28 Seconds Later… The real Cuban hospital

Welcome back to our blog! This week we encounter the REAL Cuban hospital…

Having settled into our Viñales casa we were ready to explore.

Obviously the priority was finding meds for the clumsy one. The clinic was an absolute trek away (impractical when one is struggling with the basic act of walking) so we found out the name of a hospital which was a couple of roads away and set off.

The first time we’d gone to the international clinic back in Trinidad, we had been expecting the worst and were surprised by gleaming nurse uniforms and quaint tiled décor. So this time, we had higher hopes. But we were wrong.

It was grim. 

Remember those creepy zombie films with brutalist architecture and old hospitals with long, empty corridors and peeling paint? Various shades of sick green. Hard benches and flickering lights. Think the film 28 days later… In fact it was so bad, we didn’t feel comfortable taking out the camera or even sneaking a photo on our phones; so today’s images are from what very few other travellers have taken.

This is the real Cuban hospital. The hospital which technically operates for locals only, a far cry from the rhetoric of Cuba’s state-of-the-art health system. If you’re interested in reading more, click here for an insightful article investigating Cuba’s hospitals – be warned, the images are disturbing.

We now know what it’s like to go into a real third world hospital. We know what they smell like. And it isn’t pretty.

What you may not know is that we are both very much hypochondriacs. Antibacterial hand-gel is very much a feature of each and every day of our lives. Wet wipes abound. Elle practically acts as the pharmacy for her friendship group and Rosie is only saved from that fate by being friends with a lot of pharmacy students. This hospital was the stuff of our nightmares.

We walked in, trying not to touch anything, or breathe.

A quick chat with reception established that this was the hospital –  where we would have to have Elle’s wound cleaned. We waited in a dark hallway for someone to see us, watching a young mother with sad eyes have her prenatal check up and trying stave off our own panic attack which we felt was surely imminent. Our names were called and we walked in to the room, fighting the urge to run away that was threatening to overwhelm us with every step. A somewhat impractical urge, really, considering Elle’s inability to do anything more than hop quite fast.

Nothing short of miraculously, our doctor was a burns expert. She calmly and collectedly checked the wound, painted on some new antibacterial cleanser and wrapped it all up in a meticulously clean bandage. While the hospital itself was infested with vermin, all  the medical supplies were sterilised and separately wrapped in little squares of brown paper. Yet again, Cuba had surpassed all our expectations. If you ever find yourself in Viñales hospital ask for Damarí and give her a hug for us. She refused payment – although we were not covered by insurance to use the local hospital – and invited us to her home for follow-up treatment. Next time we find ourselves there we will find a way to repay the kindness.

Next week on our blog we encounter zombies in a cave and go horse riding. Come back for more photos and tips from our adventures in Cuba!

You mean you’re allowed to just…leave Cuba?

Welcome to our blog! This week we get to grips with Viñales…our second to last scheduled stop in Cuba.

Viñales was looking pretty sweet as we hopped off the bus (literally – infected blood pooling in your lower leg can seriously impede mobility).  Sure, we were immediately mobbed by every Casa owner in Viñales the moment we stepped through the door but that’s pretty standard so we weren’t too bothered. We’d done this twice before, man. We were ready.

Plus Johnny – our salsa teacher from Baracoa – had called ahead so we knew there was a lovely lady waiting with a card that said our names on it. We found her and headed to our home for the next few days.

The new casa was even better than Trinidad! There was a classic car gleaming outside, a dog (Toby) who looked like a teddy bear bounding up to us for attention and a turtle we could stroke on our way past. There was also air con. We like air con.

Once we’d settled in we sat down for a quick snack and a drink with our new host. Having met so many interesting people in Cuba we were keen to find out more about more about her experience of this fascinating country.

