Cuba, Day Three.

The Cuba Trip Day 3:  Wednesday, Juyl 25, 2012

This should have been our, Ta Ra Ra day.  The first time Deb and I  came to Cuba we had the same restrictions.  You had to stay with the group, and it was all about cultural exchange, and not a leisure trip.

But one day, with the help of our Cuban guide, who was an American defector, we went to his house at the beach at, Ta Ra Ra.  The group was making the trek to Hemmingway’s house, and not being big fans, a handful  of us decide that we would rather go to the beach.

Ta Ra Ra is a gated community about a half an hour outside of Havana.  It’s where the diplomats from other countries live, and select members of the local government.  There is a country club.  The beach is a pristine as any beach in the Caribbean, and I’ve seen plenty.  This guy had a three bedroom house with two bathrooms, a one car garage with a car in it, and a wife who was a psychiatrist, and looked for all the world like Selma Hayek.

Some of the animals are more equal than others.

But we had a great day, and were still back at the hotel in time for dinner.  This time, we are already ON a beach.  I could have just said, no, I’m not feeling well, stayed home, and spent the day drinking rum on the beach.  And had I known what I was in for, I would have done, exactly, that.

We went to the National Botanical Garden today. It took an hour on the bus to get there.  And then, we walked around and looked at trees for an hour.  It was interesting, don’t get me wrong.  But not THAT interesting.  And short of a summer work out during two a day football practices in high school?  I don’t think I have ever been that hot and sweaty.

Even the guy who was taking your change to, “run” the banos commented on the sweatiness of my shirt.  I didn’t understand a word he said, but I knew exactly what he was saying.  All I could think was, “You’re giving me shit, and you are a turd wrangler in Cuba?  Shut up and mop the floor, Julio.”

After the tour, a passable box lunch and a cold beer, then back on the bus for a ride to the town of Cienfuegos where we got off the bus, took a quick, and I mean quick, three block walk through the center of town, with no time to stop, or shop, or really see anything, then another cold beer, water break, and back on the bus.

I kept saying to Deb, “What was THAT for?”  If you want me to walk through the center of some town, I guess to, “get the feel” of the place?  Give me enough time to go in a few stores and at least look around. 

The only highlight of this little jaunt, was running into a kid wearing a shirt with a baseball player on the front of it.  He was about ten.  So I stopped him, and asked if he liked baseball.  He was kind of stumped, as he was with his dad, and dad didn’t  see me and kept walking.  So when I got him to understand, I took one of the University of Utah baseballs out of my pocket, and gave it to him.  He thanked me, and I don’t think I have ever heard a more appreciative, “Gracias, Senior!” in my entire life.  At least that little experience brought some light to a rather boring day.

Then  it  was a boat ride around Cienfuegos bay with a lovely talk about the local fishing.  Like I give a shit.  This bay is not historic, it’s not the bay in, “The Bay Of Pigs” and were it not lined by buildings, it would look a lot like taking a boat ride around Jordanell Reservoir in Utah.  In other words, hot, worthless and boring.

Another hour on the bus to get back to the all-inclusive (which should really be called the, “We’ll get back to you on that” when you ask for anything) and I was in need of a drink.  I had half a bottle of rum from yesterday, so I asked my son to please go to the lobby bar, and take a quart zip lock bag with him, and ask the bartender to fill it with ice.  He came back with a handful of ice cubes in the bag.  I asked him about it, and he said that was all the guy would give him.

Full service, ALL- inclusive, my ass.  If this is all-inclusive?  I want to try to make it on my own.  Even  in Cuba.

Danny has decided to make it his personal mission to save, Steve Williams, the KUER Music Director, and night time Jazz DJ,  life.  Steve is easily distracted.  If we are eating, and someone mentions a musician, or someone in the industry he knows, he’s got a story.  And he stops eating, and starts talking.  He is always the last one through with dinner, last one to get his desert, and I don’t think he’s eaten three quarters of any one meal since we’ve been down here.

Listening to him talk about music is like listening to, Cheech and Chong doing, “Santa Clause And His Old Lady”.  Every time someone brings up a name, Steve says, “I know that cat!”  Or, I played with that cat!”  And I’m sure he really did, but it’s pretty funny all the same.

So tonight, while we’re having dinner, Steve is sitting at our table, and every time he starts to tell a story, Danny looks at him and says, “STEVE!  Eat!”  To which, Steve would say, “Oh, yeah, right.”  And take at least a few bites of food.  He actually ate MOST of a meal tonight, and was only about five minutes behind the rest of the group finishing his rice pudding for desert.  So I think it’s working.

  Danny just came in to ask if he could go into town with his new Russian friends to some dance club.  That got a resounding, “NO!” from his mother and me.

I’m so tired, I’m going to go to bed as soon as I finish this.  We have a five hour bus ride to Havana in the morning.  And the roads here are so bad, you can’t sleep on the bus.

Tonight, we spend our last night in the rat hole that is The Brisas of Trinidad Del Mar, and we will go to bed tomorrow night in, The Hotel National in Havana.  I’m really hoping that we are going from the ridiculous, to the sublime.  But I’m not holding my breath.