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The transportation crisis in Matanzas has reached a critical point that particularly impacts those sustaining one of the country's most strategic sectors: tourism workers.
Thousands of hotel employees and associated services—key players in the national economy—face a daily odyssey to reach their workplaces and return home, in a context where system failures are no longer isolated incidents but rather part of the routine.
The scenario described by the newspaper Girón reveals a decline that cannot be understated.
The company Transmetro, responsible for transporting tourist personnel, has stopped ensuring the levels of service that for years facilitated mobility in Varadero, Matanzas, and Cárdenas.
Today, the buses that used to operate with relative stability not only fail frequently, but have also seen entire shifts disappear, causing endless waits, extended working hours, and a strain that is felt throughout the entire labor chain.
Everyday life turned into an obstacle course
Stories like Wicho's, a veteran worker with 36 years in the industry, illustrate the magnitude of the problem. He lives 50 kilometers from his hotel, and his routine—which was already exhausting—has become unpredictable.
In the past, he could almost always rely on the bus that picked him up in Cárdenas and took him to Varadero. Today, he doesn't know if the bus will come in the morning, or if he will be able to return at 3:30 PM as he used to, because that schedule has vanished. He has to wait until 5:30 PM, uncertain if the trip will even take place.
Meanwhile, a crowd of desperate workers is trying to get there "by any means necessary": makeshift motorcycles, private cars, rides, anything they can find to avoid losing part of their wages for arriving late.
And if each arrival at the hotel is a small victory, the departure brings the same nightmare, with jammed stops and crowds trying to board the few buses that remain.
A collapsed system
Behind this chaos lies a structural problem: public transportation in Matanzas operates with only 32% of an already insufficient fuel plan.
This reduction has led to instances where the availability for passenger transport is "zero," as acknowledged by the director of the Provincial Transport Company.
Transmetro, which previously received guaranteed fuel for tourism workers—8,500 liters daily for Matanzas and 6,500 for Cárdenas—must now contend with deliveries well below those figures.
At times, the Matanzas–Varadero route has had only 3,000 liters, a drastic drop for a circuit that relies on numerous buses operating simultaneously.
This is compounded by a decaying vehicle fleet: of the 145 ideal buses, only 66 are operational in Matanzas. The rest are immobilized due to a lack of tires, batteries, spare parts, and lubricants.
The result is a transportation offer that cannot meet the real demand. Schedules are reduced, consolidated, and leave hundreds of people waiting in just a few shifts.
And when the buses fail—something that happens more and more often—a domino effect is created that ultimately exceeds the limits of what is tolerable.
"Second position": a patch that does not resolve
In response, Transmetro implemented an improvised solution: the so-called "second position" system. When a bus completes its route, it returns to pick up those who were left stranded.
But although this measure allows for the relocation of some workers, the consequences for them are negative: if they arrive late to the hotel, they lose two or three hours of pay; if they have to stay longer waiting for a replacement, those extra hours are not compensated.
The general secretary of the Provincial Hotel and Tourism Union explained it bluntly: after 24 hours of work, if the shift does not arrive and they have to stay an additional five hours, they not only become exhausted but also provide a deteriorated service. And the clients notice.
Despite this, some executives insist on downplaying the crisis.
Transmetro officials assure that "there is no instability," only "some delays," and they affirm that no one is left without transportation because the second position always appears.
However, workers prefer to avoid that system precisely because of the economic and physical harm it entails.
Moreover, communication issues worsen the situation: even though tourism managers are informed about the affected routes the night before, that information doesn’t always reach the employees who rely on it to organize their day.
Measures that worsen the problem and rejected solutions
Instead of being resolved, the crisis deepens.
To deal with the lack of fuel and buses, Transmetro has consolidated shifts, resulting in even more crowded buses and forcing many workers to seek private alternatives that they cannot always afford.
This is compounded by reports of drivers refusing to pick up or drop off passengers at unified stops, claiming that "it’s not their turn," and even instances of verbal mistreatment. All of this comes at a time when cooperation should be a minimum requirement.
The union's proposals—such as hiring buses from Transtur, which does have vehicles and fuel—have been dismissed because it is argued that this company can only transport tourists.
The option of hiring private carriers was also rejected. In the meantime, workers continue to pay in advance for a service that is not guaranteed to them.
A faint hope
A few hours before the publication of Girón, it was reported that the fuel supply was beginning to normalize and that new measures would be announced to ease the burden on tourism staff.
However, after months of uncertainty, the outlook is cautious.
Until there are real solutions, thousands of employees—like Wicho—will continue to wake up early, improvising routes, accumulating delays, losing wages, and arriving exhausted in a sector that demands excellence.
The transportation crisis not only takes a toll on their time and wallets, but it also undermines the quality of tourist services in a province where the economy literally depends on the transport buses running.
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