Sunday, February 19, 2017
The bakery. Aurelio y Roberto. (I took too many photos here – it was a highlight in a trip of lights all at the same height – so I’m taking out this snippet and I’ll post separately with the pictures.) The bread went mostly to kids – one on the street who kept looking at us and the rest to kids playing football, the next story below...
Guys playing fútbol at Area Deportiva El Cristo. EVERY time we stopped to look at football or baseball the young fella has been asked if he wanted to play too. Amazing, wouldn’t happen anywhere else. Was high-fiving the other kids by the end. They’d asked his name straight away.
Mojitos at the same bar where we watched Atleti on the first day. Wrote couple postcards, he watched Barça. Waiter mad friendly, again just like we’d known each other all our lives. Maybe we have.
Back to the same Asturian place for dinner. Uneventful. Then when waiting for the bill, the original waiter came out, recognized me, big hello and smile, hand out for a handshake, and on his way. Was same when met a woman who was on the same bus from Playa Larga to Varadero earlier – just another chance meeting – she greeted us like long lost friends. Cubans are just friends you haven’t met yet.
3 mojitos, or was it 4?
Monday, February 13, 2017
Two Cubans said it was gonna rain tomorrow so we did well to make another beach stop today.
“When d’ya wanna come back?”
“Next winter maybe.” *Keeps digging and humming*
At Fortaleza de San Carlos de la Cabaña waiting for the military ceremony over Havana Bay. Standing beside a group of Americans, just realized their ruler/chief representative on this planet is Trump. Fuck. Visited the Museo de Comandancia del Che. I’m sure he’d say fuck too.
We’ve seen Venus overhead every night. She’s been overlooking our time in Cuba. Venus in Fidel’s furs.
Bus driver from the fort was a comedian. Complimented me on my Spanish, muy bien, más o menos. Told him it was más menos que más. He was cracking jokes all the way back to Habana. Had a voice like honey, could have listened forever. And he was so friendly. It seemed he was genuinely sorry to see us leave the bus, called me his friend, told us to be careful. Total gentleman.
Malecón again for dinner. A late one. Cuban place. We both agree the birds in the cages should be free, like us.
Malecón jammed with people. Saturday night. Couples smooching, friends chatting, guitarists serenading, families strolling. All the action’s at Malecón! But it’s horrible with six lanes of traffic beside it. Still, a brilliant snapshot of la vida Habanero.
3 mojitos, 1 piña colada.