undiscovered tribes" have been revealed as fakes. Africa? They may be a few levels removed from direct contact with "the outside world", but my guess is that they do have contact with the other tribes who have contact with the outside world. New Guinea? It's been pretty directly explored for a while now.

(For more information on this topic, including some where my guesses are a little wrong, see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Uncontacted_peoples)

Purification in Mexico City

Fly into Mexico City on March 16, and have a 6 hour layover. Tiina and I check our luggage for the next flight and catch the subway to the center of the city. The main square has some colonial (Renaissance style? or Gothic style?) architecture in the old palace and the cathedral, and some ruins of Aztec temples which they have excavated.

They also have many people, locals, milling about, enjoying themselves, listening to music being played by people in the square. Several groups of indigenous people dressed in classical garb, and non-indigenous people dressed similarly, are dancing and singing, and performing "purification" ceremonies for 10 pesos. Do I need to be purified? I do, for many reasons. Physically, from the flight. Emotionally, from recession and divorce. Spiritually, for my sins. Mentally, for the concerns of life.

They purify you with copious amounts of frankincense, and with a local basil-like herb. Anointing your head, arms, hands and face with basil is oddly refreshing.

Subway back to the airport, for a flight from Mexico City to Cancun, then on to the Island. A small gaggle of young adults from China on the flight from Mexico City. Presumably children of party members in China, if they have the means and freedom to travel. Are they going to visit the Island? No, they get off in Cancun.

Arrive in the Island much too late, around midnight. They seem suspicious of us in immigration and at the airport. Maybe we're spies? Or maybe we're just tourists with money to be swindled? The taxi attendant looks mean and officious. He waves for a taxi to come forward for us, then makes a specific show of putting our bags in the trunk and being important, looking for a tip. I'm tired and don't particularly like his method, so I don't offer him any tip and start to get in the taxi. He looks at me annoyed, then asks to see the address where we are going. I think I know his game now, but I'm too tired, and powerless to stop it. I show him the address, he reads it aloud to me, looks over at the taxi driver, repeats the address again to him. He nods at the taxi driver, who nods back at him. He turns to me and says "It will be 25 pesos for the taxi ride, pay the driver when you arrive." As we get in the taxi I notice the driver paying him his share of the inflated price. What would the price have been if I had offered him a tip up front?