161 The pearl of the antiUes? 



the Zoology Department at the University of Havana, on a pre- 

 liminary trip to Oriente Province and the Rio Cauto Delta. We 

 traveled by bus from Havana to Manzanillo, and there I was able 

 to fly in a light plane over the magnificent delta country, where I 

 observed a large flock of flamingos on one of the extensive salinas 

 near the river mouth. There seemed a good chance that they 

 might nest in this vicinity, and a more thorough investigation later 

 on in the season, and by boat, was definitely indicated. 



During the return trip by bus I was witness to one small ex- 

 ample of the saying that Cubans do things differently from anyone 

 else. There were two drivers on the bus, one a slight man and the 

 other a great big fellow weighing well over 200 pounds. It was dusk 

 when we left Manzanillo, and the road as far as Bayamo had ap- 

 parently been built for travel by oxcart and never improved. Al- 

 most all of the seats were occupied, and for a time, as we pulled 

 out of the town and set off into the night, there was a buzz of 

 general conversation among the passengers. Then, what with the 

 hour and the increasing discomfort of the ride over that roadway, 

 a silence fell on the interior of the vehicle. At this juncture the 

 large bus driver, who had been talking with passengers in front 

 while the smaller man drove, reached onto the baggage rack and 

 produced a guitar. Strumming a few chords and smiling on one 

 and all, he began walking along the aisle and singing. Not a bad 

 voice either. After each song there was a burst of applause, and 

 looking around me I saw that every face was wreathed in smiles. 

 I asked Abelardo what the songs were about and he glanced at me 

 as if to see if I was serious, and then replied, "Why, the songs are 

 about love, of course!" 



Next, the driver stopped beside an attractive matron and ad- 

 dressed his song to her, evoking much coyness on her part, and 

 delighted laughter and uproarious applause from the passengers. 

 But his final gesture was even more wonderful. When the bus 

 stopped briefly at a station close to a swamp-bordered stream, I 

 noticed a lot of urchins along the road selling flowers. The large 

 driver stepped off the bus and returned in a few moments with 

 his arms full of wild gardenias. Each female passenger, regardless 

 of age or degree of pulchritude, was gallantly presented with a 



