One of the most famous recent visitors from Hong Kong was World Health Organization head Margaret Chan Fung Fu-chun, who gave former president Fidel Castro and his country's hospital system a clean bill of health.

When the Soviet Union fell, Cuba scrambled to make up for lost subsidies, and tourism became a source of hard currency. Castro legalized the US dollar and eased restrictions on foreign investment - the hotel trade mushroomed and Cubans started renting out rooms in their homes.

Now, despite the US embargo, Cuba is the Caribbean's second most popular destination after the Dominican Republic.

We thought touring the island by bike would give us a behind-the-scenes look at this country, where cars are a luxury and workers commute by foot, horse-drawn wagon, bus, bici-taxi or bike.

Cuba's embrace of non-motorized transit is fairly new. In the early 1990s, fuel imports had crashed with the communist bloc. The country imported two million bikes from China and local factories churned out 150,000 bikes a year.

But as tourism has grown and the economy has rebounded, cars and buses have begun edging out bicycles again. This might be the perfect time to go biking, before cars take back the streets.

We arrived on a late-night flight, staying the first night in the home of a friendly couple who rented us a room in their Havana apartment.

The country's capital is the best place for stocking up on Cuba's famous products: rum and cigars. The two are everywhere but fakes abound so buy from government-licensed merchants.

Those with a love of classic cars can rent a 1950s American gas-guzzler to tour around the city, but we preferred the cheaper, more eco-friendly way of seeing the country.

Pedaling west out of the city, along its seaside promenade, we passed apartment buildings festooned with laundry, crumbling grand hotels and nationalist slogans - " Viva Castro!" - scrawled on wood and nailed to telephone poles.

Somewhere in Pinar del Rio province, the country's tobacco capital, the sky, which had been darkening all day, cracked open. Soaked, we rolled up to Finca La Guabina, a horse ranch that doubles as an eco-hotel. A woman offered us a room in the converted farmhouse, where a flier beside the bed boasted such attractions as horseback riding, cockfighting and crocodile- breeding.The next morning, we pedaled away, flanked by galloping horses. A long day lay ahead: nearly 50 kilometers to our next destination, Maria la Gorda, a beach at the island's western tip.

Cuba is a cyclist's paradise: many roads are empty, and even on the busiest highways, drivers are used to sharing. But after lunch it felt more like a cyclist's hell: hot, flat and unending.

The monotony of the parched western end of the island was finally broken when we entered Guanahacabibes National Park, a Unesco biosphere reserve where a dense, humid forest surrounds the narrow road.

The forest broke suddenly into beach, and we caught our first glimpse of the Caribbean Sea. We rode another hour, tracing the coast until the road ended at a sleepy, palm-studded resort.

After a day of sun, sea and sand, we headed back toward Havana. We didn't have time to ride, so we bungeed our bikes to the roof of a taxi.

Traveling by bus or taxi is different from biking. You're protected from the elements, and also the small-time entrepreneurs trying to sell you a cigar or a pineapple but missing those things seems to be missing Cuba itself.

THE WASHINGTON POST