Cuba, Day Two

The Cuba Trip Day Two:  Tuesday, July 24, 201

No, none of the Cubans wished me a Happy Pioneer Day, even though I was wearing a, “Utah” t shirt.  I know this is going to come as quite a shock to some of my Mormon friends, who believe this is a holiday that the entire world, will one day celebrate. 

This is Deb and I’s first stay at an all-inclusive.  We usually like to experience the local culture, the local restaurants, meet the local folks in the stores, etc.   As Jimmy Buffett said, “I don’t  want to swim in a roped off sea…”

But we didn’t book this trip.  A travel agency did, for KUER, and they booked us into an all-inclusive.  We were told by our Cuban guide/minder, that it was one of the finest on the island.

That being the case?  Let me give you a little advice if you are thinking about trying an all-inclusive for the first time?  Pick ANY other country but Cuba!

We had to have someone come to fix the toilet five times.  Still not 100% fixed, water ran into the bowl from the tank all night long, but at least when you needed it, it would flush.

The air conditioner and the fridge ran all night long too, but neither one of them got anything any cooler.  Warm room, and warm bottle of water, even in the morning.

After scoring big on the cigars last night, a bunch of us sat around smoking them, and I figured out how an all-inclusive keeps its costs down.  You get a couple of hundred, drinking, young people from all over the world in the court yard to hear a band.  Then you close the lobby bar, where the adults would be getting their drinks.  You keep the one bar open by the band stand, and you staff it with only one bar tender.

This results in a long line, and a lot less drinks sold!  The resort can say, “Yes, you can drink all the alcohol you want”, while still not serving much actual alcohol.  I sent, Danny to get his mother a Mojito and he was gone about an hour, so I went looking for him.  Found him second in line for drinks, talking to a Canadian kid, not much older than he is, who was here on his honeymoon!

Today started early.  We were going into Trinidad so see a pottery shop run by a family who has been doing this for years and according to the Cubans, at least, is world famous.  We were going to take a walking tour or Trinidad, see the famous town square and cathedral that are supposed  to be as pretty as any in Cuba.  The morning started at the resort. 

Here in Cuba, you get fish with every meal.  After all, it’s a poor country, and it’s surrounded by fish.  If the Irish had noticed this during the, “Potato Famine” things might have been very different in OUR immigrant history.  Just sayin…

Well, the Cubans like to batter, then fry their fish.  Unfortunately for Americans?  They like to leave the skin on, too.  Not very appealing, especially for breakfast.  The grapefruit was roughly the consistency of a hockey puck.  I ended up eating a small omelet, and some mango.

Then, onto to bus.  We all have assigned seating now.  Barbara, our tour guide doesn’t have enough to do, so she gave herself the assignment of deciding where everyone was going to sit every day.  Knock yourself out.  I’m still going to let Danny sit next to his mother so he can help her, and I’m going to be right next to them.

I have to admit, the pottery shop was awesome.  El Alfarero was the family name.  I have never seen someone do, “tricks” with a pottery wheel.  This guy was amazing.  He would make something you though was going to be a pitcher, take out a piece of string, make a cut, and you had a frog, and a cowboy hat!  WTF?  How did he DO that!

 We then spent most of that touring Trinidad, Cuba.  Might be the most dirty, depressing, poor city I have ever been in.  They took us to see the Cathedral, said (by our tour guide) to be one of the most beautiful in Cuba.  It was not.  And I've included a picture.  For those of you who have been to Europe?  You will notice the ornate wood carving (since wood is cheap, and when you don't have a job, you have all day to work on it) and the LACK of gold.  That says it all.

 The museum was not very interesting.  The beggars were pushy.  It was hot and humid.
The one nice thing about the day, was they gave us about an hour to hang out in a Cuban bar where they made this really interesting drink with rum and honey, served in a little clay pot.  And there was an awesome Cuban band playing.

 For lunch, we went to a former plantation outside of town.  And again, more awesome Cuban music.

