Cuba Libre

Havana, Cuba

What's up everybody? So, it's been about five months since I've
written you all last. During that time I've mostly been working on the boat,
the details of which I'll not bore you with, since you all either are working on
the boat, have worked on the boat at some point, or have heard me talk about it
so much that it feels like you've worked on the boat. Anyway, I finished with
that for now, having earned enough money (I hope) to make it through the last
two quarters of my schooling. I have now a free three weeks before I need to be
home for Christmas (My mother's made it very clear that since I'll be in the
hemisphere this year, that I should at least be home for that) and three weeks,
I decided, is plenty of time for an ill advised adventure to Cuba. So without
any real preparation or thought about my trip, besides buying plane tickets, a
real pain in the ass since you I had to fly through the Bahamas, I find myself
in the middle of Havana writing you all this email.

As hostels don't really seem to be an option in Cuba, at least not so far, and
since the Cuba book that I bought is probably languishing amongst Bob Marley
cd's and Doritos bags in the dregs of my friend's car in Olympia, I guess I
really wouldn't know. So, I'm staying with a family. It's difficult to move
50ft in Havana viejo, the old touristy part of Havana, without some guy asking
you if you need any number of the plethora of services he can provide, ie. rooms,
drugs, women, tours, etc. After finding that all the hotels were at least 50
bucks a night, I let one of the hustlers take me to a family who rents a room
for 25 bucks a night. I'm sure that I can find one for less, but I like the old
lady who runs it, it feels fairly secure, and it's only a couple of blocks off
the main drag of old Havana. The guy, in return for finding me this place,
asked only that I buy him a thing of powdered milk for his son. Sure, why not,
I thought. At least it's for a good cause, and it can't be that expensive, so
when his Uncle, who had been tagging along asked for one as well, I said no
problem. I strode up to the counter in the store and confidently asked for two cans of their finest powdered milk. The cashier said, that'll be $11.50. Uh, make that
one.

Old Havana is beautiful. Narrow streets run between buildings with old colonial
arches, tall dark wood store fronts, and second floor balconies with iron work
reminiscent of the French quarter in New Orleans. Since this part of town is
UNESCO protected, they've done an admirable job restoring the buildings here,
but as soon as you leave this part of town, they fade quickly into crumbled
glory, and the wide streets become a playground of cars from my father's
childhood. How the people here have managed to keep these cars running for all
these years is beyond me, but the streets of Havana look like an old gangster
movie, with a few nondescript eastern European cars thrown in for good measure.
Night in Old Havana is exactly how I pictured it. Cuban salsa, flamenco, and
meringue wafts through the wooden lattice work out of every restaurant and bar.
Mojitos and Cuba Libres flowing, while people enjoy the food and atmosphere (all
right, I'm starting to sound like a restaurant guide). Anyway, last night
happened upon a flamenco show. A five piece band played and sang while a man
and a women first alternately danced and then together to the rythems of the
music. They flung their heels about with reckless abandon while their hands delicately floated through the air, smiling all the while. I've never been so impressed with a man in heels.

Anyway, I think that this is enough for now. My brother, Wil, will be joining
me later today, assuming everything goes as planned, and we will be wandering about
Cuba for three weeks. So, you will, as usual, be able to look forward to a few
more of my emails. I hope that this message finds everyone well. Ciao, Moe.