Travelling to Isla de la Juventud

I've already written a certain amount about our journey to Isla de la Juventud, but it took most of the day so I'd better write some more about it.

I'm really not a fan of the bus station in Havana. It's very crowded, with people constantly approaching you for this and that. We wanted some breadkfast, and eventually reluctantly bought some bread rolls with miscellaneous meat in them. I was rather glad we did in the end - it was astoundingly hard to find anything more to eat for some time. The rolls weren't bad - being a food snob I don't think I'd have eaten them in Ireland, but I was quite glad of them yesterday.

The bus journey was fairly uneventful. I spent most of it writing while Mum watched the scenery. They got a bit carried away with the air conditioning, as Cubans tend to do when it's available.

At the entrance to the port in Batabano most of the passengers got off. Thinking this was our destination we got up to leave too, but the man sitting opposite told us to stay put to have our 'ticket' checked. This turned out to be bad advice - the people were getting off to buy food, which was really rather sensible. Oh well.

Batabano was horrible. We had to queue for tickets in a stupid room with disgusting toilets which made the whole room smell of faeces. Poor Mum actually used the toilets, but quite rightly didn't give any money to the attendant (she thinks she was probably supposed to). What exactly was this lady doing to earn money? I suppose having to sit next to that stench is pretty brave of her, but she clearly wasn't maintaining the toilets in the slightest so I'm not sure we needed an attendant. Yet again, an unnecessary job.

Anyway, we hung around outside for a bit, and then felt we should probably check in. So we did - an over-sensitive metal detector made both the underwire in my bra and the clasps on the back beep. And the x-ray machine spotted the penknife in my big rucksack, so I had to go back out and give it to a man who supervises dangerous items on the journey to the Isla. Mad.

Checking in so early was also a bad idea - why don't guidebooks contain this kind of information? We had to sit in another dingy, smelly room with a horribly loud TV behind us. A "shop" sold a couple of cans and some cigarettes but no food or coffee (Mum still hadn't had her hit for the day).

But thankfully I had a very absorbing Dorothy L Sayers book with me, and Lord Peter Wimsey had finally arrived to save the day, so I lost myself in 1930s Oxford while a small girl hit me on the back with her doll. Poor Mum found it harder to block out her surroundings, and we were both quite relieved to finally board the boat.

The boat was shockingly plush, and was showing Garfield in English, so it wasn't too bad. But again they were being over-enthusiastic with the air conditioning, and we weren't allowed to go sit outside which was rather disappointing. They did serve us more "ham" sandwiches which staved off the no-food grumpiness I'm liable to get, but I was still feeling rather irritated and impatient by the time we got to Nueva Gerona.

We passed through part of the archipelago around Isla de la Juventud, which had the most beautiful turquoise waters, presumably indicating the coral reef. You could really see Treasure Island in it there - lots of cliffs covered in creepers, and secret bays. Apparently the Spanish pretty much gave up on the Isla because they kept sinking their ships in the shallow waters around the island. The various hidden bays combined with the lack of a governor and its proximity to Havana made this very popular with pirates.