The problem with the Cuban music?  I always seem to get seated right next to it.  So when my wife or son says something to me, I have no idea what they are saying.  I figure it's probably something along the lines of, "It's hot", "It's humid", "I like the music".  So I just nod.

Given the choice to go back to Trinidad, Cuba or not?  I'd pick, not.  Not a nice town.

Cuba, First Day

The Cuba Trip: 2012:  Day 1.  Monday, July 23, 2012 

I know a lot more about Cuba than I did the last time I came down here.  At least I know who all the players are, going back to Josie Marti.  I understand why Castro and Che wanted to overthrow the puppet, US backed government.  The last time I came down here, listening to the tour guides, I was convinced that Marti came over on the same boat with Fidel and Che and took over!  Without the knowledge I have now?  The story all kind of ran together.

So it was with a different eye that I left Florida this morning, looking forward to see what, if anything had changed.   The first thing I noticed was the charter.

I’ve never heard of Sky King Airlines.  Lets’ just say they aren’t in the American Airlines Terminal.  The 737, which is kind of the workhorse of airline travel these days, didn’t have the name of the airline painted on it.  But the tail was painted with a lovely picture of tropical fish.  If we go down in the ocean, I have a feeling this will make it harder to recover our bodies.

The second thing I noticed was that the label telling me that my seat could be used for a flotation device, and there was a life jacket under my seat, was in Greek first, and English underneath that. 

I know that Greece is in trouble, but now I’m nervous about just HOW much trouble?  Are they having a fire sale on airliners? 

We always get to board early since Deb can’t see.  This is a real bonus for us.  We always get to put our carry on’s right above our seats.  But this time we’re not all in the same row.  I’m four rows behind them, but hey, at least I got an aisle seat.

Well, I got the shitty end of the deal on this one.  Danny and his mother get two huge, comfy, first class seats.  And get to wedge my fat ass into a regular seat.  This does NOT go un-noticed by the others in our tour group.  A good laugh was had by all. 

Then the regular passengers start to load.  The folks allowed to go to Cuba legally from the United States are ex-patriot Cubans, or folks who have family there, and they are allowed to visit every so many years.  This means old men wearing five straw hats, one on top of the other, to take home for friends and family.  Women carrying boxes and bags that would never, ever be allowed as carry on luggage on any regular US airline flight.  And kids running around screaming,  and sitting anywhere and everywhere, regardless of assigned seat.  Pretty much a Latin bedlam. 

At this point we are a couple of cages full of chickens away from being a Mexican bus. 

But it’s a short flight.  As a matter of fact, we waited longer for our luggage to come off the plane than we were in the air.  “Island Time” does, indeed, make its home in Cuba as well as the rest of, “The Carib”.

Two things haven’t changed about the experience of flying into Cuba.  When the plane touches the ground, all the Cubans start to cheer and applaud.  Like something they didn’t expect to happen, that they were only rooting for, just occurred.

And outside the airport, there is a throng of Cuban’s talking, pushing, not allowing anyone out the door, and waiting for their American relatives.  Judging by the number of big, flat screen TV’s rolling off the luggage carousel, I now know why.  It’s like when dad comes home from a business trip, and the kids are all standing at the door with the, “What did you bring me?” look on their faces. 

Next came a long bus ride through the Cuban  country side.  I didn’t see this part of Cuba the last time I was here.  We stayed in Havana.  But it’s a very pretty, very green country.  In many ways it looks exactly like every other island in the Caribbean.  Everything needs a coat of paint.

The houses are run down.  Most of the roads are dirt.  There are way too many horse drawn wagons doing the work of trucks.  It is very obvious that this country is very poor.  Our Cuban tour guide blames this on the collapse of the Soviet Union, since they were the number one buyer of Cuban sugar.

Considering The Soviet Union dissolved in 1990, and they have had more than 20 years to have found another way to make a buck, or at least another place to sell their sugar?  This seems to be a bit of a stretch.

