From Caribbean to Flanders: Contrasting Transportation Adventures in Cuba and Belgium

The moment you step onto Trinidad's cobblestone streets, you're transported to a living museum of automotive history. But unlike the pristine vintage cars of Havana that primarily serve tourists, Trinidad's classic vehicles are working transportation—genuine solutions to decades of import restrictions and economic necessity.

During my first morning, I flagged down a 1950s Dodge—faded turquoise with mismatched doors—that served as a colectivo (shared taxi) heading to Playa Ancón. For 5 CUC (roughly $5), I joined three locals for the 12km journey, listening to their animated conversation while the driver navigated potholes with practiced expertise. What struck me wasn't just the vehicle's age, but the ingenious mechanical adaptations: a Russian diesel engine, Japanese transmission parts, and hand-fabricated components that kept this 70-year-old machine running daily routes.

For solo travelers, Trinidad's transportation options require flexibility and a willingness to embrace unpredictability. Horse-drawn carriages aren't just tourist attractions but genuine commuter options for locals heading to the outskirts. For 1 CUC, I shared a carriage with a grandmother carrying produce from the market, learning more about local life during our clip-clopping journey than any guidebook could provide.

Bicycles offer the most independent option, though Trinidad's uneven streets demand decent handling skills. I rented a sturdy mountain bike from local rental shop for 5 CUC daily, which gave me freedom to explore the Valle de los Ingenios at my own pace. The valley's former sugar plantations tell the complex history of the region's wealth, and cycling between them provides context impossible to grasp from a tour bus window.

The true transportation secret in Trinidad isn't found in any travel guide—it's in the informal network of connections that makes everything function. My homestay host, Magdalena, became my transportation concierge, arranging everything from reliable taxis to securing seats on crowded buses with a few phone calls.

Case in point: when the Víazul bus to Cienfuegos was fully booked online, Magdalena arranged for her neighbor's son to drive me in his restored 1960s Hillman Minx for just 15 CUC more than the bus would have cost. The three-hour journey included an impromptu stop at his grandmother's farm for fresh mango juice and the best photo opportunities of my trip.

For solo travelers, particularly women, these personal connections provide not just convenience but an added layer of security. When arranging transportation to remote beaches or night returns, having a trusted driver recommended by your host eliminates the vulnerability of flagging down unknown vehicles.

Perhaps the most authentic transportation experience came when I joined a local family's journey to the beach in their máquina (the Cuban term for the classic American cars serving as shared taxis). For the equivalent of $2, I experienced the quintessential Cuban social space—windows down, salsa blaring, strangers becoming temporary friends as we bumped along coastal roads.

I highly recommend bringing a dry bag for these journeys. Mine protected my camera equipment during an unexpected afternoon downpour when riding in a convertible taxi, and it doubled as security for beach visits when transportation timing was unpredictable.

Arriving in Ypres after Trinidad feels like transportation time travel. The Belgian town's reconstructed medieval center (rebuilt meticulously after WWI destruction) is served by infrastructure that prioritizes sustainability and efficiency over all else.

My first morning, I rented an electric-assist bicycle from the tourism office (€25/day) and discovered what might be Europe's most emotionally moving cycling network. The region's dedicated cycling paths connect Ypres to surrounding WWI memorial sites, creating a poignant juxtaposition as you silently glide through the once-devastated Flanders Fields.

The numbered node system of Flemish cycling routes deserves special mention. Each intersection is numbered, and following a sequence of numbers (rather than constantly checking street names) makes navigation intuitive even for directionally-challenged travelers like myself. I plotted a 40km route connecting five war cemeteries and the haunting Tyne Cot Memorial using just a series of numbers jotted in my notebook.

For those less inclined to cycle, Ypres offers remarkably efficient public buses. The De Lijn network (€3 for a single journey or €15 for a 10-journey card) connects all major memorial sites, though services thin out considerably after 6pm. I found the offline maps app essential for tracking bus schedules and routes when cell service was spotty near remote memorial sites.

The contrast with Trinidad couldn't be more striking—where Cuba's transportation requires flexibility and social connection, Belgium's system rewards planning and technological engagement. Each approach reflects deeper cultural values: Cuban transportation prioritizes resourcefulness and community, while Belgian systems emphasize efficiency and individual autonomy.

While Trinidad's transportation charm lies in its unpredictability, Belgium's railway system demonstrates what happens when a culture prioritizes mobility as a public good. My journey from Brussels to Ypres (with one connection in Ghent) showcased European rail at its finest—comfortable double-decker trains with workspaces, reliable WiFi, and panoramic windows perfect for solo travelers wanting to maximize productive time while enjoying the landscape.

The Belgian Rail Pass (€83 for 10 journeys) proved to be my best investment, allowing flexible travel between Belgian cities without committing to specific times. This flexibility enabled spontaneous side trips, including an unplanned day in Bruges when I met fellow travelers at my Ypres guesthouse.

For international travelers, I recommend downloading the SNCB app and purchasing tickets in advance through their website rather than using third-party rail booking sites. The savings were substantial—my Brussels-Ypres journey was €16.30 direct versus €29 through popular booking aggregators.

Ypres itself is walkable, with most attractions within a 15-minute radius of the central Cloth Hall. However, for day trips to more remote battlefield sites, I found tremendous value in my portable power bank to keep my phone charged for navigation and audio guides. The region's memorial sites often have excellent audio content but limited charging facilities.

The architectural contrast between transportation hubs in both destinations tells its own story. Trinidad's informal taxi gathering points happen organically at street corners and markets. Ypres' train station is a purpose-built facility with digital displays, accessibility features, and seamless connections to local buses and cycling networks—reflecting fundamentally different approaches to infrastructure investment.

As someone who approaches travel with both an investor's eye for value and a preservationist's concern for sustainability, I found the economic contrasts between these destinations fascinating.

In Trinidad, transportation costs are relatively straightforward but require negotiation skills. A week of mobility cost me approximately: - Bicycle rental: 35 CUC (7 days × 5 CUC) - Colectivo taxis: 40 CUC (various short trips) - Horse carriage rides: 10 CUC - Private taxi for longer excursions: 60 CUC Total: ~145 CUC (roughly $145)

In Belgium, my transportation expenses were more predictable but higher: - Belgian Rail Pass: €83 (covering all train travel) - Electric bicycle rental: €75 (3 days) - De Lijn bus card: €15 - Occasional taxis: €40 Total: ~€213 (roughly $235)

The value equation extends beyond pure cost. Trinidad's transportation becomes part of the cultural experience—conversations with drivers and fellow passengers often led to dinner recommendations, hidden beaches, and insights into local life that no guidebook could provide. Belgian transportation, while more expensive, offers time efficiency and reliability that lets you maximize sightseeing hours.

For solo travelers on a mid-range budget, I recommend allocating 15-20% of your total trip budget to transportation in Trinidad and 20-25% in Belgium. The investment in mobility directly correlates to the depth of experience possible in each destination.

One unexpected expense worth budgeting for: a quality travel daypack with security features. Mine became essential for both destinations—protecting camera gear on bumpy Cuban roads and providing organized storage for maps, water, and layers during long days exploring Flanders by bicycle.