Over about three hundred thousand calories of fresh fruit, bread, coffee and assorted other food, Maribel told us about herself. She hadn’t always lived in Cuba – she had married a Spaniard and actually lived in Madrid for years. It hadn’t worked out and back she was in Cuba, only now bemoaning the lack of European comforts. Including the soya mince she had imported to Havana! Bingo – one happy vegetarian who knew she wouldn’t need to explain that she didn’t eat fish again! It turned out that Cubans can leave Cuba provided they have a mountain of paperwork or a flexible attitude to the law and a fair bit of cash. What was interesting about Maribel was that she had been able to come back and seemed to be living quite a westernised lifestyle – evident in the décor of her house.

Maribel on the patio:

We polished off our pineapple (locally grown, thanks to Viñales’ unique microclimate), haggled down the price of our room to 15CUC ($15) a night including breakfast, and headed to the rocking chairs on the patio to get ready to explore with a new perspective and a list of recommendations of things to see and do.

Oh and to stroke Toby!

Next week on our blog we encounter zombies in a cave, go horse riding and encounter the REAL Cuban hospital…

HELLO Trinidad! Getting meds in Cuba

Welcome back to our blog! Last week we hopped on the Viazul and left Baracoa to travel across the country again – this time to Trinidad, Cuba! Read on to hear all about our first day – and first experience of Cuba’s world famous medical system…

We arrived in Trinidad in the small hours of the morning after 15 hours of travelling, and without a huge degree of confidence scoured the bus station for Yare, the woman in a red top who Johnny (our Baracoan salsa teacher) had called to meet us. We were surprised to see there was indeed a young, sweet looking woman in a red t-shirt waiting for us, who confirmed she was Yare and led us to her house.

Even in our exhausted state we could see this casa was a cut above what we’d experienced in Baracoa – inside, the one story house looked almost middle-class, and had a picturesque courtyard at the centre. After showering, we emerged to a beautiful breakfast (albeit less rustic and plentiful without the Baracoan hot chocolate we’d grown accustomed to) – here are some photos:

Although it was only 9am by the time we finished breakfast, it was starting to get VERY hot – perhaps because it’s a little further from the sea than Baracoa.

Also, Elle’s leg was not looking good. The swelling had spread up and down her leg, and the marca de puta itself was going green. At this point, we got a reality check and decided we should probably go see a doctor to avoid Elle’s impending leg amputation. Prepare to be grossed out by these photos:

Marca de puta: literally ‘the mark of a prostitute’, is the Cuban colloquial term for a circular burn from a motorbike exhaust.  Why? Because apparently fast girls go for guys on motorbikes and you can spot them out from their ‘branded’ leg. No wonder the locals were so happy to see Elle!

Our concerned hosts drew us directions to the nearest tourist clinic (a couple of blocks away) and we hobbled off. Stepping in, we were hugely impressed. Expecting a third world dump, we were greeted by a pristinely clean tiled reception area and nurses in starched white outfits. Later on in our travels, we found out there’s a stark difference between these clínicas internacionales (international clinics for tourists only), and hospitals for the locals. 

We were ushered into the doctor’s office and Rosie explained the situation which apparently they’d seen many times before. Feeling bashful, we tried to explain that we weren’t total morons and that bikes in Europe have heat shields – but they didn’t seem to grasp the concept. Then a matronly nurse (with an amazing little hat!) led us to the adjacent room, sat Elle down, and began vigorously cleaning the infected ‘capa’ (scab/layer) – at which point R failed to hide her expression when E asked about the severity of the situation down there, and E almost fainted:

Telling us we had to come in every day for Elle to get her wound cleaned, we felt irresponsible for having left it so long. Then again, that’s not an unusual feeling with us. While we waited for Elle’s antibiotics, cream and elephant painkillers (free if her insurance company contacted Cuba’s national health insurance office by the next day to pay for her treatment), we were sat next to a German woman who also had an infected leg from being kicked by a horse. Hers was so bad she couldn’t walk at all, and had had to miss her flight home. We returned to our casa nervously darting into doorways whenever horses went past.

Tune in to our blog again next week for the next part of our story, and for more photos and tips from our adventures in Trinidad, Cuba!