God forbid you should blame it on a corrupt, communist system that has made the Castro family rich beyond compare, and left the peasants and farmers, and everyone else for that matter, desperately poor!

Lately, I have had trouble with my feet swelling up when I travel.  My doctor says it’s because I’m an old fat guy with blood pressure problems, and that getting up in airplanes will cause this.  So by the third day in Miami, I’m miserable.  And by today, I can take it no longer.  I need a diacritic, and I need it now.  Lucky for me, there is a pharmacy in the all-inclusive resort where we are staying.  And like in Mexico, you don’t need to go get your prescription from a doctor if you know what it is you need. 

Unlike a lot of stuff in Cuba, like the power, the water system and some other things, the medical system is really good.  Everyone can see a doctor, and get medicine when they need it.

When I finally make my needs known to the pharmacist, she tells me to wait a minute, and when she comes back, she has a blister pack of hidroclorotiazida 25.  In her broken English, she explains to me that the pharmacy is out.  But this is her medicine, and she has plenty more to wait until the pharmacy has more, and she wants me to have it.  And she didn’t want any money for it.

Any  one in Utah ever have THAT happen when you went to pick up your overpriced drugs at the local pharmacy? 
 
I finally left a $10 pesos convertibles and thanked her as much as I could.

The toilet in the room didn’t work all afternoon.  And when a guy showed up to fix it, he didn’t have any tools.  It fills pretty slowly, but at least it works.  The shower barely works.  There is only internet access in the lobby.  But hey, it’s an all-inclusive, so the drinks are free.  At least I got THAT going for me.

Dinner was back in Trinidad.  And it turned out to be a lot more interesting than I thought it would.  I learned on the last trip down here, not to believe the BS the government guys will tell you about buying cigars on the black market.  Yeah, they might be seconds, and they might not be as fresh as you get in the State run stores.  But the chances are they, as the locals say, “fell off a truck”.

That’s Cuban for, “as we drove through our neighborhood, we tossed a few boxes to our friends.”  That’s how cigars end up on the black market.  They are always stolen from the legitimate sources.  There is no sense in going to all the trouble to try and forge cigar bands and labels when you live in the land of the stolen cigar.  This is Cuba, not Mexico.

Tonight, I wanted to buy a couple of cigars from the bar where we had dinner.  They wanted $20 for a Cohiba , Especial, and another $7 for a cigarillo I was going to give to, Danny.

Now before you revoke my nomination for, “Father of the Year”, hear me out.  Our Cuban guide told us today, that depending on where you go, someone is going to sell your kid a drink, and a cigar at either 16 or 18, or if they think he looks old enough.  Knowing that he would try this all on his own, I thought that the least I could do was teach him the correct way to smoke a cigar under my supervision, instead of letting him get sick cause he didn’t know what he was doing.

I thought that was too much money.  So I offered $20 for both.  The lady behind the bar, said, “I can’t do that, it’s not my business.”  I understood.  She had a price list, and her orders, and wanted to keep her job. 

I asked the guy who was there, kind of running the cigar room.  And he showed me some boxes of five cigars, but the price was high.  So I just kind of gave up, and decided tonight, was not the night.

But as I’m leaving the kid came to me in the hall way and said, “I can get you a box of cigars for forty pesos.”  Meaning $40 CUC.  That’s less than $10 a cigar.  That’s great.  Even if they prove to be seconds, or not quite up to international standards, I know from my experience down here, they are going to be fresh, and well made.  I tell him I’m in.  And I agree to meet him at the corner in ten minutes.

Well ten minutes comes and goes.  Now, I’m holding up a whole bus load of people.  He keeps telling me that he’s guy is going to come through the door any minute, but I just can’t wait any longer, so I tell him I’m sorry, but I have to go.  And I walk back to the bus.

I know he’ s disappointed, as am I, but I have to think about all the other people on the bus.  I get on with Deb and Danny, and we leave. 

