From a Journal Entry 12-30-09 11:30PM
Today was a fairly eventful one, it started out rough due to my headache and naseua. I had gone out to the bar last night (don't know if I've mentioned the bar across the street from the farm that blares karoake during the weekends) and the beautiful bartender bought me a couple free shots and a tico bought me a third, so I had three more drinks then I should have, leaving me a bit worse for wear today. I did my morning chores and walked up to the house across the river to do the chores up there. I walked into the kitchen/living room (which is all outside) to find literally thousands of ants swarming the place, the walls and floor were all moving it seemed, a very strange scene to walk in on. After being bit a few times, when they climbed on and then into my boots, I decided to go out front and lay in the hammock and wait for the plague to pass. I dozed off and when I came to all but a few platoons of army ants remained, so I was able to finish my duties pain free and get out of there. I got back to the farm and was informed that we were going to make a compost pile and I was on poop patrol. I had to go around and collect the dung from the goats, horses, and chickens and bring it to the composting spot and proceeded to layer it with fresh grass trimmings and the kitchen scraps we'd been saving for this sole purpose. Afterwards I resigned to my tree house to take a nap, waking up with enough time to wipe the sleep out of my eyes before running down to begin my evening chores. I ran up to the other house first because I was supposed to collect one of the horses (Mr. Socks) and bring him down for the almost full moon ride we had planned for after dinner. I got up there having been followed by three of the dogs and did what I needed to before getting the horse ready. I heard the dogs chasing chickes and yelled for them to stop, thats when I heard the chicken crying and ran to the top of the hill to see what I'd expected, but didn't want to, see. Smokey the big dumb (but awesome) Weimereiner had a big white chicken by the throat, laying on the ground with it and he didn't seem to know what to do next. I yelled for him to come, but it wasn't until I lifted up a stick to throw at him that he actually listened. He came running up with a big smile and a dozen white feathers sticking out of his mouth. I berrated him, cleaned him up and proceeded to walk down the hill with the horse without further problems. By the time I was back it was dinner time and after eating we got the horses ready for the ride. The moon was spectacular, you could see things clear as day almost and the ride was great... well mostly. Zorba, the horse I was riding, likes to kick horses for no reason sometimes and towards the end of the ride he decided to do just that, kicking Paloma, at which point she retaliated, not being one to take any guff. She turned around and SMACK! Right into my leg, well luckily for me it was into my calf instead of ohhh, I dunno, say my ankle, knee, or shin? If any of those were the case then I would be heading back to the states in a cast tomorrow instead of continuing my adventures elsewhere. Speaking of tomorrow, it's New Years Eve, almost 2010, and I am headed over to a party with the family at a commune of sorts, owned by a guy named Joshua who is actually from Portland himself. His place is supposed to be pretty incredible, in the middle of the jungle and it's complete with a swimming pool and dancefloor. His wife is a belly dancer and is inviting her local belly dancing students, so maybe I should brush up on my Spanish skills *wink wink* On New Years day we are headed to another party which will be a big field game/pool party; lawn darts,, soccer, washers, etc. and they are awarding prizes and such. Finally I will head back here, spend my final night, head out the following morning and off to my next adventure. What's going to happen? Who knows, that's why it's called an adventure and not a vacation. Pura Vida.
Saturday, January 2, 2010
Saturday, December 26, 2009
The Times They Are A Changin' - Puriscal, Costa Rica
It´s the final countdown folks, after being at this farm for a month and a half I am leaving in five days to be exact. I might as well change the title of my blog while I am at it, I am getting out of Costa Rica next weekend and heading first to Nicaragua for awhile and then to Guatemala to check out the Mayan ruins. The reason for this change? A big part of it has to do with the fact that Costa Rica really isn´t that affordable, you end up paying close to American prices for food. Second is that it is now full blown tourist season and I want nothing to do with hoardes of ignorant tourists here to spend a couple weeks partying. Finally, after having researched and talked to many a person, I have realized that heading north will provide me with the adventures and further culture shock I am seeking during this journey. Point blank; Costa Rica is Americanized. Not saying I don´t love this country and it´s inhabitants, cause I really do, but I will just have to explore it more next time.
So many are probably wondering about my farm misadventures over this last month and a half and man oh man have there been plenty. After a week of spending time working my butt off at the main farm I moved up to another piece of their property with a nice couple that turned out to be from Portland as well. The other peice of property was literally a shack in the middle of the jungle and in order to get there or to get to civilization from there, you have to walk down and then up two steep hills divided by a large river. So I probably don´t need to point out that it took a bit to get used to. We had to haul up a couple goats, three horses, four chickens, two ducks, and a partridge in a pear tree. Merry Christmas by the way. Anyhow, it took a week or so to get settled in and in the swing of things up there in our temporary home we´d come to dub Camp Neverland. The nights were spent simply enough; preparing dinner, reading, playing UNO, bitching about our days. Days were spent working in the lemon orchard adjacent to the shack or repairing the broken water pipes or some other backbreaking sweat inducing job or defending ourselves from Mr. Darcy´s attacks. Mr. Darcy is the infamous male goat we had the misfortune of watching over, he just isn´t a pleasant animal. He likes to try and butt his head into you when you´re not looking and if that´s not bad enough, he smells horrendous! Male goats enjoy urinating on their own faces, no joke, it attracts the female goats, I don´t think I´ll be imitating nature anytime soon with that one.
Neverland wasn´t that bad though, there was a lot of time to explore the surrounding jungle full of rivers, waterfalls, beautiful birds, lightning fast lizards, and drunk locals. I learned a lot about my limits, living in close proximity to animals of various sizes, and especially that I hate roosters. They don´t just crow once in the morning like it is in the movies and television, no sir, they sometimes start at four in the morning and continue through out the rest of the morning sometimes as frequently as every ten seconds. Yes, I counted, I sure as hell wasn´t sleeping. They are mean to, I watched them pick on all the other birds on the farm, including an unforgettable while stoking the fire, I heard a commotion and looked up in time to see the small black rooster jump on the back of our white duck and grab ahold of the back of her neck in his beak, the alarmed duck started running around the farm flapping it´s wings with the rooster riding it the whole time! I didn´t know whether or not to interfere or stand and watch with my jaw dropped in astonishiment... I chose the latter. He finally had enough of his duck rodeo and jumped off. Welcome to the jungle baby!
Unfortunately I am running out of time for the day and need to run off and get my mandatory town trip icecream cone and catch my bus. I missed writing this blog and unfortunately didn´t have time to keep a daily journal so I don´t feel its been the most detailed account of my trip, but next time I will finish my farm stories, including my terrible week with Dengue Fever. I hope all is well friends.
Until next time...
So many are probably wondering about my farm misadventures over this last month and a half and man oh man have there been plenty. After a week of spending time working my butt off at the main farm I moved up to another piece of their property with a nice couple that turned out to be from Portland as well. The other peice of property was literally a shack in the middle of the jungle and in order to get there or to get to civilization from there, you have to walk down and then up two steep hills divided by a large river. So I probably don´t need to point out that it took a bit to get used to. We had to haul up a couple goats, three horses, four chickens, two ducks, and a partridge in a pear tree. Merry Christmas by the way. Anyhow, it took a week or so to get settled in and in the swing of things up there in our temporary home we´d come to dub Camp Neverland. The nights were spent simply enough; preparing dinner, reading, playing UNO, bitching about our days. Days were spent working in the lemon orchard adjacent to the shack or repairing the broken water pipes or some other backbreaking sweat inducing job or defending ourselves from Mr. Darcy´s attacks. Mr. Darcy is the infamous male goat we had the misfortune of watching over, he just isn´t a pleasant animal. He likes to try and butt his head into you when you´re not looking and if that´s not bad enough, he smells horrendous! Male goats enjoy urinating on their own faces, no joke, it attracts the female goats, I don´t think I´ll be imitating nature anytime soon with that one.
