07/02/2025
Topes de Collantes. Somewhere in the heart of the Escambray.
No signal. No noise. Just the sound of our feet on the trail, birds overhead, and the occasional “watch your step” from someone ahead.
Our first stop was a small farm. A woman made us coffee the way her mother taught her—on firewood, with beans from her own land. It was strong, sweet, and somehow exactly what we needed.
Then we reached the waterfall. Cold, wild, perfect.
We jumped in like kids. Laughed like old friends.
And for a few minutes, the world felt light again.
This is Cuba beyond the headlines.