Pretty soon, Danny says, “There’s a kid running, trying to catch the bus.  Is it the guy you wanted to buy cigars from, Dad?”  I look out, and sure enough it is.  And he’s FAST!

I was just going to let it go, but he was really persistent, and I think the bus driver felt sorry for him, so he stopped.

I went up to the bus door and he’s taking a box of Cohiba’s out of a back pack.  Not a five cigar box, a WHOLE, 25 cigar, BOX of Cohiba’s out of the back pack.  I open them up, the cedar is there, the official paperwork and stamps are there.  So I give him the $40 and take the cigars!

The latch on the box is broken.  So this tells me that they are probably seconds, or literally DID fall off that truck, but they look good.  And at $40?  Even if they aren’t that good?  They are going to be pretty, darn, good!

When we got back to the resort?  I passed them out to a few of the guys on the tour, and we smoked them.  They were great!  One of the other guys gave Danny a cigarillo, and he seemed to enjoy it.

He ended up hanging around with some Russian kids his age in the game room, while a group of the adults all sat around talking college football, and smoking cigars until midnight.

This is a really strange story.  But I couldn’t make this stuff up if I wanted to.

And the best part?  If I have some left, and take them home, and Customs takes them from me?  I already got my money’s worth.

South Beach Sucks

And not because I'm not thin, rich and good looking.  I don't really care about any of that shit at this point in my life.  After having five surgeries since 2008 and it appears, surviving cancer?  I'm just happy to be here no matter what I look like.

And it isn't because my choice of automobile wouldn't stand up.  About every sixth or eighth car is a Camaro or an Audi of some kind (but I do have say, the, "Lambo", Ferrari, Porsche demographic is REALLY big here).

It's because there is NO PLACE TO PARK!  Say what you will about the boring life we have in the Suburbs of Murray, Utah.  But when I need to pick up a prescription, get a cup of coffee, or go to the liquor store, I have a place to park.  Here?  Not so much.

You have only two choices on this island.  You can circle the block, hoping for a break, or you can go to the public car parking lots, and pay, with your credit card.  Minimum of $1.  Then return to your car, and put the receipt on the dashboard.  Then you walk to where you hoped to drive.

You just can't, "Pop out" and go get a six pack, or a soda.  It's going to cost you, and take WAY more time than it should.

On top of that the people here drive like complete maniacs.  In cars that cost a million dollars!  You haven't lived until your rental Chevy Impala has been cut off in rapid succession by a BMW, an Audi, a Lamborghini, and a Ferrari, that were cutting between you and the Bentley in front of you.  You are worried about the rental getting hit, but not as much as the guy who cut you off suing you just for shits and giggles cause his car cost five time what your house did.

They pay absolutely NO attention to traffic lights, traffic signs, or those stupid lines painted on the road.  It's like all that stuff is just a suggestion.  To be ignored.

Traffic around here is unreal.  Have you ever tried to drive down The Strip in Las Vegas on a Friday or Saturday night?  If so, picture that, but instead of drunk people there to get married in, "limos", and rubes from where ever America in their rental cars?  You're stuck in a gaggle of Jaguars, and, "Lambos" moving two miles and hour being held up by a tourist in a rental car, who thinks she can just drive to South Beach, park on the street and watch, Jennifer Lopez have dinner.  Crazy.

We leave, "The Beach" tomorrow.  We head to the Sheraton to meet the rest of the folks on our tour, and then we fly to Cuba on Monday.  So today, I let Deb and Danny go to the beach.  I washed clothes.

Spent a couple hours in the Prison Laundry...  er, HOTEL, laundry listening to the sound of two washers, two dryers, a Coke machine and a perpetually running ice maker for the fourth floor while watching golf.

Now, if there is anything more boring than golf on TV, it would be golf on radio.  But the only choices on Saturday afternoon in South Florida, were that, Pro Bowling, NASCAR and old movies.  I Might be from West Virginia, but I'm not OF West Virginia, so NASCAR was out.  Bowling?  Really?  Who cares.  So golf it was.