Neverland wasn´t that bad though, there was a lot of time to explore the surrounding jungle full of rivers, waterfalls, beautiful birds, lightning fast lizards, and drunk locals. I learned a lot about my limits, living in close proximity to animals of various sizes, and especially that I hate roosters. They don´t just crow once in the morning like it is in the movies and television, no sir, they sometimes start at four in the morning and continue through out the rest of the morning sometimes as frequently as every ten seconds. Yes, I counted, I sure as hell wasn´t sleeping. They are mean to, I watched them pick on all the other birds on the farm, including an unforgettable while stoking the fire, I heard a commotion and looked up in time to see the small black rooster jump on the back of our white duck and grab ahold of the back of her neck in his beak, the alarmed duck started running around the farm flapping it´s wings with the rooster riding it the whole time! I didn´t know whether or not to interfere or stand and watch with my jaw dropped in astonishiment... I chose the latter. He finally had enough of his duck rodeo and jumped off. Welcome to the jungle baby!
Unfortunately I am running out of time for the day and need to run off and get my mandatory town trip icecream cone and catch my bus. I missed writing this blog and unfortunately didn´t have time to keep a daily journal so I don´t feel its been the most detailed account of my trip, but next time I will finish my farm stories, including my terrible week with Dengue Fever. I hope all is well friends.
Until next time...
Saturday, December 19, 2009
Okay, okay
So I don´t have time for a full entry, I´ve got to catch my bus. Everything went okay with the first weekend here and on our own, nothing died and the family came back to a clean house. I have had a lot of crazy experiences since then but I will have to wait until next time I make it into town to tell you about them. Only two more weeks of this madness. Happy Holidays everyone. Until next time...
Tremors
(From my Journal 11.13.09)
Today was a good day, a lot of hard work and a bit shaky. At about 1:30pm while I was excavating a bunch of mud and chicken crap from in front of the coop we were hit with an earthquake. At first I thought it was a heavy crash of thunder but as Liz said, ¨Did you hear that earthquake?¨ We felt a jolt that shook everything violently for a second. I remember thinking where the hell am I going to hide and was preparing to flee to the center of the field but luckily it was a short one. I´ve only felt a few in my life but the sensation of having a normally immensely sturdy object beneath you shift is a crazy one.
At dinner we were informed that the family would be leaving for the weekend, which means we are going to be in charge of the farm... What could go wrong?
Today was a good day, a lot of hard work and a bit shaky. At about 1:30pm while I was excavating a bunch of mud and chicken crap from in front of the coop we were hit with an earthquake. At first I thought it was a heavy crash of thunder but as Liz said, ¨Did you hear that earthquake?¨ We felt a jolt that shook everything violently for a second. I remember thinking where the hell am I going to hide and was preparing to flee to the center of the field but luckily it was a short one. I´ve only felt a few in my life but the sensation of having a normally immensely sturdy object beneath you shift is a crazy one.
At dinner we were informed that the family would be leaving for the weekend, which means we are going to be in charge of the farm... What could go wrong?
The Dog Says WWOOF! (San Rafeal, Costa Rica)
(From my journal 11-12-09)
It has been a bit over 24hrs since I began my WWOOF program. For those who don´t know, WWOOF (Worldwide Oppurtunities on Organic Farms) is a volunteer program where you stay on an organic farm and work in exchange for room and board, you can do it all over the world and I am now doing it in the middle of the rain forest in a non tourist mountainous area surrounded by waterfalls and lush jungle. The farm is called Barking Horse Farm, it is amazing here and I am now doing this writing in a treehouse which is my bedroom. I am surrounded by palm trees and the noises of animals, birds, and insects of all kinds, and the pouring rain. As the name implies there are a dozen or so horses here, a dozen dogs, including seven puppies, they also have goats which they milk for cheese, a plethora of chickens, a gaggle of geese, some ducks, too many cats, and three kids (baby goats.) There are also two human kids, Olivia, 15, the resident goat keeper and Sam, 12, who is the resident tree climber, frog catcher, and torturer of his sister, Liz and Steven are the owners of this fantasy property, and finally the three WWOOFers, Tina and Frances, Germans, and me, American. As you can imagine it´s a bit of a madhouse around here and always something needed to be done. I arrived yesterday just in time for the afternoon torrential downpour, so we sat around and talked while the clouds emptied their bladders. After the rain stopped I was given a tour of the property and by the time that was done it was time for evening chores, mainly consisting of feeding the animals and cleaning. I then helped Olivia with the milking and it looked a whole lot easier when she did but by the end I was getting the hang of it. Afterwards we had dinner with the family and then the girls and I went up to the treehouses for a glass of wine and to get to know one another better and then it was time for bed. Speaking of bed there is a huge tarantula named Fang that lives in the beams above my bed. Stay up there and we will have no problems.
The next day began at six as every morning does around here and we began feeding the numerous animals and then hiked twenty minutes through the jungle and across a river to where there is another small house that they own as well with another three horses, a cat, and a goat who is off right now impregnating some females at another farm. We got back in time for strawberry pancakes and yogurt and drank starfruit juice, and discussed the days projects. I had to make a run down the road with the neighbor to collect 100lbs+ of rocks and gravel to fill in some holes around the farm, after a bit of hard labor the rains started and so we stopped working and laid around in hammocks until night chores and dinner. Now I am laying in under a mosquito net with a headlamp writing this entry. A simple life, but I don´t mind it much. For now. Goodnight Fang.
It has been a bit over 24hrs since I began my WWOOF program. For those who don´t know, WWOOF (Worldwide Oppurtunities on Organic Farms) is a volunteer program where you stay on an organic farm and work in exchange for room and board, you can do it all over the world and I am now doing it in the middle of the rain forest in a non tourist mountainous area surrounded by waterfalls and lush jungle. The farm is called Barking Horse Farm, it is amazing here and I am now doing this writing in a treehouse which is my bedroom. I am surrounded by palm trees and the noises of animals, birds, and insects of all kinds, and the pouring rain. As the name implies there are a dozen or so horses here, a dozen dogs, including seven puppies, they also have goats which they milk for cheese, a plethora of chickens, a gaggle of geese, some ducks, too many cats, and three kids (baby goats.) There are also two human kids, Olivia, 15, the resident goat keeper and Sam, 12, who is the resident tree climber, frog catcher, and torturer of his sister, Liz and Steven are the owners of this fantasy property, and finally the three WWOOFers, Tina and Frances, Germans, and me, American. As you can imagine it´s a bit of a madhouse around here and always something needed to be done. I arrived yesterday just in time for the afternoon torrential downpour, so we sat around and talked while the clouds emptied their bladders. After the rain stopped I was given a tour of the property and by the time that was done it was time for evening chores, mainly consisting of feeding the animals and cleaning. I then helped Olivia with the milking and it looked a whole lot easier when she did but by the end I was getting the hang of it. Afterwards we had dinner with the family and then the girls and I went up to the treehouses for a glass of wine and to get to know one another better and then it was time for bed. Speaking of bed there is a huge tarantula named Fang that lives in the beams above my bed. Stay up there and we will have no problems.
The next day began at six as every morning does around here and we began feeding the numerous animals and then hiked twenty minutes through the jungle and across a river to where there is another small house that they own as well with another three horses, a cat, and a goat who is off right now impregnating some females at another farm. We got back in time for strawberry pancakes and yogurt and drank starfruit juice, and discussed the days projects. I had to make a run down the road with the neighbor to collect 100lbs+ of rocks and gravel to fill in some holes around the farm, after a bit of hard labor the rains started and so we stopped working and laid around in hammocks until night chores and dinner. Now I am laying in under a mosquito net with a headlamp writing this entry. A simple life, but I don´t mind it much. For now. Goodnight Fang.
The Exciting Conclusion of Tale´s of a Vagabond
Where were we....
