2024-03-27: Manaca Iznaga
Author: David
After El Nicho, our colectivo from Cienfuegos to Trinidad ended up being more of a private taxi, and it was nice to have a bit more breathing room in a car for the first time in Cuba. We thought we were going straight to Trinidad, but after about an hour and a half of driving over extremely rough rural dirt roads, we materialized in a little village with a huge tower, called Manaca Iznaga. We had no idea what this place was, but our driver asked if we wanted to stop and take a look, and we said sure, why not. It turned out that we were in el Valle de los Ingenios, or the Valley of the Sugar Mills, in which tens of thousands of slaves worked for Cuba's sugar industry several centuries ago. Manaca Iznaga is one of the plantations whose structures are still intact today.
These days, sugar is no longer produced in the region, and Manaca Iznaga is more of a scenic touristy area. Walking up towards the tower, the walkway was lined with gift shops and many gorgeous hand-embroidered textiles like tablecloths and shirts. Up at the tower, we got suckered into spending a few bucks to take a few hokey photos with a kestrel that belonged to some random guy, but honestly, I wasn't even mad - I have to admit that I really enjoyed having a kestrel on my head.
Rob only made it one flight of stairs up the tower before his skepticism of high places got the better of him, but I climbed the long climb all the way up. The view at the top was gorgeous. Having read a blurb at the bottom about the history of the region, it was interesting to imagine what the same scene might have looked like 200 years prior, when the slave-driven sugar industry was at its peak: what kinds of people might have been walking around, how the landscape might have differed, etc.
Walking back to the car, we stopped at a stand with a nice handmade tablecloth that we really liked, that seemed like it would fit well on our dining table at home. To my horror, Rob was willing to just pay the asking price, but much like buying a car in the United States, I knew that some haggling was compulsory, so I played the game. I told Rob to show less interest, and slowly whittled the price down. When it seemed like we had hit a wall and Rob desperately wanted to cave and pay, I dragged us away. And exactly as I had hoped, as we were walking away, they yelled one final lower price at us, to which I finally agreed. I used to hate the haggling game, but I've come to appreciate it over time as its own little art form, and especially when in a place where everyone expects it to happen, one may as well lean into it. I have to say, back at home now, the tablecloth really does fit beautifully in our dining room.