And by the time I was done doing that, I just wanted to be out of that windowless room, and see some sun.  Should have gone to the beach out back, but decided to go for a drive.  Really bad decision.  I went five blocks in 45 minutes.

I don't know if it's because it's, "Mercedes Benz Swimsuit Fashion Week"  or if it's like this every weekend here.  But either way, I want nothing to do with it.

Danny decided that he'd had enough linen table cloth, sea food, hoity toity dinners and lunches this week (we ate at  Peruvian place for lunch today that was REALLY good.  But yeah, the waiters were wearing ties and vests.  Again) so we set out in search of a, Diner.  Good luck.  There are no, "Diners" on Miami Beach.

An hour and a half later, we had him set his GPS for, "Mexican" and found a place that was great.  But we didn't eat dinner until after eight o'clock.  I'd never even contemplated vegetable tamales.  I thought they HAD to be chicken or beef.  But they are awesome.

So our stay in the trendiest place on earth ends tomorrow, and It can't happen soon enough for me.  And, I'm pretty sure I won't be back.  If I have to fly to Miami for a cruise, or what ever reason?  I'll stay somewhere else.  Where I can park a car.

The Holiday Inn From Hell, And Awesome Italian Food

Deb and I spend a lot of time in Intercontinental Hotels.  We usually stay at Holiday Inn Express.  Mostly newer, always nicer, not too expensive.  But we've stayed in them all.  Crown Plaza, and even the Intercontinental in New Orleans for the Sugar Bowl.  I'm a gold member in their, Priority Club.  I'm a good customer.  And I'm pissed off.

We are staying at the Holiday Inn Miami Beach.  It's in the 4300 Block of Collins Ave. (A1A).  I give you the address because if you ever happen to be in Miami Beach?  I don't want you to make the mistake of staying here.

We picked this one because it has direct access to the beach.  So far, that's about the only thing that's gone right with picking this place.

Last night, we were tired and ate in the restaurant here in the hotel. The food was great.  When it finally got there.  And the same thing happened today.  We grabbed lunch so we could go to the beach.  It should NOT take 55 minutes to get a turkey wrap and an order of fries.

Last night, the toilet wouldn't flush.  So I called the desk and they said they would have someone come right up.  Great.  That being done, Deb and Danny and I spent three hours out on South Beach with the beautiful people before taking a taxi back to the hotel.  No one had fixed the toilet.

I called the desk, pissed off, and they knew it, and this time, they sent someone up to fix it.  When he was done, he said he would have housekeeping come and clean the toilet.  They showed up and cleaned the whole bathroom.  Except the toilet. 

I had to call the front desk three times last night to tell them their Internet access wasn't working.  took them more than a half an hour to fix it.  Tried to get on it again this afternoon.  It didn't work.

I went to the beach for a while with Deb and Danny, took some pictures, got wet.  It was a nice afternoon.  But I decided I was going back to the room and take a shower so we could go some place nice for dinner.  When I got here, I noticed there was still water in the sink.  Push the sink plunger, nothing happens.  OK, I crawled under there to fix it myself, still, the stopper won't move.

I'm starting to think my room is possessed by the devil.  And I didn't believe in the devil, until I checked in here.

By now I'm pissed.  So I'm going to have a glass of rum, watch a little, Comedy Central on TV and try to relax until dinner time.  Fat chance.  This hotel doesn't have cable.  They have Direct TV.  If  I'd wanted to NOT watch, Comedy Central?  I could have stayed home.

OK, I gotta get outta here for a while.  I'm going for a drive, see if this fantastic Italian place in Surfside, up on North Beach, where Deb and I had a great meal in 2003 on our FIRST trip to Cuba is still around.  And sure enough, it's still there.

Well, surely the promise of a fantastic meal in this place is going to make up for all the problems with the hotel.  This place was so good, I've been thinking about it for almost 10 years.  This will be the perfect end to an otherwise trying day.  As trying as a day can get when you are on vacation in Miami Beach, OK?