After eating the massive amount of icecream we went home and changed before heading out to find a peso dinner. We walked around being pointed here and there before we were all fed up and decided to go into Old Havana via local bus, as we were all running out of money. We were herded onto a packed bus and rode for awhile before getting off when we recognized one of the many beautiful statues we had seen earlier in the day. We walked through stopping here and there for beers and checking out the menus, almost everyone refused to let us eat off the posted menu and said there was a special menu for us which always turned out to be five times as much. We were all understandably getting tired of people constantly trying to take our money because we were tourists. We stopped at a place with live music playing, tired of walking. The girls ordered chicken, I ordered shrimp. My food was terrible but I ate it quickly and angrily, sick of the same story every night. The girls chicken was cold and they did the smart thing and sent it back. We decided to leave and not bother with trying a different dish. I paid for my shrimp and we informed the waiter we were leaving. He gave us some bullshit about how the front table was French and they were loving their food, as if somehow the French know great food. We left there still hungry and wandered around trying to find something cheap, quanity over quality becoming what we had to settle for. We found a place with mediocre food and filled our bellies. We all returned home, but I decided to head out to a divey peso bar I´d seen earlier where beers were only 40 cents a piece and rum was 20 cents, wishing I had known about it in the beginning. I entered into a basically empty room and sat down at the bar with the cigar Rob had given me the night before. An old man was tending bar and he spoke good enough english and we began to converse. I was a bit weary at first, as I learned to be when conversing with Cubans, but quickly warmed up discovering that he was merely an old lonely man and enjoyed my company more then anynthing. His name was Pepe and he had just turned seventy, he had been in Cuba all his life aside from a bit of travelling he did when he was young and times were better, at least monetarily. We spoke about Cuban-American relations and he confided in me early on that he felt it was time for change in their government. I was happy to hear this and began to ask the questions that had been bothering me the previous few days. The answers he gave and the things he told me brought me to the verge of tears at times. As a retiree he makes less then six dollars a month, which is why he works in the bar, the much younger bartender was paying him an undisclosed abount to work from midnight to six in the morning so he could run off and do God knows what all night. He told me that Cuba is a country where people save money in order to purchase food... FOOD! I asked him about the government supplied rations and he said they were given but meagerly. He said in general that there is just not enough food to go around, in his words, ¨people are searching for food.´´ Which I saw first hand, shops with empty shelves, restaurants with only half the menu available. It was all very sad. He said he dreamt of the idea of private property and a country where the people who had more were the ones who worked harder to get ahead. I explained, as he already knew, that Obama is working on lifting the embargos and travel restrictions, which would surely bring cheaper products and Americans with deep pockets into Cuba. Chewing on the end of his glasses he only replied, ¨ We are all waiting...¨ I left the bar that night with a lump in my throat.
I woke up the next day depressed and ready to get back to Costa Rica, so we headed back to the travel agency. After waiting awhile to be seen we discussed the situation and told the lady we wanted to head out the following morning so we could fly out with Leo. Unfortunately there were no seats and we would have to wait until Monday. I wasn´t very happy after this and told the girls I would just see them back at the hotel and began walking along the waterfront to clear my head. I walked for a couple hours before looping back around to the hotel. I stopped at a produce market and picked up a couple avocados at thirty cents apiece. I dropped them off at the room and wandered further down our road to find this pizza shop I read about in Lonely Planet. It´s called Pizza Celina and it´s prepared on the roof of a three story building. You have to yell up your order and after about five minutes he lowers it down in a basket and you throw your money in, roughly thirty cents. It was decent, or at least seemed to be after all the crap food I had eaten in Cuba thus far. I headed home half way satisfied and took a nap. I awoke and found the girls dressed to go out. I sat down to try out one of the avocados, which wasn´t the best I ever had, but I came to realize that I could travel around Cuba for ever and never once use the expression, ¨That was the best ____ I´ve ever had.¨ The girls really wanted me to go out with them and despite being determined to stay in I obliged. After it all it was Leonora´s last night before she was off to London. We went out to a couple places and they bought me a drink. Nothing too eventfull happened aside from a really bad Brazillian soap opera playing at one place. We decided to go out to the peso bar I was at the night before for a night cap. We talked to a couple older Cubanos who were infatuated with the girls, a couple ladies came in who were friends with them. One was a cute younger girl who was the neice of the other. Leo and Maya decided to go home shortly thereafter but I decided to stay and talk to this girl. I soon realized that the aunt was forcefully trying to sell me her neice and so I made up some excuse in Spanish and rushed out of there. Getting down the street I had another random girl literally begging me to pay her for sex. As soon as I turned the corner I started running straight home. I had some weird dreams that night.
The next day it was down to Maya and I. We went top the roof pizza place for lunch and then went souveneir shopping. We went home and napped before dinner, went out and ate, and came home to watch a movie on my Ipod. We were both broke! The rest of the weekend went the same, there was a terrible rainstorm that stayed overhead the whole time which was the tail of a hurricane in Nicaragua. By that point I was actually looking forward to going to San Jose. That week was by far the most stressful and eye-opening of my trip thus far. In summary; I think that Cuba is a beautiful country, despite it´s many faults, it is full of beautiful people (especially the women) and an interesting history. Did I enjoy my time there? Sure, at least I think so. Will I come back? Definately. Would I do it differently? In many ways. The US has it´s problems and I will be among the first to point them out, but after spending time in Cuba... Well...
After eating the massive amount of icecream we went home and changed before heading out to find a peso dinner. We walked around being pointed here and there before we were all fed up and decided to go into Old Havana via local bus, as we were all running out of money. We were herded onto a packed bus and rode for awhile before getting off when we recognized one of the many beautiful statues we had seen earlier in the day. We walked through stopping here and there for beers and checking out the menus, almost everyone refused to let us eat off the posted menu and said there was a special menu for us which always turned out to be five times as much. We were all understandably getting tired of people constantly trying to take our money because we were tourists. We stopped at a place with live music playing, tired of walking. The girls ordered chicken, I ordered shrimp. My food was terrible but I ate it quickly and angrily, sick of the same story every night. The girls chicken was cold and they did the smart thing and sent it back. We decided to leave and not bother with trying a different dish. I paid for my shrimp and we informed the waiter we were leaving. He gave us some bullshit about how the front table was French and they were loving their food, as if somehow the French know great food. We left there still hungry and wandered around trying to find something cheap, quanity over quality becoming what we had to settle for. We found a place with mediocre food and filled our bellies. We all returned home, but I decided to head out to a divey peso bar I´d seen earlier where beers were only 40 cents a piece and rum was 20 cents, wishing I had known about it in the beginning. I entered into a basically empty room and sat down at the bar with the cigar Rob had given me the night before. An old man was tending bar and he spoke good enough english and we began to converse. I was a bit weary at first, as I learned to be when conversing with Cubans, but quickly warmed up discovering that he was merely an old lonely man and enjoyed my company more then anynthing. His name was Pepe and he had just turned seventy, he had been in Cuba all his life aside from a bit of travelling he did when he was young and times were better, at least monetarily. We spoke about Cuban-American relations and he confided in me early on that he felt it was time for change in their government. I was happy to hear this and began to ask the questions that had been bothering me the previous few days. The answers he gave and the things he told me brought me to the verge of tears at times. As a retiree he makes less then six dollars a month, which is why he works in the bar, the much younger bartender was paying him an undisclosed abount to work from midnight to six in the morning so he could run off and do God knows what all night. He told me that Cuba is a country where people save money in order to purchase food... FOOD! I asked him about the government supplied rations and he said they were given but meagerly. He said in general that there is just not enough food to go around, in his words, ¨people are searching for food.´´ Which I saw first hand, shops with empty shelves, restaurants with only half the menu available. It was all very sad. He said he dreamt of the idea of private property and a country where the people who had more were the ones who worked harder to get ahead. I explained, as he already knew, that Obama is working on lifting the embargos and travel restrictions, which would surely bring cheaper products and Americans with deep pockets into Cuba. Chewing on the end of his glasses he only replied, ¨ We are all waiting...¨ I left the bar that night with a lump in my throat.
