March2017-Flipbook

Just outside of the Sol y Mar is a statue of rebel leader Camilo Cienfuegos
Nestled into the corner of a picturesque bay in the
northern extreme of Cuba’s Holguín province, the town
of Gibara seduces visitors in a way that only certain
out-of-the-way Caribbean gems can. Isolated and bubbling with
a unique cultural mix—often a point of reference in Cuba’s music
for a sort of idealized past—Gibara is accessible via a quick jaunt
of just under an hour from Holguín’s Frank País Airport (which
largely caters to the hedonistic resorts in nearby Guardalavaca).
As visitors ride in battered taxis along the undulating farmland
of northeastern Cuba—the sometimes smiling, sometimes
somber visages of revolutionary “martyrs” displayed on billboards
along the road—the glistening Caribbean eventually comes
into view, its surface criss-crossed by small fishing vessels. A
huge bandshell marked by the outline of a swordfish serves as
a greeting to Gibara, a sign that fishing looms large in the local
economy.
Seafaring alone, though, cannot account for Gibara’s distinctive
culture and the effect it has on those who visit. From time
to time these have included itinerant celebrity travelers such as
the famous American dancer Isadora Duncan, said to have spent
time here in 1916.
Duncan’s visit, as a dancer, would be apt today; the sound
of music—sinuous, ebullient and profoundly Cuban—echoes
through Gibara’s narrow winding streets. In a semi-derelict building,
the band Villa Blanca is practicing, attracting a small group of
locals and, on a nearby wall, a pair of seemingly interested cats.
“We play traditional Cuban music,” says René Serrano, 32,
the guitarist and leader of Villa Blanca whose name—White
Town—refers to Gibara’s nickname. “I like the cultural life here. I
like the idiosyncrasies of the place.”
At the Hostal Sol y Mar, which abuts Gibara’s modest
malecón (seaside promenade) and boasts a friendly, multilingual
staff, visitors can sit on a front porch cooled by the sea breeze. The
visible blades of windmills for wind-energy farms turn lazily just
outside of town, along a rocky shoreline. Gibara’s nearest tourist
beach—the somewhat stark, mostly treeless Playa Caletones—
awaits a rough 45-minute drive down the coast. [A fancier option
for accommodations nearer to the center of town is the refurbished,
turn-of-the-century 27-room Hotel Ordoño.]
Just outside of the Sol y Mar is a commanding statue of the
celebrated Cuban rebel leader Camilo Cienfuegos, looking much
as he did in life: Bewhiskered, a guajiro (peasant) hat pulled down
over his head, and a machine gun clutched in one hand. [Cienfuegos’
plane disappeared mysteriously over the Straits of Florida
less than a year after the Revolution’s triumph in 1959.] As the
statue of Cienfuegos hints, Gibara’s current placid vibe belies a
sometimes-violent past.
“Historically, this region was always the rebellious province
against Havana, so many movements started in Oriente,” says
Jaime Suchlicki, director of the University of Miami's Institute
92 CUBATRADE MARCH 2017