I get the car back to the valet, and go to tell Deb and Danny that I found the place.  I am so excited to have dinner there!  We all get ready, and call the valet to bring the car back to the front of the hotel.  After all, it was $25 a day to self park across the street, with a fee every time you went in or out, or $29 a day for the valet, with no other fees.

They bring the car back in a few minutes and I shit you not, the valet had changed the radio station.  Really?  I'm paying $30 a day for this service with my rental car, and you can't stand to listen to my Satellite Radio, Outlaw Country station for the two, fucking minutes it took you to drive across the street to the parking garage?  Really?  REALLY!  You had to give me back my car with some godawful, Latin, rap bullshit on the radio?  REALLY!

He's a little tip for anyone who hopes to grow up to one day be a valet.  I don't know, maybe you can't do math, can't speak English, walk with a limp, or just want to drive a bunch of great cars like, "Lambos", and Ferrari's, or my rental Chevy Impala, if even only for a block at a time.  THE VALET, UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES, FOR ANY REASON, IS EVER TO CHANGE THE FUCKING RADIO STATION!

I don't care if I give you that car in South Beach, and you have to park it in North Beach.  Keep you fingers off the radio!

I went in to have a little chat with the Holiday Inn manager, but they were conveniently, "In a meeting" at the time.  Well, tomorrow, there is a guy named, Julio, or Omar, or Jerry who's going to get a good talking too.

But I'm not up the roof with a rifle because Cafe  Ragazzi still exists.  If you ever get to this corner of the world, you should go to Surfside, which is a little community on North Beach.  It's on the corner of 95th Street and A1A, South bound.  And it's a little slice of heaven.

In October of 2003, Deb and I got a funky, art deco hotel in that area to spend a couple days down here before we went to Cuba.  And one night, we just drove up A1A and saw the Surfside Shops district, and pulled in, thinking we'd find a place to have a bite.  We parked next to a drug store that was just closing up, and the owner noticed the out of state plates on the rental car, and asked if we were from out of town.

We talked for a while, and she recommended the Italian place across the street.  And the rest is history.

I don't remember what we had that night.  But I remember that I thought I had wandered into a scene from, The Soprano's!  A lot of guys who looked like, Bobby, and, Big Pussy in silk, tropical shirts, with HUGE rings, and gold chains, and they all talked like the guys on the show.  I know I heard a lot of, "Forgetaboutit".  It was like you were waiting for a, "hit" to happen at any time.  But it turned out to be a couple of Italian family's having a birthday dinner.

And the food?  Well, how many restaurants have YOU eaten in that you remember for ten years?

Tonight, Danny had a shrimp Alfredo, and at one point he looked at me and said, "If I lived here, and it wasn't expensive?  I'd eat at this place every day."  Deb had a ravioli stuffed with mozzarella, covered in lobster and shrimp.  I had a ravioli stuffed with, mozzarella and a, "veal mousse".

Now, before I describe how awesome this was, I'm going to warn anyone going to my upcoming reunion, that if you see Deb (Butler) Hall beating the shit out of me on patio at Snowbird and screaming stuff like, "Not only is that the CRUELEST MEAT?  You ate, young cow, Pink Slime, you Rat Bastard!"  That she, as a vegetarian, and a close friend since we were 8 years old.  But sometimes has a problem with my food choices.  I'll leave it at that.

I have eaten on The Left Bank in Paris.  I have had a steak at most of America's finest steak houses.  I've had $1.25 hot dogs at, Gray's Papaya in New York City that were great.  Yeah, I've had the Pizza Bender at Italian Village, and Spent $1200 on dinner for 4 at Charlie Trotter's in Chicago.  But this might have been the best meal I have ever eaten.  It was so good, I couldn't believe it.  I was, in shock.

I washed it down with an Italian beer.  Pelegro, I believe.  Wow.  All I can say is, wow.

