Come on train! Don't sit on the platform, the train may suck you right off...
The agents decided to check on the Hershey train from the eastern end, and see if there was prospect of the journey back to Havana colliding, as it were, with their intent. And 'yes'. She is runnning! A couple of days reading put away 'The Cat's Cradle' (Kurt Vonnegut) and 'The Honorary Consul' (Greene) and we joined Hershey at 11am for the 1209hrs to Havana. She left on time with 40 passengers in the two coaches. Plenty of room. We took our lunch and water with us - and rum. Sardines, biscuits, avacado. Everyone had their own food bags for the 3 to 4 hour journey.
Remember the Tasman Limited: 14 hours from Hobart to Devonport - decommissioned in about 1972? Well this is the same pace for the 100km journey.
Triple Agent Rosa suffered at the chess board. Chè had taught her everything he knew, but he had died 50 years ago, so her memory had lapses. Was it the flies? The heat? The Ron de Cuba? The small board and uneven surface? The pressure from the local Jefe de Ajedrez? Wormald had to enjoy victory with dignity. "Historica Ayer - Valiente Siempre". History is written by the victors.
Che of course was a good chess player; but could he have trained Agent Tare to lose deliberately? Was this Moncada and 26 Julio all over again?
Triple Agent Tare contemplating the next move
Before leaving Metanzas (more correctly, 'returning to Metanzas') don't miss the Hotel Velasco in the Plaza Liberdad. Gorgeous. Great food, music, wine, service, internet (for baseball scores only).
Back on the train again: the plan was to slide in the back door, through the navy dockyard at Casablanca.
With his weapon trained on the Capitolio from the Morro across at Casablanca de Cuba, \Morewell felt confident of his strategic position.
"We are a hundred miles from Chicago, we have a tank full of gas, and we have our sunglasses on..."... what went wrong? Did John Candy join the State police for Metanzas?
The train lurched through the sugar valleys, the banana plantations. We sat near the driver, to give him confidence. "Señor" he shouted over the clickety clack and swaying of the vans: "where you from?" I told him: "Russia". How was I to know he was with the Russians too? He concentrated on the job at hand. Down the hill to the little town of San Fransisco and the train, she stop.
The men get out and check the roof, the floor, the wheels, the engine bit, the lines. The patrons get out and spread their picnic materials out, knowing this must be expected. Then she start up again!! Mario the engine driver found the issue, somewhere on the roof, using a ladder and large spanner.
Off we go....Then: a fire! we are only 15 minutes from conclusion and the poles (not people from Poland) holding the overhead wires exactly there, have caught alight from a little brush fire. We can not continue with safety. We return by reversing to the previous town and report the issue to the station master, who says he will fix it, and we progress back through the lit uprights with allacrity - if not safety. But, we got there! 'Speeding' (metaphorically) on to Havana at 5.30pm Friday night. All for ticket price of $1.65.
Mario reported the fire to Lopez. \Having done so, he sped through the danger
Remember the Tasman Limited: 14 hours from Hobart to Devonport - decommissioned in about 1972? Well this is the same pace for the 100km journey.
Triple Agent Rosa suffered at the chess board. Chè had taught her everything he knew, but he had died 50 years ago, so her memory had lapses. Was it the flies? The heat? The Ron de Cuba? The small board and uneven surface? The pressure from the local Jefe de Ajedrez? Wormald had to enjoy victory with dignity. "Historica Ayer - Valiente Siempre". History is written by the victors.
Triple Agent Tare contemplating the next move
Before leaving Metanzas (more correctly, 'returning to Metanzas') don't miss the Hotel Velasco in the Plaza Liberdad. Gorgeous. Great food, music, wine, service, internet (for baseball scores only).
Back on the train again: the plan was to slide in the back door, through the navy dockyard at Casablanca.
"We are a hundred miles from Chicago, we have a tank full of gas, and we have our sunglasses on..."... what went wrong? Did John Candy join the State police for Metanzas?
The train lurched through the sugar valleys, the banana plantations. We sat near the driver, to give him confidence. "Señor" he shouted over the clickety clack and swaying of the vans: "where you from?" I told him: "Russia". How was I to know he was with the Russians too? He concentrated on the job at hand. Down the hill to the little town of San Fransisco and the train, she stop.
The men get out and check the roof, the floor, the wheels, the engine bit, the lines. The patrons get out and spread their picnic materials out, knowing this must be expected. Then she start up again!! Mario the engine driver found the issue, somewhere on the roof, using a ladder and large spanner.
Off we go....Then: a fire! we are only 15 minutes from conclusion and the poles (not people from Poland) holding the overhead wires exactly there, have caught alight from a little brush fire. We can not continue with safety. We return by reversing to the previous town and report the issue to the station master, who says he will fix it, and we progress back through the lit uprights with allacrity - if not safety. But, we got there! 'Speeding' (metaphorically) on to Havana at 5.30pm Friday night. All for ticket price of $1.65.
Unwitting, the passengers on sedan 614 from \Metanzas to La Habana read or slept on
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