After more than six years, I returned to Varadero. I did it on an old Viazúl bus, thirstier than a camel crossing the Sahara, which between its slow ride and several stops to refresh the old engine, took about 5 hours to take us to the most beautiful beach in the world, as that old slogan said.
Varadero is, without a doubt, the most idealized and desired beach by Cubans, by those who don’t know it, and by those who do, who are the ones who, having experienced such a wonder, miss its crystalline waters the most. Varadero is also revered by people from the “beyond” who have enjoyed its charms and return to it whenever they can.
The first hotel in Varadero was built in 1926, a time when the 22 kilometers of beach on the Hicacos peninsula began to emerge as the resort par excellence for the island’s bourgeoisie. Then more hotels came and, with the Revolution, Varadero became the property of all Cubans, whether they had more or less in their wallets. Until the 1990s, when it once again became a tourist resort with little access for nationals.
Today in Varadero we are all mixed. Foreigners and locals. Black and white. Varadero belongs to all and is for everyone, but for many, it remains an unattainable luxury.
During my comings and goings through this world, I have encountered beaches of all kinds. Laredo, in the Cantabrian Sea, with icy waters and strong waves, or, at the other extreme, I have floated in the boiling Dead Sea. I have come across beaches with more or less fine sand, rocky, coral, with wild or lush landscapes, or even both features at the same time. But I always compare them with Varadero. And always, those beaches come out the losers.
Varadero welcomed me, as it should, with good sun and a sea of foam and fine sand. To top it all off, a kiosk with cold, imported beer — why not Bucanero or Cristal? — installed a few meters from the water by the management of the hotel we chose to stay in for a few days on the beloved blue beach.
Despite the strong winds of Lent, the weather was good and the sea showed its hues of blue, which vary depending on the current or the time of day. A crowd of vendors walked along the beach trying, without success, to sell the tourists a bottle of rum, a packet of coffee, cigars, or bananas.
Varadero never disappoints, rather we fall in love with it. This time it reaffirmed itself as what it is for us: the most beautiful beach in the world.
Author
Alejandro Ernesto