The flavor of this stuff was unbelievable.

And the atmosphere in this place?  Black shirts, ties and aprons.  The staff looked incredible, and you could almost hear the tourist/student/temporary visas expiring as we sat there.  The staff was VERY Italian.

At one point, I told my son, "You'll like the bartender", she looked like the Italian Model in the Fiat commercials.  His response?  "I noticed that, already".  Like, where you been, dad?

So, all in all?  A good day.  Check the pictures I posted on Facebook to see the beach.  And if you ever get here?  For any reason?  Don't miss, Cafe Ragazzi.  And whatever you do?  Don't stay at the Holiday Inn Miami Beach.

Late To Atlanta, And It's NOT Atlanta's Fault?

If you fly anywhere out of Salt Lake City, you will go through Atlanta.  A lot.  The first time I flew to Michigan, I went through Atlanta.  Louisville, via Atlanta.  Mexico and Belize?  Atlanta.

My friend, Lisa Landry, the comedian once posted about having to jump off the plane on the inflatable slides on a non-stop from Atlanta to Los Angeles when the plane couldn't get off the ground.

I told her the really interesting part of that story wasn't that she had to jump down the slide.  It was that she could fly coast to coast on Delta, and NOT have to go to Detroit, Cincinnati, or Salt Lake City!

Coming home next week, we fly from Havana, to Miami, to Detroit, to Salt Lake.

And I can't tell you how many connections we have missed because the weather in Atlanta is awful.  Ice storms. Thunder storms, you name it they have it.

So this afternoon, when we had only a half an hour to make our connection in Atlanta, with no hope of getting lunch, and very little hope or our luggage coming with us, I was very surprised that it was because of a problem in Salt Lake City.  Our plan got off a half hour late because of a mechanical problem they had trouble fixing.  Wow.

So, when we get to Atlanta, we're running to the next terminal and we do make the plane, last ones on.  But I'm pretty sure we will be sitting in the Miami airport for a while waiting for the next plane.  I was pleasantly surprised when the luggage beat us to the baggage claim.

But by the time we got to Miami, none of us had had anything to eat but airline peanuts, all day.  So despite what Jimmy Buffett said about, "The food at a Holiday Inn..." we ate here, and it was good.  Then it was time to let Danny see the beach.  Some how, he wasn't that impressed.

But he DID like the girls in South Beach.  So I think he's really going to like it tomorrow, when those girls are out on the beach.

So, Thursday is, "Beach Day".  Everglades on Friday.  So far, so good.

It's The Final Countdown To Cuba: Part Deaux

We fly out on Wednesday morning.  We will go to Miami for four days.  I want my son to see Miami Beach.  My wife wants to go BACK to Miami Beach.

I want my son to see the Everglades.  My wife would probably rather spend another day on Miami Beach, but she's a sport and knows how this is important.  That we show our son a different perspective on the world.  Some place he might never get to see again.

And being blind?  She's the one with The Golden Eagle Passport that gets us into that National Park free.

When you are spending almost $20K on the trip?  Every, "Twenty Bucks" helps.

Today, all the errands for Mom.  Keys made for neighbors?  Check.  Key made for the, "I've fallen and I can't get up" lock box on the back of the house?  Check.

And errands I had to run.  My fat ass needed some new, khaki slacks.  It appears we will have to dress like grown ups at least ONE night for dinner.

But I don't have enough weight limit on the luggage to pack a pair of shoes I'll wear once.  So it will be khaki's and sandals.

And this is funny.  KUER sent out a message that they had hundreds of baseballs donated by the, "U's" baseball team and, The Bees, that they wanted us to come up to the station to pick up and hand out to Cuban kids.  Great idea, right?

Well, the tour company has told us that they will only accept one bag of 44 pounds or less (which is six pounds, and another bag, less than Delta lets you have on international flights) and you can only have ONE carry on.  Or you will have to pay a dollar a pound, in cash for every pound over 44 you are.  And, two dollars for an extra carry on.