I woke up the next day depressed and ready to get back to Costa Rica, so we headed back to the travel agency. After waiting awhile to be seen we discussed the situation and told the lady we wanted to head out the following morning so we could fly out with Leo. Unfortunately there were no seats and we would have to wait until Monday. I wasn´t very happy after this and told the girls I would just see them back at the hotel and began walking along the waterfront to clear my head. I walked for a couple hours before looping back around to the hotel. I stopped at a produce market and picked up a couple avocados at thirty cents apiece. I dropped them off at the room and wandered further down our road to find this pizza shop I read about in Lonely Planet. It´s called Pizza Celina and it´s prepared on the roof of a three story building. You have to yell up your order and after about five minutes he lowers it down in a basket and you throw your money in, roughly thirty cents. It was decent, or at least seemed to be after all the crap food I had eaten in Cuba thus far. I headed home half way satisfied and took a nap. I awoke and found the girls dressed to go out. I sat down to try out one of the avocados, which wasn´t the best I ever had, but I came to realize that I could travel around Cuba for ever and never once use the expression, ¨That was the best ____ I´ve ever had.¨ The girls really wanted me to go out with them and despite being determined to stay in I obliged. After it all it was Leonora´s last night before she was off to London. We went out to a couple places and they bought me a drink. Nothing too eventfull happened aside from a really bad Brazillian soap opera playing at one place. We decided to go out to the peso bar I was at the night before for a night cap. We talked to a couple older Cubanos who were infatuated with the girls, a couple ladies came in who were friends with them. One was a cute younger girl who was the neice of the other. Leo and Maya decided to go home shortly thereafter but I decided to stay and talk to this girl. I soon realized that the aunt was forcefully trying to sell me her neice and so I made up some excuse in Spanish and rushed out of there. Getting down the street I had another random girl literally begging me to pay her for sex. As soon as I turned the corner I started running straight home. I had some weird dreams that night.
The next day it was down to Maya and I. We went top the roof pizza place for lunch and then went souveneir shopping. We went home and napped before dinner, went out and ate, and came home to watch a movie on my Ipod. We were both broke! The rest of the weekend went the same, there was a terrible rainstorm that stayed overhead the whole time which was the tail of a hurricane in Nicaragua. By that point I was actually looking forward to going to San Jose. That week was by far the most stressful and eye-opening of my trip thus far. In summary; I think that Cuba is a beautiful country, despite it´s many faults, it is full of beautiful people (especially the women) and an interesting history. Did I enjoy my time there? Sure, at least I think so. Will I come back? Definately. Would I do it differently? In many ways. The US has it´s problems and I will be among the first to point them out, but after spending time in Cuba... Well...
Monday, November 9, 2009
Tales of a Vagabond -Jaco Beach, Costa Rica y Havana, Cuba
Halloween weekend was spent in Jaco and I can tell you that I will never visit that horrific city again. Let's start from the beginning; I awoke the Friday before, in Manuel Antonio, a bit sick from the night previous, packed my stuff, and after lunch headed to the the bus station in Quepos north of town. It was terribly hot and I baked in the sun whilst waiting to board the bus. Shortly before ascending the bus steps I met some fellow travellers and quickly became friends with them. There were three Germans (Dennis, Peter, and Miriam) and two English lads (Ant and Andrew) and together we made the two hour trip. I quickly realized upon entering Jaco that the things I read were all true. Jaco is a dirty small surfing town and I had the luxury of previewing it in total as we hadnt know where to get off and the bus driver kicked us off as we approached the other side of town. We began the trek to the complete other side of town to where the hostels were located, it wasn't too much fun as it was very hot and I was carrying 50lbs on my back. We arrived to the general area and my new friends decided to stay in a cabina while I opted for a cheaper dormitory style accomodation on my own. In the ramshackle dorm were twelve beds and I shared the room with three germans and two norwegian girls, none of whom I got to know over the weekend.
After getting showered and settled in I proceeded to the cabina to meet up with the other travellers and during the one block journey I was offered drugs something like 10 times which I learned later is the norm in this town. I arrived to the other lodging drug free and we sat around chatting for awhile before heading out to see what the night had to offer. The bars were all infested with tourists all though there were some stunning Ticas here and there which I determined to be prostitutes seeing that the majority of them were with old american men who appeared to have money, it was all quite disgusting. We had met a couple of locals and also ran into Fabian, Jonathon, Maya, and April, friends from San Jose, so our party was getting quite large. I asked the locals to take us to where all the locals hangout and we were off. We arrived at a Latin music hell, complete with strobe lights, coked out Ticos, and transvestites. We left sooner then later which was probably a wise decision on our part, we were being told to watch out for theives and none of the people cared for tourists or Ticos from San Jose apparently. We went to a few other places but everything was the same story, prostitutes, drugs, and old dirty guys searching for one or the other. The night approached the end and I was walking towards my hostel accompanied by one of the local guys we'd met and we sat on a busstop to finish our beers. I saw a couple gorgeous girls walking by and one stopped and blatently told me her price at which point I told her she was beautiful but I don't pay for such things and she walked off and I imagine I was more disappointed then her. A moment later three older prostitutes came up and sat down being a bit more pushy (probably due to their lack of youth and good looks) I told them the same thing, minus the beautiful part, but jokingly said they could buy me if they would like. They laughed and asked how much, I said 10,000 colones (roughly $17,) they said it to much, Whores! The funny thing is as I was joking about prices Maya and Fabian came walking by and Maya started pulling me away saying she was rescuing me from making a bad decision. I explained the situation and the fact that the prices were for my body. C'mon Maya, your boy has better taste then that, really now. Anyhow, I went to bed alone and exhausted.
The next morning after situating myself I went to the apartment of Jonathans friend where all my San Jose friends were staying at for free. I napped for a bit and then had them drop me off in town on their way to the beach, as I desperately needed to get laundry done. Afterwards I stopped by to see what shape my recently made friends were in and found them just waking up, crazy europeans. They prepared me a delicious BBQ dinner and we went out again into a very uneventful All Hallows Eve, I would of gone home early but Andrew and Ant kept buying me beers so I obliged and ended up sitting on the beach until the sun began to tell me what time it was. I went and got a couple hours sleep on their hammock and woke up to head back to the apartment, we exchanged information with the plans of meeting up in January. I got back to the apartment and insteaded of leaving an hour later we left almost three hours later as Maya was late as usual. We headed back over the fog shrouded mountains back into San Jose. I wasn't sure where I was going to stay but Jonathon, the nephew of my host mother from before, suggested I stay with her for the night. After a quick call it was all arranged and I arrived at the house to a warm greeting, a hot meal, and an offer to do my laundry. I can't get over how warm and selfless Costa Ricans can be and I will never forget Liz's hospitality.
I awoke the next day at six in the a.m as my plane to Cuba waited. I was again fed an enormous bowl of fruit and some bread with ham and left to meet Maya over at Jonathan's house. We caught the cab to the airport and I hit the ATM to withdrawl all the money I thought I would need over the next twelve days in Cuba, for my American card would not work there for obvious reasons. I approached the counter to check in and asked me after a few other questions if I had any lighters in my check in or on my person, which I 5 in my bag for matters of preparedness, he said I had to remove them which I was very confused about because even in my lovely post 9/11 America I can have lighters in my checkin luggage and my carry on. Oh well. I removed them at which point I ran into Leonora the third member in our communist country bound party. My entorage and I headed to the gate to board all excited and a bit nervous about what was in store for us. The flight was uneventful, the food unedible, and the inflight movie unwatchable as per usual, but the scenery as we approached Cuba was absolutely stunning, beautiful blue-green waters climbing onto white sand beaches covered in palm trees.
