Farewell Sweet Cuba!

Earlier on in the week we caught a few of the shows, which varied widely in the quality of entertainment. We were especially impressed with the acrobats, but the boys went back to the rooms to play a board game.



At the end of every show the performers would do the "Iberostar Dance", which was actually quite catchy. It's kind of fun to yell, "One, two, three, TOMA!" and kick your leg in the air, especially when, for all you know, you could be yelling, "Nosehair!" or "Pinch me!" or "Hot Sauce!" (Okay, I googled it. The free Spanish to English translator says it means "It takes", which makes no sense. I'd rather be yelling, "Hot sauce!")



We spent as much time as humanly possible playing in the ocean waves. The last couple of days it was very windy and the waves were enormous and incredibly fun.





I am having the time of my life here. I love the ocean!



Paul and I decided that we wanted a photo of the two of us jumping up into a huge wave. We waited carefully for a good one and jumped for it. It turned out to be a much bigger wave than we'd anticipated and it tumbled us both head over heels through the water for a pretty good distance. When I came to a stop my legs and arms were out of the water, my head was underwater and I was sitting on something solid. I was just starting to get my bearings when something poked me rather insistently in the right hip. It turns out that I had come to a stop on top of Paul's head! The resulting photo:



One day we decided to go into Varadero and visit the Art Market. We got instructions for the big red double-decker bus but a passing taxi driver convinced us to go with him for the same price and half the time. We didn't realize that half the time was double the speed! (I have made this mistake before. "Earl's size" does not mean double the glass size.) The limit was 60 mph and he turned off his spedometer (yes, turned off, along with all other accessories) at 120 mph while passing a bus in oncoming traffic. I just gave up and closed my eyes. We bought some paintings, Paul got a shirt, I got a bandana, and we all bought Che hats and many gifts for our families. Unfortunately, but as planned, our cabbie came back to retrieve us. There are no photos as I was busy staring in horror at the speedskater on the road roughly an inch ahead of our bumper.









I adore this carving of salsa dancers. Later that night Paul and I did some salsa dancing at the disco (I love that they call it "The Disco").



Kristy gets a little closer to Juan Alberto.



There were SWINGS at the disco! That would never happen in Canada.



I went up to get a drink and suddenly two people came dancing down the bar, followed by two more. The lead guy stopped in front of me and, still gyrating to the music, took off his shirt. The bartender handed me my drink between his legs. They danced up there for a while then partied back down the bar and hopped off.



Things got a little crazy at the disco.



We certainly had a good time.



Amanda and Paul smoked their cigars on the beach. (Bleh.)



Sunset on our last night in Cuba.



The message on our bed the night before we left Cuba.



One last photo, in the airport. So last minute that Leslie and Mark have boarded the plane already.



Adiós Cuba; le faltaré. Espero volverme otra vez para visitar un día.

Catamaran Tour

Since we could only afford to go on two day-trips, Paul and I carefully selected the Havana tour and the Catamaran Tour.







In rained the morning of the Catamaran tour, and by rained I mean poured as if the ocean had been sucked up and was being forced at us from all directions. This was serious rain. Luckily, by the time we were ready to board all that remained were cloudy skies and turbulent waters.

I enjoyed riding facedown on the net at the front of the vessel with the wind whipping my face and the waves splashing on my shirt front.







Our first stop was for snorkelling in a small reef off the boat. To be honest I was unimpressed with the snorkelling, in part due to the ineffectiveness of my old snorkel and the turbidity of the waters.







A passing fishing boat, likely containing Cuban fisherman who were annoyed by the rowdy drunken Canadians.







The next, and best, stop was at a huge enclosure out in the ocean. This was where we got to swim with the dolphins! The dolphins can actually leave the enclosure at any time, but choose to stay where they are fed.







First the dolphins did some tricks, then swim past so we could rub their bellies. Then they circled back around to give us "kisses".







Finally we posed with the dolphins and a man took our photo. He later brought the photo to the hotel so we could buy a copy for 10 pesos. That's the best 12 bucks I have ever spent; what a great photo for our anniversary.

Soon we were off and arrived at Cayo Blanco for another traditional cuban meal. We weren't exactly sure how buns and hashbrowns constituted a 'traditional cuban meal' but we decided that this unidentified item was deep-fried sea horse.

