In the chocolate capital of the free Island, I was dragged in April 2008 Kuzina, invited to the chamber gastronomic festival of the famous dessert. We arrived, remembered the pioneer childhood. In the city quietly walks two varieties of pesos: converted and national. For "ethnic" tourists buy food-cigarettes, for "transformed" - everything else (clothing shoes, souvenirs, cosmetics), and in exactly reminiscent of "birch" boutiques. Local in folk stores are paid by cards.
The local Malecon cannot be distinguished from the embankment of Soviet port cities. On the tracks are rushing with a screeching, playing hurrying bits. Pretty grandparents are sitting on the shops chinno, speaking household problems. Behind the trees are hiding in love couples. The dyed-cheerful nature of the city is noticeable only at dusk, when guys with guitars are tightened to the sea.
But in the night Baracoa there is something frightening-African. In the dark, the pair begin to perform some native dances, throat songs with inadvertent words. This is because in Loman French explained to us one ancient Aborigine that the residents of the town are mostly confessed by SanTeria - religion that connected Catholicism and beliefs of Yoruba.