We thought all was well and the journey was over but upon entering the airport realized that this was far from the case. We were greeted by men and women in uniform wearing face masks, whom approached us periodically to ask random questions and gave us a medical questionairre to fill out. All this because of the lovely swine flu crisis, which would definately spread quickly in Havana due to their lack of sanitation or hygiene which I would soon come to find out. After you fill out that you are sent to a booth where another person in a mask asks you to look into this camera directly in front of you either for passport photo matching purposes or some lie detection, either way it all felt very Orwellian which was seen more and more as I stayed in Cuba. After that you are buzzed through a door at which point all your stuff is xrayed again and you are thrown through another metal detector as if they do not trust the place you took off from. A guard then asks for your passport and walks off to discuss it with some other officers, you then go to another booth to drop off your survey and are asked another series of questions with the final one being "How do you feel?" Estoy bien was my answer and I was allowed to pass. I was now in baggage claim where two dogs were sniffing out everyones bags and I finally got mine off the conveyor. I searched for the guard to retrieve my passport at which point he told me to wait for a minute. We all sat around and waited for awhile before the guard, wearing a mask as well, asked me a more questions, mostly ones I've been asked already. It was all very annoying and I just wanted to get the hell out of there, but finally I answered all his questions and was allowed to proceed into the main airport where we could change money. I handed over 220 hard earned dollars and was given back 179 CUC, there is an 18% tax which I assume goes mainly into Fidel's pocket if he is actually still alive, his brothers if he is not. We haggled for a taxi into town for 20 CUC and approached Havana, the country is absolutely stunning with old half demolished cement structures here and there, all sorts of old Caddilacs, Lincolns, Bel-airs, and all sorts of other pre-embargo American cars, along with a bunch of european cars. We arrived to where we were going to stay, a casa particular, a private house where you rent rooms. The old european looking buildings were three or four stories all around which were seperated by dirty old streets with numerous children running around laughing, and plenty of people walking the narrow sidewalks. The gentleman who owned the house was a nice, jovial, older man, who spoke good english. He explained the in's and out's of Havana, the do's and don'ts, and finally how to use a key to open and lock all the doors which was, in itself, an amazingly long and amusing process. The rooms themselves were 20 CUC apiece, which is a lot but not when you consider that the government charges them 630 CUC a month in order to run this little operation. We all setup our temporary home and got showered and changed in order to begin our exploration of this new and foriegn land.
We were all pretty hungry at this point so we decided that food was to be the first thing on our agenda and we discovered quickly that it wasnt as easy to do as one would think. We ended up at a small hamburger place and were going over the menu when Maya began conversing with a local woman. She explained that there was a restaurant down the way and soon we were following her through back streets and ultimately ended up at some private residence (which is a common place to eat and is viciously taxed by the government, although I don't know the exact numbers.) I must insert a footnote here that the people are very pushy, polite, but persistent. They know that we have money and the fact that they are very poor, with a wage of 12CUC a month, try to get money out of you any which way they can. Violent crime is next to unheard of but this is something you have to watch out for. Anyhow, they tried to charge us 10CUC a person for dinner which we explained is ridiculous and talked them down to 4CUC which was still rather high but they wouldnt shut up until we accepted the meal. I was literally forced down into a chair at the table and we all sat not knowing what to expect next. The meal itself was not half bad, consisting of pork, rice, beans, and some yuca (a potato like vegetable,) although during the meal the family was constantly snorting up snot like some sick pigs. At one point during this interesting dinner the older women who spoke only spanish asked us if we were catholics, which we answered yes, assuming it was the appropriate answer and not wanting to open up lines of conversation. I guess we were wrong, she asked us how many gods we believed in, which we answered one obviously, she kind of scoffed which is when we took notice of the strange doll in one corner and a bucket with a tortoise shell, an axe, and some sort of creepy mask in it. One of the other main religions is a bit more hush hush in Cuba, having roots in Africa and being a bit like voodoo. Needless to say we finished our meals in a hurry, paid the lady and exited the house vowing to never to that again. It was the first of many rules we would make for Havana during our stay. There are many jinteros as they are called, hustlers, that you are told to ignore. They ask you, "Where are you from friend?" or, "Do you want a cigar?" If you answer the first they usually "have a friend" there or close to there and proceed to explain why they need money for this or that. If you answer yes to the second one they will usually try to sell you a fake or third rate cigar for an exorbitant price. Proceed with caution, or as we did, ignore them.
The next piece of madness began as we searched for a drink and began to explore "Chinatown." There is a guantlet of restuarants on a narrow street with waiters standing out in front of each literally jumping in front of you to show you their menus and what they have to offer, trying to persuade you with free drinks and such. It is a desperate, sad circus of sorts, that you have to basically just duck your head and powerwalk through. We stopped at a few random places at which point I got the guidebook out and found a bar that we should go to. We walked past the spectacular capital building that is modeled after the capital building in the states, and arrived at a bar that houses cheap cocktails and live cuban music, The Monserrate. We met a larger Cuban/Italian women with fake blue eyes next to us, she was crazy, but nice, and spoke no english, we dubbed her Ursela. At one point Leonora convinced her I wanted to dance and so I got up and did my best Salsa steps, which Leo seemed impressed with so maybe I will have to take up Salsa lessons before I return to Latin America. Ursela seemed to enjoy it and truth be told I had fun myself. After the band packed up they started playing trash american music and so we took that as a cue to head back home and get some rest before our beach trip the following morning.
We woke up Tuesday morning and had breakfast at the house we were staying at which was included in our room price, oh joy! It consisted of eggs, bread, juice, and a fiercely strong coffee. Afterwards he headed back towards the capital building in order to catch the bus to the beach. The bus was a comfortable, overly air conditioned, tourist bus at a reasonable price of 3 CUC for an all day pass. We got to a beach that I never got the name of, but the area was called Playa Este if anyone cares. The beach was surreal, the type I've only seen in posters, tv, and the like. White sands, magnificent waters, and a plethora of coconut trees. I was even able to fandangle one out of a tree and enjoy the delicious nectar within (that sounds kind of erotic.) We swam for a bit and I again missed my camera, as the water would have made for some great underwater shots, oh well. After swimming in the calm waves we made our way back to the sand to lay out and work on our tans that we were now acquiring after so much sun worshipping. I know rough life, sorry to rub it in... Suckers! At some point a young local man came up and asked the now tiresome question of "Where are you from?" Leo and I ignored him, but Maya answered and the guy kept talking to her, asking if she'd watch his clothes while he went in for a swim. He went off into the water and the girls decided to get out of the sun and up into the shade for awhile. The guy came back and, of course, laid down next to Maya. I remained where I was, half listening for any calls of distress or lewd comments from the Cuban. I decided that since it was Maya who got herself into this situation, that she could deal with it for awhile. After the guy left the girls began to explain to me that the entire time he was laying there he had a full blown erection! They were obviously disgusted, I was slightly amused... I imagine Maya will keep her mouth shut next time. We all laugh about it now though, so no harm no foul. We left the beach and got on the bus after a quick stop for refreshments at a little hut.