We played in the ocean for a while and then it was time to board the Catamaran again. The way back to our resort was filled with excitement: we had a visitor!

(It's hard to get a good photo of a wild dolphin pacing the boat when everyone rushes the rail.)

In keeping with our "Cuban tradition", the catamaran had an open bar. The combination of Cuba Libre (rum and coke with lime) and hours in the sun meant that we were in for some good entertainment on the ride back.

Sue telling stories.

Dance party on the boat!

It may just look like I'm squinting in the sun and happy about dolphins, but actually Amanda had just done a pole dance for me and then tried to drive the boat. She was quite intoxicated and screaming at the top of her lungs, "Whoooo! I'm a doctor! Whooo!" while dancing with her pole. Among other things, this trip was to celebrate her graduation from medical school.

The only reason you're not seeing photos is she is very very embarrased about it.

Alright, fine. Just one photo.

This particular sexy move apparently involved kneeing Graeme in the head. (Gotta love her!)

Havana

There was absolutely no way I was going all the way to Cuba without some kind of cultural experience. While staying at the resort was nice, it's just not the kind of traveller I am. Fortunately we were able to sign up for a walking tour of Old Havana, including a traditional Cuban meal, followed by some free time in the arts market and a quick drive-by tour of New Havana.



The most immediately noticeable thing about Havana was the buildings. Everything was full of color and life, incredibly vibrant, even the buildings that were falling down.





The streets were filled with beautiful oddities: a woman crocheting sweaters, a canopied bicycle, a man painting in the street, an enormous woman in a fluffy white dress selling fortunes and a wiener dog in a mesh shirt waiting for a ride.











This sweet little girl yelled "Ola!" cheerfully to all the pasty white folk who passed.







The people of Havana leave flowers for Mother Theresa on her book every morning.



According to our tour guide, Louis, Cuban citizens are given a very minimal amount of money for doing their job, barely enough to stay alive. Everyone gets the same amount, whether they are a doctor or street sweeper. In order to get by, everyone takes on second jobs or more. The best way to make money is to work where there are tips, like at the resorts (which is why sometimes the person bringing you wine could be a doctor).

The impression that I got was that the minimum standard of living is higher than in Canada, but the average is much, much lower. Knowing that there was need, we brought along toiletries to give to the maids in the resort, and we tipped plentifully where ever we went. I also brought a big bag of school supplies with me to Havana and asked Louis where a good place to donate them would be. Louis went above and beyond and took us to a nearby primary school. He gave the bag of nylons that I'd brought to the principal to distribute to the teachers. She then arranged for us to go into a classroom upstairs and they brought about a dozen students from each class through and we handed out the supplies to them.



The principal asked us to only give one item to each child, but what use is a pencil sharpener without a pencil, or pastels without paper? (You can see in the photo above, I'm sneaking this litle guy a sharpener.) Soon all of the goodies were gone and they led the disappointed stragglers away. My heart was just breaking that I hadn't brought more, that some children went without even these small inexpensive items. But as we walked back through the school to the street I saw that in the classrooms the children were all sharing the goodies with the rest of the class, without any sign of greed. This was the best part of the trip, for me. (If I ever go again I am bringing only the following: one giant bottle of sunscreen, camera, bathing suit, one shirt, one pair of shorts, chacos, and a giant suitcase full of the best school and medical supplies I can find. As a chronic over-packer, this is saying a lot.)



These women are paid by the government to wander the streets of Havana and kiss tourists for photos. They then demand "one cuban convertible" from the unsuspecting tourist. The male version of these women is in the background in the photo of the man painting on the side of the street above.



Louis then turned us loose in the arts market for 45 minutes, which wasn't nearly enough time. We wandered through a small city of stalls, examining the wares and fending off beggars who thought we should give them "souvenir for my baby" or money for having a Canada flag tattoo or 5 pesos to braid my hair (clearly they have not met my hair).





We picked up a little turtle carving, some carved Havana rum coasters and this painting, from perhaps the most laid-back man in the entire market, which we paid 10 pesos for and an arm and a leg to have framed in Canada.

All too soon we were running for the van and on our way to New Havana.

The view from the Capitol building.

Revolucion square.

Of course, you can't go to Cuba and miss out on having your photo taken with Che.