Cuba, Day Four.

Cuba Trip, Day 4:  July 26, 2012.

It’s a holiday in Cuba.  It commemorates the day that Castro first attacked a Batista Garrison on July 26, 1953, and was defeated.  He went to prison, was exiled to Mexico, and generally, it was a tremendous failure.  But in Cuban culture? He came out on top.

We left the shittiest all-inclusive in the world early this morning, and drove to the Bay of Pigs.  Watched a propaganda film, and had to listen to Ed (his real name is, Edelso) spew more bullshit. 

Look, I know it’s this guy’s job to give us the party line, but it’s just getting ridiculous.  Yesterday, he couldn’t give a straight answer when someone asked about the lack of celling fans in the restaurants.  Bottom line?   They cost money, and Cuba doesn’t have any money, because the Castro family keeps it all and nothing, “Trickles Down” to the people.

This guy has spent all week trying to spin the fact that everyone in Cuba is given a ration book for their food every month!  “Because of the ration book, no one goes hungry in Cuba.  We have no hungry baby’s, and here is no one living in the street.”  Well, not exactly, but I’ll play along.

When we were in Havana in 2003, there were no beggars.  There were no homeless people.  Vendors didn’t get right in your face, like they have all week in Trinidad.  Which might be the shittiest town I’ve ever been in.  They might ask you to buy them some milk for their child, just before the police whisk them off, but they didn’t beg for money.

Now?  Not so much.

I admit, I didn’t see homeless folks in Trinidad, but it didn’t take long in Havana to see a guy with a backpack setting up shop in the grass across the street from the Hotel Nacional this evening.

This leads me to believe that their Mental Hospitals are still so full of political dissidents, that they have no place for the REALLY mentally ill.

At one point, earlier today, on the way to the Bay of Pigs, we passed a monument to a guy who fought in the Bay of Pigs Invasion.  A great hero.    His last name was, Reeve.  Ed went on and on about how Cuba had put together a group of doctors and aid workers, and a lot of humanitarian aid, to go to Haiti after the earthquake a few years ago.  And they named it the Reeve Battalion in this guy’s honor.

Someone on the bus asked if they had actually gone to Haiti?  And he said, “No.  Bush canceled the Visa.”

WTF?  I’m no fan of George W. Bush.  He could fuck up a rock fight.  Just about everything he did was wrong.  No, I was wrong.  EVERY thing he did was wrong.  But I can’t imagine even that guy denying a Visa to humanitarian aid workers after a Hurricane, no matter what country they were from.  But here’s where the serious lie comes in.  How does a United States President, have any influence over the free travel of people between the independent countries of Cuba, and Haiti?  You think the Republicans give Obama shit for blaming, Bush?  This is a REAL stretch.

The lies at the Bay of Pigs were epic.  I won’t go into detail, but let’s just say that if anyone believes that the American Military, and not the CIA, were responsible for painting old, American war planes in Cuban colors to confuse the Cubans, and that Americans were actually flying them?  They aren’t paying attention.

Then it was lunch.  It tasted pretty good, but by the time we got to Havana?  Half our group couldn’t go to dinner.  Deb stayed in bed.  I made it through the bread course, and then took a taxi home, leaving Danny to come back on the bus.

We stopped at an environmental station for information about a swamp.  No one wanted to go.  I stayed on the bus.

Collets?  You’re losing me!  So far this is the worst vacation I’ve ever been on.

One, too much planned time.  I know, I know, you have to have so much cultural exchange time in a day. I don’t know who makes that rule, our country or Cuba, but you guys have gone way overboard!  We leave at eight in the morning, and don’t get back to the hotel until ten o’clock at night?  When are we supposed to have any kind of, “exchange” with the actual people?

When Deb and I were here in 2003, we had a few evenings, and afternoons off.  To do a little shopping, find our own dinner.  It was much more relaxed!

Now?  Shit, we don’t have time to have a cigar in the evening with the other folks in the tour group because by the time dinner is over, we’re all exhausted!

And the last two days?  Total shit.  Completely worthless.   A total waste of time.  I learned nothing about culture, but a lot about lying, and how bad Cuba needs the money, because they will call any bullshit trip a cultural exchange trip.

On the bus ride to Havana from the Bay of Pigs, Ed decided to play us a movie.  Ed is going deaf, as he screams into the microphone on the bus, and today, he turned this thing up to, “11” and there were two speakers right over my head, so sleeping was impossible.

He played, “13 Day’s” about the Cuban Missile Crisis.  Deb asked me if it was a good movie, I had to tell her I didn’t know about the movie, but I knew how the story turns out, because I read books!

Despite the fact that this whole thing took place ten years before his communist ass was born, and he was on a bus full of Americans?  He actually applauded and laughed when the U2 got shot down.  This is going to affect his tip, trust me.

For crying out loud, Ed!  KNOW your audience.  Dumbass.

The rest of the day was a blur of bus ride and too loud movie.

By the time we got to The Hotel National, Deb, Danny and I were all sick.  Yep, the runs.  Deb had an awful stomach ache.  Four or five other folks were in the same boat.  The bus to dinner looked like the walking wounded.  Most of us would have rather not gone, and some of us couldn’t.  But I left Deb in bed, within reach of water, and took Danny to dinner.

Turns out, we were having dinner in a place Deb and I ate in 2003.  The Oriental, right on San Francisco Square.  It’s a great place.  But by the time they brought the bread, and one drink, I was falling asleep.  Taxi home.

I’ve been on some bad trips in my life.  None caused by drugs.  But this might be the worst one.

I’m going to see what tomorrow morning brings.  I really want to see the cigar rollers.  But I might just stay in bed.  Communism sucks.