Getting home, showering, and changing, we quickly realized we hadn't since breakfast and were all getting a bit ornery. We headed out to find some dinner, all the while dodging questions from the jinteros, and bitching about Cuba. We decided to give one of the restaurants in "Chinatown" a shot (mind you, there are no Chinese in Chinatown.) After looking over the menus we decided on a place that looked okay and affordable, alright, the girls chose a place cause I just sat down and told them to figure it out, not wanting to be involved in there indecisiveness. The place was ridiculous and R. Kelly videos were playing on the TV. I ordered some pork rice dish and the ladies for some reason in a restaurant in Chinatown, decided to order pizza of all things. How was it girls? My dish was so-so, the girls complained that there pizza was too salty and not good at all, big suprise... After yet another amazing Cuban meal we headed back to the bar we were at the night before, hoping to wash the bad taste out of our mouth. On the way inside I decided I wanted to go find a Cigar at a store I thought I had seen the day prior. The shop was closed so I asked a gentleman working at an "upscale" restaurant about where to find one. He whistled and made a waving gesture and guy came out of the shadows, he told me to follow him and the other guy said it was okay. So I followed this guy through some back streets and up some stairs into an apartment, there was another guy up there who pulled out a five gallon bucket full of boxes of different nice cigars. I explained that I just wanted one cigar and they acted like it was a full box or nothing so I said thanks, but no thanks, and walked out. Sure enough I was chased down the stairs by the guy saying that I could buy one for 5 CUC, I said four, he said okay, and off I went with a fancy Cohiba in my hand. I arrived to the bar to find the girls sitting with their mojitos, enjoying some live music. I ordered myself a drink and after awhile decided it was time to try out my recently acquired tobacco. I lacked the proper tools, but looking around I saw a middle aged guy enjoying a cigar of his and approached him. He had an obviously American accent, so I bagan to talk to him and found out he was from outside of Denver, Colorado. He helped me get my cigar cut and lit and I invited him to join our table if he'd like. His name was Robb if my memory serves me correctly. We all chatted for awhile and he told us about all the places we need to go and how to eat cheap, more on that later. He took off after a couple hours, but not before giving me another cigar to enjoy whenever, nice guy. After another round the ladies and I decided it was time for us to leave as well and asked for the check. The total was 39 CUC and mind you I stayed within my 10 CUC budget for the evening. The girls apparently didn't realize that their mojitos were 3 CUC apiece and obviously had several, but apparently didn't have the money to cover all of it and I had no more then I mentioned myself. Instead of explaining the situation to the waiter and running back to the house to retrieve more cash, Maya decided that it would be a good idea to leave the 29 CUC we had a dash. Before I had time to interject the girls were already out the door, I rose from the table not sure what to do as the waiter came over and grabbed the money. He told me to hold on a minute as the check itself had disappeared, I asked if everything was okay and he said no and sent the doorguy after the girls. I explained to everyone that I did not have the check and emptied my pockets to prove this. Maya and Leo came back in escorted by the large, bald, black, doorguy. Leo's purse was emptied to see if she had the check which she didn't and Maya played innocent Swiss girl, not having any pockets, or a purse. I had though faintly remembered her doing something with it though and whispered that she'd better find it now. She began searching around saying maybe it fell somewhere, Leo sat frustrated with the situation, and I headed to the bathroom having had enough of the entire charade that I had nothing to do with. As I was washing up, the bathroom attendent, whom I befriended earlier, came in and told me that the check had been found. "Of course it did," I replied and we both shook our heads and laughed. So I told the girls to take off and grab the cash and return while I waited there as ransom. The crew seemed happy enough with this arrangement, but joked that if they didn't come back then the big chef would have his way with me (I hope it was a joke.) During the long wait I talked with some older Canadians who were pretty amused with the situation and honestly, I was pretty amused with it at this point as well. The girls returned and the first thing Maya did was come up to me and say I blame you, as if it was me who masterminded this scheme and denied any involvement. After it was all sorted out I was actually joking and chatting with the workers about the situation and everything else, everyone seems pretty thrilled with the idea of having a gringo in Cuba. We left on friendly terms with the guys and although were invited back, decided we probably should avoid the place for the rest of the trip. On the walk home I managed to get a confession out of Maya; she had in fact taken the check and threw it over the fence. Leo and I were fairly steamed about this, not so much because of what had happened, but because she tried to blame the two of us for everything. After the fact of the matter we all went to bed and woke up the next day in better moods.
We set off Wednesday morning in search of all the wonderful places Robb had told us about. They were all in Havana Vieja (Old Havana,) which was a bit of a walk away so first we decided to get the cheap eating figured out first. So here is the deal, there are two currencies, the Cuban Convertible (CUC) and the Cuban Peso (CUP.) 1 CUC= 24 CUP. You go to a bank of sorts and you can trade x amount of CUC for the respective amount of CUP and in turn you can go to peso street vendors where all the Cubanos eat and buy food for dirt cheap. For instance, we bought decent size ham sandwiches for 10 CUP, the equivolent of 50 cents US, that's cheap and cheerful as Leonora would say. Not saying the sandwiches or any of the other peso food was good, but you soon learn in Cuba that you eat in order to fill your stomach, not to actually enjoy the food itself. After our cheap meal we headed though Havana Viejo, which contained some awe inspiring buildings and plazas that seemed more reminiscent of a European town. We ended up at Plaza de Catedral(?) which, as the name suggests, is home to an enormous cathedral. I stepped inside and stood dumbfounded by the magnitude of it all, I unfortunately didn't do any research on it and am to lazy at the time of this writing to do so, but it's real, real, old... The entire Old Havana area is immaculately maintained, it is where all the tourism is after all, and is the polar opposite of the area we were staying in, full of buildings in disarray and filthy, foul smelling, streets. After we had our fill of culture we decided to start heading back, during the walked I spotted a place called Cafe O'Reillys that I had to check out. It was merely an Irish pub in esthetics but it was enough to send me thinking about one of my watering holes back home, Moon and Sixpence. We finally got back to the Central Park area and hailed a cab to take us to a more contemporary area west of there to change our flight plans. I mentioned earliar that we were going to stay for 12 days, but Cuba proved to be much more expensive then anticipated and Maya and I wanted to take off on Friday, which is when Leo's flight was. We arrived at the airlines sattelite office and were sent to another place as our tickets had been booked through a travel agency. We arrived at this place to be sent to another place, and another, and after walking around for awhile we ended back at the original correct place to find it closed. We were all very frustrated and tired from all the walking we had done that day and I decided the best remedy was to get some icecream from this place I had read about in Lonely Planet that was only a few blocks from where we were at. The place is called Coppelia's and is described in the book as a cultural phenomenon that had to be experienced firsthand. We arrived to a park like area with pathways on each of the four sides leading to a central area with tents and some large blue structure. Not really knowing exactly how it worked we stood in the line at the path closest to us, we were the only tourists in line and in fact in the whole area which is the kind of place I prefer travelling to. After what seemed like twenty to thirty minutes we were in front of this thirty person and were being ushered down the pathway and, still not knowing what was going on, just follow the people in front of us. We were seated under a red and white striped canopy and a waitress came to take our order. I said give us what the table next to us was having and shortly there after we each were given two bowls containing five scoops of coconut flavored icecream apiece; that is thirty scoops of icecream sitting at our table in the heat of the day, so we had to work fast. I had no problems and wolfed down my ten scoops with childlike delight. The bill was only 30 CUP, thats $1.20 American. We left severely bloated, yet satisfied.
Tune in next time to see the conclusion of Tales of a Vagabond or Cuban Missle Crisis...
Until next time....
After getting showered and settled in I proceeded to the cabina to meet up with the other travellers and during the one block journey I was offered drugs something like 10 times which I learned later is the norm in this town. I arrived to the other lodging drug free and we sat around chatting for awhile before heading out to see what the night had to offer. The bars were all infested with tourists all though there were some stunning Ticas here and there which I determined to be prostitutes seeing that the majority of them were with old american men who appeared to have money, it was all quite disgusting. We had met a couple of locals and also ran into Fabian, Jonathon, Maya, and April, friends from San Jose, so our party was getting quite large. I asked the locals to take us to where all the locals hangout and we were off. We arrived at a Latin music hell, complete with strobe lights, coked out Ticos, and transvestites. We left sooner then later which was probably a wise decision on our part, we were being told to watch out for theives and none of the people cared for tourists or Ticos from San Jose apparently. We went to a few other places but everything was the same story, prostitutes, drugs, and old dirty guys searching for one or the other. The night approached the end and I was walking towards my hostel accompanied by one of the local guys we'd met and we sat on a busstop to finish our beers. I saw a couple gorgeous girls walking by and one stopped and blatently told me her price at which point I told her she was beautiful but I don't pay for such things and she walked off and I imagine I was more disappointed then her. A moment later three older prostitutes came up and sat down being a bit more pushy (probably due to their lack of youth and good looks) I told them the same thing, minus the beautiful part, but jokingly said they could buy me if they would like. They laughed and asked how much, I said 10,000 colones (roughly $17,) they said it to much, Whores! The funny thing is as I was joking about prices Maya and Fabian came walking by and Maya started pulling me away saying she was rescuing me from making a bad decision. I explained the situation and the fact that the prices were for my body. C'mon Maya, your boy has better taste then that, really now. Anyhow, I went to bed alone and exhausted.
The next morning after situating myself I went to the apartment of Jonathans friend where all my San Jose friends were staying at for free. I napped for a bit and then had them drop me off in town on their way to the beach, as I desperately needed to get laundry done. Afterwards I stopped by to see what shape my recently made friends were in and found them just waking up, crazy europeans. They prepared me a delicious BBQ dinner and we went out again into a very uneventful All Hallows Eve, I would of gone home early but Andrew and Ant kept buying me beers so I obliged and ended up sitting on the beach until the sun began to tell me what time it was. I went and got a couple hours sleep on their hammock and woke up to head back to the apartment, we exchanged information with the plans of meeting up in January. I got back to the apartment and insteaded of leaving an hour later we left almost three hours later as Maya was late as usual. We headed back over the fog shrouded mountains back into San Jose. I wasn't sure where I was going to stay but Jonathon, the nephew of my host mother from before, suggested I stay with her for the night. After a quick call it was all arranged and I arrived at the house to a warm greeting, a hot meal, and an offer to do my laundry. I can't get over how warm and selfless Costa Ricans can be and I will never forget Liz's hospitality.