Baseballs weigh, what?  8 Oz's?  Eight is a pound. 16?  I'm taking my lap top, leaving the baseballs behind.

KUER, nice.  Nice gesture.  I LOVE the idea.  But  YOU get those baseballs to Miami?  And I'll put them in my pockets to take to Cuba.  Otherwise?  I'm thinking you didn't really think this through.

I think I might go ahead and take the computer.  I haven't decided, and won't until Wednesday morning.  I really want to have it in Florida.

At least.

I'm pretty sure this my last trip to Cuba.  Hope it's not my sons first and only.

I went to the Credit Union today to get some cash.  I guess we have to have a LOT of it in Cuba to get in and out of the country.  Cashed a brokerage firm check for $3K.  And tried to keep in as small of bills I could.

Ester at at Mountain America Credit Union in Murray is awesome.  She broke it all down for me in what I needed.  Mostly small bills. 

So, Tuesday is the day I will be filling the shampoo bottle, checking the shaving kit, putting clothes in the bag and getting ready to leave.

I hope it's as amazing for my son, and it is exhausting me.  Not to mention what Deb is dealing with.

These, "Epic" trips every year?  Are getting old.  I think it's time to look into a trailer, or a cabin.  I've SEEN the world.  Like some of it.  Like the Caribbean best.  Like Tucson.  Like Utah Mountains and desert.  Might like to stay here more.

Just thinking...

Welcome To Florida. The Icky Water State

As my friend, Jim would say.  And he's not all wrong.  A lot of the water in Florida is scary looking.  It doesn't look like death in and of itself, like, Lake Michigan.  But it's what's IN the water that makes you nervous.

We leave really, really early on Wednesday morning to fly from mountainous, desert, mostly dry Utah to Miami.

My son has never been to Florida.  His older sister has.  She doesn't want to go back.  She's too old for Disney World, and too Autistic to deal with Miami.

We don't move to the hotel with our Cuban tour group until Sunday, and we fly to Cuba on Monday.  So we will have four days in Miami.  And I got us a hotel right on Miami beach.  Used my Intercontinental Points to get it cheap too.  Yeah, it's a Holiday Inn, and that's good enough for me.

So, we will have four days where Deb and I will enjoy the great restaurants, and the beach.  And my son will be glued to the beach, where acres of Jennifer Lopez look alike's will be lying in the sand.  THONGS in the key of life.  He's 16.  I'm going to keep pouring water over his head so it doesn't explode.  Cold, cold, water.

In preparation for this trip, I made him sit with his mother and I and watch a NatGeo Channel show about the Everglades and the Crocodiles and Alligators that live there.  How the Salt Water Crocodiles can EAT in the ocean, but have to come back into, "The Glades" to drink fresh water, etc.

Trying to get the kid to pick up some smarts, any way I can.

He watched this, and said, "Why would anyone want to go THERE!?"

His mother and I tried to explain to him that we want him to see it because it's so different from here, where he grew up.  Mountains/deserts/dry, vs. flat/water/grass/ocean.  That it was a National Park.  That he could learn a lot.

Yada, yada, yada.  He was not interested.

By now, I'm getting pissed.  I've taken this kid to Paris,  Washington DC, New York, Chicago, Boston, Minneapolis, Los Angeles, San Fransisco, Las Vegas tons of times.  And even to Mexico.  He's 16 and he's on his second Passport.  I didn't get my first one until I was almost 40.

I finally just said to him, "Well, we're going because I want to go back and see it again.  And the other reason the Everglades is so interesting?  Everything that lives there can kill you.  So stay on the path."

And then I just shut up, and turned the channel to, Comedy Central.

I'm pretty sure I made my point.

And I'm really sure I'm going to blow his mind this week.  And after that?  He's going to freaking, CUBA!

I'm either the father of the century?  Or I'm terrifying my kid.  I guess I'll know by the time we get back to SLC.