I've decided that I really like Trinidad, and whilst our travel companions go hiking, we return to the city centre and the Plaza Mayor. We want to explore the colonial buildings surrounding the square, starting with the Palacio Cantero, now the Municipal History Museum. Built in 1828 by one of the richest men in Trinidad, Palacio Cantero is one of the most impressive houses in the city. The spacious entrance hall opens into galleries filled with treasures from Europe, including some magnificent pieces of Sevres, Meissen, and Limoges. Unbelievably, these old and perfectly intact pieces sit precariously on tables and, I believe, are in mortal danger of being damaged. The staff are more interested in asking tourists for soap and pens than discussing the contents of this sugar-baron's home. This is a beautiful mansion and the typical central courtyard is a tranquil space away from the noise of the busy street. The adjoining tower includes a rickety staircase to the top. At first I baulk at climbing up the steps, but eventually decide that the view is probably worth the risk. We are presented with a magnificent 360 degree vista from mountain to coast. I can pick out landmarks, such as the cathedral on Plaza Mayor, St. Anne's Church ruins, the linen markets, and even look into the backyards of houses. With no high-rise buildings, I can see almost forever. 

Lunch is the next thing on our agenda, and we try to work out way onto the roof of a restaurant we can see from our vantage point on the tower. It is surprisingly easy to find, and from our rooftop table, we wave to tourists on top of the tower, which we have just left. 

Plaza Mayor is probably one of the nicest main squares we've visited in Cuba and is the historic centre of the town. The buildings surrounding the plaza, including Palacio Cantero, date from the 18th and 19th centuries when trade in sugar from the nearby Valle de los Ingenios and slavery brought great riches to the area. The small square has gardens on a raised platform, with paths dividing it in quarters. The resulting four small garden beds are bordered with white wrought-iron fences. Cobbled streets mark the perimeter of the square, separating it from the surrounding buildings. Wrought iron fences, lamp posts, and painted urns provide frivolous decoration to this pretty space. Whilst many of the structures in Cuba are dilapidated, Trinidad typically has preserved many of its historic buildings, generating an air of gentility and well-being. We wander around the square, visiting the Church of the Holy Trinity, which is closed, so we are unable to enter it. Opposite is the Palacio Brunet, which was once a family mansion and is now a museum of sorts. The view of the square from the second floor balcony is very nice and it's not hard to imagine rich families of the era relaxing on their balconies whilst watching the world go by. 

We are attracted by the sounds of music and follow it to a steep set of stairs. A stage is set up for live bands and bars provide nourishment in the form of beer and hot chips. And here we stay until the sun sets behind us. Music, dancing, beer, and people watching. The atmosphere here is electric. We don't have to dance. We can sit at a tiny table, absorb the vibrant music, and watch the dancers, somehow blending in with the landscape, but observing the action at the same time. This is pure magic.

We take a cab back to our hotel, and plan to return much later this evening for a special outing. Although we've seen a couple of the people from the tour around town, we've been happy to spend our day wandering under our own steam today. Given it's been a fairly tight itinerary so far, the days in Trinidad have not only provided a break from the tour, but have presented the opportunity to explore this wonderful city alone.

We call for a cab to collect us at 11pm from our hotel. I hand the driver the name of our destination, which is written on a page in my notebook. He nods and we take off into the dark night. Despite the late hour, I feel very safe as the car takes us through unfamiliar streets before I recognise St. Anne's ruins. We turn down a dark, narrow, unmade road. There is no sign of a nightclub down here. In the dark, I can barely make out a quarry and as the driver turns into a darkened and deserted building site, I begin to worry - slightly. The cab driver, so very friendly and helpful, has driven us to a deserted area, and heaven knows what his intentions are. Parking at the far corner of the site, which is surrounded by a wire fence, he stops the vehicle and jumps out, opens my door and beckons me to get out of the car. I am more than a little concerned now. Despite the situation in which we find ourselves, the driver is still very polite and genial AND no weapon has been produced. We stand next to the car, side by side.

What next?

The driver asks Tom for his name before telling us to come with him. We follow, wildly whispering how we could subdue the driver if he tries something on us. But the reality is that we are not equipped to fight off anyone and we actually have little idea of where we are, although I do suspect that Las Cuevas Hotel is close by.

Right at the corner of the wire fence, there is a tiny opening. The driver slips through and holds a wire flap aside as we follow him through the gap. We file past a pile of boulders, round a corner and in front of us is an iron gate made to fit a cave opening. He points to the sign. Ayala. This is our destination.

With an air of relief, we stand in a queue of people waiting to enter when the gate eventually opens. Pointing to his watch, the cab driver indicates that we need to tell him when to collect us. I write Tom's name on a sheet of paper from my notebook and 1 o'clock. He refuses payment for the fare. 'Later', he says. As he disappears into the blanket of darkness, we look at each other and wonder whether anyone would believe this story if we told them. Perhaps it was a little risky since we hadn't even told our tour guide where we are going, but so far, so good.

The gate opens and we move ahead to the ticket booth, where we pay 3CUC to enter the nightclub. We are given tokens to exchange for a beer each, which I calculate to be worth about the same price as the admittance fee. As we enter the antechamber, I realise that despite steps having been cut from the rock, the cave itself is in its natural form. The antechamber is like a huge foyer, which leads to another set of rough steps leading down to a subterranean room where the nightclub is warming up. A disco ball is hanging like a stalactite from a wire in the centre of the curved roof, scattering coloured dots of light around the room. We find a table on a ledge overlooking the dance floor. Inside a natural niche, the bar has been set up, whilst a narrow ledge high on the opposite side houses the DJ and his equipment. Blaring from speakers is non-stop music. When we had heard about this nightclub, we didn't quite know what to expect, but what we didn't anticipate was that we would know every song being played: Donna Summer, Gloria Gaynor, Saturday Night Fever, and more. Below, Cubans and tourists dance to the beats of American 1970s disco music and we love it. There is a surreal sense that we are part of something so unique and so far out of the normal experience of a tourist that I'm not sure that I can believe that this wondrous place really exists. But it does, as every now and then I feel a drip of water hit me on the head, which brings me back to reality. I cannot see whether there is a stalactite above me, but it adds to the amazing experience of being in this place. 

Long before we want to, and with ears ringing from the loud music inside the natural cavern, we retrace our steps back to the entrance, thanking our hosts as we step outside into the fresh air.

Tom hears his name being called. The taxi driver is waiting for us in the same spot he left us. We follow him to his cab, no longer worried about either his honesty or his integrity, and slip into the back seat of the ancient vehicle.

'Is good?' he says. We make effusive noises as the car's wheels spin in the gravel and we exit the dark parking area. Safely delivered to our hotel, and the driver paid and tipped, we return to our room.

I'm glad we both have a sense of adventure. It is very obvious that we are the oldest people on this tour; the others range in age from 18 to about 35, but despite this, we do like to challenge ourselves and sometimes our curiosity gets the better of us. We had probably felt a little unsure of ourselves for a short while during our trip to the disco tonight, but perhaps our innate instinct that Cuba is a relatively safe place set our minds at ease. Whatever the case may be, our night can go down in the Frawley record books as being one of the best ever.

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