I awoke the next day at six in the a.m as my plane to Cuba waited. I was again fed an enormous bowl of fruit and some bread with ham and left to meet Maya over at Jonathan's house. We caught the cab to the airport and I hit the ATM to withdrawl all the money I thought I would need over the next twelve days in Cuba, for my American card would not work there for obvious reasons. I approached the counter to check in and asked me after a few other questions if I had any lighters in my check in or on my person, which I 5 in my bag for matters of preparedness, he said I had to remove them which I was very confused about because even in my lovely post 9/11 America I can have lighters in my checkin luggage and my carry on. Oh well. I removed them at which point I ran into Leonora the third member in our communist country bound party. My entorage and I headed to the gate to board all excited and a bit nervous about what was in store for us. The flight was uneventful, the food unedible, and the inflight movie unwatchable as per usual, but the scenery as we approached Cuba was absolutely stunning, beautiful blue-green waters climbing onto white sand beaches covered in palm trees.
We thought all was well and the journey was over but upon entering the airport realized that this was far from the case. We were greeted by men and women in uniform wearing face masks, whom approached us periodically to ask random questions and gave us a medical questionairre to fill out. All this because of the lovely swine flu crisis, which would definately spread quickly in Havana due to their lack of sanitation or hygiene which I would soon come to find out. After you fill out that you are sent to a booth where another person in a mask asks you to look into this camera directly in front of you either for passport photo matching purposes or some lie detection, either way it all felt very Orwellian which was seen more and more as I stayed in Cuba. After that you are buzzed through a door at which point all your stuff is xrayed again and you are thrown through another metal detector as if they do not trust the place you took off from. A guard then asks for your passport and walks off to discuss it with some other officers, you then go to another booth to drop off your survey and are asked another series of questions with the final one being "How do you feel?" Estoy bien was my answer and I was allowed to pass. I was now in baggage claim where two dogs were sniffing out everyones bags and I finally got mine off the conveyor. I searched for the guard to retrieve my passport at which point he told me to wait for a minute. We all sat around and waited for awhile before the guard, wearing a mask as well, asked me a more questions, mostly ones I've been asked already. It was all very annoying and I just wanted to get the hell out of there, but finally I answered all his questions and was allowed to proceed into the main airport where we could change money. I handed over 220 hard earned dollars and was given back 179 CUC, there is an 18% tax which I assume goes mainly into Fidel's pocket if he is actually still alive, his brothers if he is not. We haggled for a taxi into town for 20 CUC and approached Havana, the country is absolutely stunning with old half demolished cement structures here and there, all sorts of old Caddilacs, Lincolns, Bel-airs, and all sorts of other pre-embargo American cars, along with a bunch of european cars. We arrived to where we were going to stay, a casa particular, a private house where you rent rooms. The old european looking buildings were three or four stories all around which were seperated by dirty old streets with numerous children running around laughing, and plenty of people walking the narrow sidewalks. The gentleman who owned the house was a nice, jovial, older man, who spoke good english. He explained the in's and out's of Havana, the do's and don'ts, and finally how to use a key to open and lock all the doors which was, in itself, an amazingly long and amusing process. The rooms themselves were 20 CUC apiece, which is a lot but not when you consider that the government charges them 630 CUC a month in order to run this little operation. We all setup our temporary home and got showered and changed in order to begin our exploration of this new and foriegn land.
We were all pretty hungry at this point so we decided that food was to be the first thing on our agenda and we discovered quickly that it wasnt as easy to do as one would think. We ended up at a small hamburger place and were going over the menu when Maya began conversing with a local woman. She explained that there was a restaurant down the way and soon we were following her through back streets and ultimately ended up at some private residence (which is a common place to eat and is viciously taxed by the government, although I don't know the exact numbers.) I must insert a footnote here that the people are very pushy, polite, but persistent. They know that we have money and the fact that they are very poor, with a wage of 12CUC a month, try to get money out of you any which way they can. Violent crime is next to unheard of but this is something you have to watch out for. Anyhow, they tried to charge us 10CUC a person for dinner which we explained is ridiculous and talked them down to 4CUC which was still rather high but they wouldnt shut up until we accepted the meal. I was literally forced down into a chair at the table and we all sat not knowing what to expect next. The meal itself was not half bad, consisting of pork, rice, beans, and some yuca (a potato like vegetable,) although during the meal the family was constantly snorting up snot like some sick pigs. At one point during this interesting dinner the older women who spoke only spanish asked us if we were catholics, which we answered yes, assuming it was the appropriate answer and not wanting to open up lines of conversation. I guess we were wrong, she asked us how many gods we believed in, which we answered one obviously, she kind of scoffed which is when we took notice of the strange doll in one corner and a bucket with a tortoise shell, an axe, and some sort of creepy mask in it. One of the other main religions is a bit more hush hush in Cuba, having roots in Africa and being a bit like voodoo. Needless to say we finished our meals in a hurry, paid the lady and exited the house vowing to never to that again. It was the first of many rules we would make for Havana during our stay. There are many jinteros as they are called, hustlers, that you are told to ignore. They ask you, "Where are you from friend?" or, "Do you want a cigar?" If you answer the first they usually "have a friend" there or close to there and proceed to explain why they need money for this or that. If you answer yes to the second one they will usually try to sell you a fake or third rate cigar for an exorbitant price. Proceed with caution, or as we did, ignore them.
The next piece of madness began as we searched for a drink and began to explore "Chinatown." There is a guantlet of restuarants on a narrow street with waiters standing out in front of each literally jumping in front of you to show you their menus and what they have to offer, trying to persuade you with free drinks and such. It is a desperate, sad circus of sorts, that you have to basically just duck your head and powerwalk through. We stopped at a few random places at which point I got the guidebook out and found a bar that we should go to. We walked past the spectacular capital building that is modeled after the capital building in the states, and arrived at a bar that houses cheap cocktails and live cuban music, The Monserrate. We met a larger Cuban/Italian women with fake blue eyes next to us, she was crazy, but nice, and spoke no english, we dubbed her Ursela. At one point Leonora convinced her I wanted to dance and so I got up and did my best Salsa steps, which Leo seemed impressed with so maybe I will have to take up Salsa lessons before I return to Latin America. Ursela seemed to enjoy it and truth be told I had fun myself. After the band packed up they started playing trash american music and so we took that as a cue to head back home and get some rest before our beach trip the following morning.
We woke up Tuesday morning and had breakfast at the house we were staying at which was included in our room price, oh joy! It consisted of eggs, bread, juice, and a fiercely strong coffee. Afterwards he headed back towards the capital building in order to catch the bus to the beach. The bus was a comfortable, overly air conditioned, tourist bus at a reasonable price of 3 CUC for an all day pass. We got to a beach that I never got the name of, but the area was called Playa Este if anyone cares. The beach was surreal, the type I've only seen in posters, tv, and the like. White sands, magnificent waters, and a plethora of coconut trees. I was even able to fandangle one out of a tree and enjoy the delicious nectar within (that sounds kind of erotic.) We swam for a bit and I again missed my camera, as the water would have made for some great underwater shots, oh well. After swimming in the calm waves we made our way back to the sand to lay out and work on our tans that we were now acquiring after so much sun worshipping. I know rough life, sorry to rub it in... Suckers! At some point a young local man came up and asked the now tiresome question of "Where are you from?" Leo and I ignored him, but Maya answered and the guy kept talking to her, asking if she'd watch his clothes while he went in for a swim. He went off into the water and the girls decided to get out of the sun and up into the shade for awhile. The guy came back and, of course, laid down next to Maya. I remained where I was, half listening for any calls of distress or lewd comments from the Cuban. I decided that since it was Maya who got herself into this situation, that she could deal with it for awhile. After the guy left the girls began to explain to me that the entire time he was laying there he had a full blown erection! They were obviously disgusted, I was slightly amused... I imagine Maya will keep her mouth shut next time. We all laugh about it now though, so no harm no foul. We left the beach and got on the bus after a quick stop for refreshments at a little hut.
