The lower part of every Cuban hotel is used as a café and restaurant, and stands open to the four winds of heaven. It begins to fill immediately after sunset, and in warm weather is never empty until four o'clock in the morning. In the middle of the café is the kitchen, and in the centre of the kitchen will be found an indispensable retreat which does not add to the sanitary advantages of the establishment. Otherwise, a Cuban kitchen affords much interest and amusement to those in search of the picturesque. Round it are arranged little open charcoal stoves, above which are suspended an endless number of copper saucepans. Sometimes, up in a corner, is an image of our Lady of Guadaloupe, blessing, apparently, from the interior of her glass case, the motley gathering of cooks of all ages and colours, who are intently busy doing nothing. Here on the floor sits a little darkie shelling peas, and near him another small sable urchin howls because his ears have just been boxed for licking his fingers. Yonder is a group of chattering mulatresses whipping a cream, and there "Madame" herself roars at the top of her voice at the chief cook, standing frying chicken livers, strung on a skewer, over one of the innumerable charcoal fires, whose fumes would suffocate the whole noisy party, if this weird kitchen were not, but for its ceiling, quite an open air arrangement, for there are no glass windows anywhere in the house, the only protection against a storm being the green venetian blinds.
Our first night at the "Leon de Oro" was a memorable one. The hotel was packed, and, notwithstanding the seclusion of our canvas walls, it was impossible to get a wink of sleep,--in the first place, on account of the mosquitoes, and in the second on that of the chorus of snores which resounded on all sides after two o'clock in the morning, when our neighbours, after chattering among themselves like so many magpies, and even singing in chorus, finally succumbed to the claims of nature, and tumbled to sleep. The next day Madame found us two small rooms at the top of the house, where we were quite comfortable for the rest of our visit.
Matanzas is a well-built city, situated on a very beautiful bay, and backed by an admirable range of hills. Two rivers flow through it, the Yumurri and San Juan. The fine Plaza de Armas, in front of the Cathedral, and in the very centre of the town, is planted with a double row of magnificent acacias. The church, dedicated to St Charles, is fair sized, and has an imposing tower, but is not otherwise interesting. There are two other smaller churches in the town, but Matanzas is looked upon, throughout the country, as anything but orthodox. There are, however, several convents, and two very well managed hospitals. The fashionable quarter of the city is called "Versailles." Here the wealthier citizens have built themselves a number of beautiful villas, in the usual classical, one-storied style. These dazzling white marble columns, elaborate iron-work balconies, mosaic pavements and handsome porticoes, are doubtless a very accurate reproduction of the sort of house which lined the Via Appia in the palmy days of ancient Rome. Most of these houses are frescoed with mythological subjects, and painted in bright colours, whose somewhat garish tones are subdued by the deep green of the wonderful vegetation which surrounds them, and by the dazzling glare of the sunlight, which, pouring down from the deepest of blue skies, seems to mellow even the gaudiest colours into delightful harmony.