Traveller's Tales: Excerpt from 'Rootless and Restless' 

Isla de la Juventud in Cuba, where I now found myself 

on this quest, was once frequented by real pirates of the

Caribbean. It became disputed territory after the Spanish

relinquished control, leaving both Cuba and the US vying

for it. Eventually, Cuba gained ownership of the island. It

hosted the infamous prison Presidio Modelo, where Fidel

Castro was imprisoned during the Cuban dictatorship,

and ironically so were the political opponents who spoke

up against the country’s socialist regime that followed. In

the 1960s, this architecturally striking circular prison was

closed and turned into a museum. The island, then known

as Isla de Pinos (Island of Pines) was a popular seaside

getaway among American tourists until the early 1900s, but

after the Cuban revolution in 1959, all American property

(like foreign property across the country) was nationalized.

The US eventually banned travel to Cuba. In the 1970s,

Castro rechristened the island Isla de la Juventud—Island

of the Youth—envisioning it as a hub for students as he

opened new universities across the island. These shut down

during Cuba’s economic slowdown in the 1990s, and the

island gradually slipped into oblivion. It remained only on

the radar of biologists and conservationists tracking the

endemic species on the island.

From the window of my low-flying propeller plane, it

looked uninhabited, covered in a tropical rainforest with

a canopy so thick it was impossible to imagine anything

below. The Caribbean Sea shimmered in stunning shades

of blue on its edges. I wondered if I should have taken the

occasional ferry from Havana and sailed slowly across the

ocean. But my hosts had discouraged me: it was not only

prone to cancellations, but more disturbingly, it was also

prone to capsizing!

I climbed onto the front seat of the yellow truck to sit

next to Alejandro at the driver’s wheel. I felt like I had finally

arrived in the Cuba that had beckoned me from vintage

postcards. When he switched on the ignition, reggae music

poured through the speaker. The road was more potholed

and bumpy than paved, but Alejandro didn’t seem bothered.

He was an engineer by education but ferried the occasional

passenger on his truck to make ends meet. All around us

was the same dense, impenetrable rainforest I had seen

from the plane window. He casually pointed out massive

Cuban iguanas—the largest of the Caribbean lizards and

one of the most endangered—lounging on the roadside,

unperturbed by the roaring of our engine. Falcons flew

right above us, sometimes chillingly close in the rear-view

mirror. A deer stood attentively at the edge of the forest.

Huge crabs, sensing our approach, ran helter-skelter across

the path. An enormous snake brought us to a screeching

halt. As adrenalin and awe raced through my body, I felt

like I was in a scene from a Steven Spielberg movie; a huge

dinosaur might appear in the window any moment now!

As we continued our bumpy journey, we spotted

more wild creatures than humans. Even though it was the

second-biggest island in the country, it felt far-flung and

sparsely populated. Our final destination was Cocodrilo

(Spanish for crocodile), a remote fishing village with only

320 inhabitants. Alejandro told me it had been cut off from

the world by the dense forest and the Caribbean Sea until

recent years, when the gravel road we were traversing was

built. Electricity had arrived only in the early 2000s.

Several kilometres later, the last stretch of the broken

road ended. With nowhere further to go but straight into

the water, it felt like we had arrived at the edge of the

Earth. A handful of colourful houses stood resolutely in

front of thick vegetation, beyond which lay the Caribbean

Sea, its crystal blue waters enveloped by a light blue sky. A

gentle breeze carried away the afternoon heat, promising a

pleasant evening.

Nene, a small-built, middle-aged islander with a

kind smile and black-rimmed spectacles hanging around

his neck, welcomed me with a cheerful ‘bienvenido a tu

casa’ (welcome to your house) from a bright blue house:

my island homestay. Nene was not only my host but the

visionary behind the coral reef restoration and sea clean-

up project on Cocodrilo. He had first gone snorkelling

and diving, with some basic gear borrowed from a friend,

way back in 1988 (the year I was born)! He was instantly

mesmerized by the underwater world, which became his

refuge and his muse. Many years later, determined to save

the coral reefs in his backyard, he started an underwater

restoration project on the island. He had already hosted

numerous volunteers and spent numerous hours cleaning

the seabed and meticulously replanting broken corals. I

had no idea then that living in his house for just a few days

was going to profoundly impact everything I knew about

travelling, our consumption patterns, our dietary choices

and how climate change is impacting the marine world.

(Excerpted with permission from Penguin India)