Getting home, showering, and changing, we quickly realized we hadn't since breakfast and were all getting a bit ornery. We headed out to find some dinner, all the while dodging questions from the jinteros, and bitching about Cuba. We decided to give one of the restaurants in "Chinatown" a shot (mind you, there are no Chinese in Chinatown.) After looking over the menus we decided on a place that looked okay and affordable, alright, the girls chose a place cause I just sat down and told them to figure it out, not wanting to be involved in there indecisiveness. The place was ridiculous and R. Kelly videos were playing on the TV. I ordered some pork rice dish and the ladies for some reason in a restaurant in Chinatown, decided to order pizza of all things. How was it girls? My dish was so-so, the girls complained that there pizza was too salty and not good at all, big suprise... After yet another amazing Cuban meal we headed back to the bar we were at the night before, hoping to wash the bad taste out of our mouth. On the way inside I decided I wanted to go find a Cigar at a store I thought I had seen the day prior. The shop was closed so I asked a gentleman working at an "upscale" restaurant about where to find one. He whistled and made a waving gesture and guy came out of the shadows, he told me to follow him and the other guy said it was okay. So I followed this guy through some back streets and up some stairs into an apartment, there was another guy up there who pulled out a five gallon bucket full of boxes of different nice cigars. I explained that I just wanted one cigar and they acted like it was a full box or nothing so I said thanks, but no thanks, and walked out. Sure enough I was chased down the stairs by the guy saying that I could buy one for 5 CUC, I said four, he said okay, and off I went with a fancy Cohiba in my hand. I arrived to the bar to find the girls sitting with their mojitos, enjoying some live music. I ordered myself a drink and after awhile decided it was time to try out my recently acquired tobacco. I lacked the proper tools, but looking around I saw a middle aged guy enjoying a cigar of his and approached him. He had an obviously American accent, so I bagan to talk to him and found out he was from outside of Denver, Colorado. He helped me get my cigar cut and lit and I invited him to join our table if he'd like. His name was Robb if my memory serves me correctly. We all chatted for awhile and he told us about all the places we need to go and how to eat cheap, more on that later. He took off after a couple hours, but not before giving me another cigar to enjoy whenever, nice guy. After another round the ladies and I decided it was time for us to leave as well and asked for the check. The total was 39 CUC and mind you I stayed within my 10 CUC budget for the evening. The girls apparently didn't realize that their mojitos were 3 CUC apiece and obviously had several, but apparently didn't have the money to cover all of it and I had no more then I mentioned myself. Instead of explaining the situation to the waiter and running back to the house to retrieve more cash, Maya decided that it would be a good idea to leave the 29 CUC we had a dash. Before I had time to interject the girls were already out the door, I rose from the table not sure what to do as the waiter came over and grabbed the money. He told me to hold on a minute as the check itself had disappeared, I asked if everything was okay and he said no and sent the doorguy after the girls. I explained to everyone that I did not have the check and emptied my pockets to prove this. Maya and Leo came back in escorted by the large, bald, black, doorguy. Leo's purse was emptied to see if she had the check which she didn't and Maya played innocent Swiss girl, not having any pockets, or a purse. I had though faintly remembered her doing something with it though and whispered that she'd better find it now. She began searching around saying maybe it fell somewhere, Leo sat frustrated with the situation, and I headed to the bathroom having had enough of the entire charade that I had nothing to do with. As I was washing up, the bathroom attendent, whom I befriended earlier, came in and told me that the check had been found. "Of course it did," I replied and we both shook our heads and laughed. So I told the girls to take off and grab the cash and return while I waited there as ransom. The crew seemed happy enough with this arrangement, but joked that if they didn't come back then the big chef would have his way with me (I hope it was a joke.) During the long wait I talked with some older Canadians who were pretty amused with the situation and honestly, I was pretty amused with it at this point as well. The girls returned and the first thing Maya did was come up to me and say I blame you, as if it was me who masterminded this scheme and denied any involvement. After it was all sorted out I was actually joking and chatting with the workers about the situation and everything else, everyone seems pretty thrilled with the idea of having a gringo in Cuba. We left on friendly terms with the guys and although were invited back, decided we probably should avoid the place for the rest of the trip. On the walk home I managed to get a confession out of Maya; she had in fact taken the check and threw it over the fence. Leo and I were fairly steamed about this, not so much because of what had happened, but because she tried to blame the two of us for everything. After the fact of the matter we all went to bed and woke up the next day in better moods.
We set off Wednesday morning in search of all the wonderful places Robb had told us about. They were all in Havana Vieja (Old Havana,) which was a bit of a walk away so first we decided to get the cheap eating figured out first. So here is the deal, there are two currencies, the Cuban Convertible (CUC) and the Cuban Peso (CUP.) 1 CUC= 24 CUP. You go to a bank of sorts and you can trade x amount of CUC for the respective amount of CUP and in turn you can go to peso street vendors where all the Cubanos eat and buy food for dirt cheap. For instance, we bought decent size ham sandwiches for 10 CUP, the equivolent of 50 cents US, that's cheap and cheerful as Leonora would say. Not saying the sandwiches or any of the other peso food was good, but you soon learn in Cuba that you eat in order to fill your stomach, not to actually enjoy the food itself. After our cheap meal we headed though Havana Viejo, which contained some awe inspiring buildings and plazas that seemed more reminiscent of a European town. We ended up at Plaza de Catedral(?) which, as the name suggests, is home to an enormous cathedral. I stepped inside and stood dumbfounded by the magnitude of it all, I unfortunately didn't do any research on it and am to lazy at the time of this writing to do so, but it's real, real, old... The entire Old Havana area is immaculately maintained, it is where all the tourism is after all, and is the polar opposite of the area we were staying in, full of buildings in disarray and filthy, foul smelling, streets. After we had our fill of culture we decided to start heading back, during the walked I spotted a place called Cafe O'Reillys that I had to check out. It was merely an Irish pub in esthetics but it was enough to send me thinking about one of my watering holes back home, Moon and Sixpence. We finally got back to the Central Park area and hailed a cab to take us to a more contemporary area west of there to change our flight plans. I mentioned earliar that we were going to stay for 12 days, but Cuba proved to be much more expensive then anticipated and Maya and I wanted to take off on Friday, which is when Leo's flight was. We arrived at the airlines sattelite office and were sent to another place as our tickets had been booked through a travel agency. We arrived at this place to be sent to another place, and another, and after walking around for awhile we ended back at the original correct place to find it closed. We were all very frustrated and tired from all the walking we had done that day and I decided the best remedy was to get some icecream from this place I had read about in Lonely Planet that was only a few blocks from where we were at. The place is called Coppelia's and is described in the book as a cultural phenomenon that had to be experienced firsthand. We arrived to a park like area with pathways on each of the four sides leading to a central area with tents and some large blue structure. Not really knowing exactly how it worked we stood in the line at the path closest to us, we were the only tourists in line and in fact in the whole area which is the kind of place I prefer travelling to. After what seemed like twenty to thirty minutes we were in front of this thirty person and were being ushered down the pathway and, still not knowing what was going on, just follow the people in front of us. We were seated under a red and white striped canopy and a waitress came to take our order. I said give us what the table next to us was having and shortly there after we each were given two bowls containing five scoops of coconut flavored icecream apiece; that is thirty scoops of icecream sitting at our table in the heat of the day, so we had to work fast. I had no problems and wolfed down my ten scoops with childlike delight. The bill was only 30 CUP, thats $1.20 American. We left severely bloated, yet satisfied.
Tune in next time to see the conclusion of Tales of a Vagabond or Cuban Missle Crisis...
Until next time....
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