I woke up and remembered, HOLA BITCHES I'M IN CUBA!! Fuck yeah! I sprung out of bed and got ready for la playa, the beach mutha fukka, Santa Maria to be exact. The help provided a refreshing fruit salad for breakfast and not much in the way of conversation (I assume her accent was the equivalent of bogan Spanish), moved rooms to what looked suspiciously like the couple's room who owned the house. I was primed and ready to go - but first the internet.
In Cuba, the internet is not a widespread commodity - no surprises there - so I had to walk to one of the 5-star hotels and purchase a 1-hour card for $6. I used half of it to contact loved ones, and send a nice birthday message to my ex (to which I got no reply - well, at least one of us is still nice!), took some photos of the cool cars (which now roamed the streets) and headed off to the beach.
Easily enough I got to Santa Maria, a long beach packed with summer holidaymakers cramming onto the beach chairs and umbrellas. I wandered along, checking for pockets of hot people or maybe some promising sightseeing in the water, and soon realised practically everywhere was a good vantage point. These people are beautiful! I settled onto a chair and grabbed a $2 pina colada, sighed a breath of relief that I had nothing in the world to worry about at that point in time. Except where my waiter was.
I accidentally caught the eye of a white man in his 40s, well kept for his age but of no interest to me, and soon enough he was near me asking if I needed help rubbing my sunscreen in, and I made the stupid decision not to be rude when he asked if he was bothering me. He tried to buy me a drink (the first and only time this happened in Cuba) but I know 1 drink = min 5 mins of small talk. And I wasn't having it.
I went to the water to have a breather and that's where I met Rene. A beautiful black guy with washboard abs and a cheeky smile. He waded over to me and in my version of Spanish, somehow arranged for us to meet at Tropicana that night. I'd heard about the club, the best cabaret place in Havana apparently, and out of the corner of my eye I saw the older guy hanging about. Urgh, give it up man!
I came out of the water and took to reading my book - American Psycho, just for some light holiday fun. The older guy sat next to me, split my beer actually, and kept trying to talk to me. I was not even bothering not being rude anymore, I was blatantly ignoring him. Then he reached over and kissed my arm, and that was it. Fuck off! Leave me alone! Douchebag.
R and I waited for the bus and I jumped on just before the rain started, planning to meet again later in the evening outside the fancy hotels. He got the locals way home, which I think costs about one-tenth of what we pay (even though we only pay $5 for a return). I used the spare hours to dry myself off and asked E where a good place to eat was. She rang her friend to check if they were open in the rain, and directed me around the block to a door I was meant to knock on.
It was easy enough to find and before I knew it, I was being led up a long staircase, past what was clearly someone's house and up to the rooftop level with tables and a couple of guys tuning guitars. Even though I was the only one there to play to at that stage. I sat down and was told there was all sorts of meats, including turtle (not sure how I feel about that), and was just ordering my cocktail when I heard another girl sit down behind me. I thought I heard the word "Australia" so I turned to look, but she looked more Lebanese or Middle Eastern. I looked again, caught her eye and asked if she was Aussie. She said yes and motioned me to sit with her.
We got chatting, she was a cool chick with her head screwed on. She was travelling alone but seemed to be doing a good job of it. I must say, it does seem a lot easier to get around than I was expecting. Cuba must be getting a lot more tourist-friendly. So we had a good chat, planned to meet the next day to go to the beach, and went off to meet our respective Cuban friends we'd made plans with that day.
I went off to make myself look pretty and soon found myself waiting for R outside the Ingleterra, an ironic situation if you knew the significance of 20 July and the meaning of the Ingleterra and me waiting for essentially the first date I'd had in a couple of years. Anyway… So he turned up, looking sweet, and instantly he told me that we couldn't do Tropicana because of the weather (it was largely outdoor), so we went to another place near the beach instead - which, weirdly enough, was also mostly outdoor. So who knows the real reason why we didn't do Tropicana.
Probably a good thing, in hindsight. Because this whole, foreigner pays for local thing really did seem to be the way it goes over there. If we'd gone to Tropicana, I'd have been expected to pay that. Expected as in asked, but not necessarily done. First he hails a cab to get there, asking if the price was OK, I'm wondering why then realise it's cos I'm paying. Fine, just a cab ride. Then it was "$5 and $5" for entry, so I guess I pay for that - but not before pulling him aside to clarify, in bad Spanish, just what the hell this was about - and then the drinks inside. I'd really have had a problem if the rounds came to more than $3 each time. Ha!
The club had some Cuban pop band playing, apparently pretty hot property, but really they were hilariously camp and a kinda bad Spanish version One Direction - already a bad entity in itself. 3 boys with over-styled hair, tight shirts and cheesy choreography crooning with almost obvious distain to members of the opposite sex. R was loving it, while drinking the beers I bought him and in between telling me "Te amo te amo" - not sure which part was more of a turn-off. All I knew was that I was NOT taking this guy home - despite the fact I wasn't allowed, I wasn't interested.
This was the first time I realised Cuban men are only good for looking at.
I called it a night about 3am, when our taxi was meant to be waiting outside, but when it wasn't, we joined the throng out on the street waiting for something to take us back to town (a good 20-30 minute ride). R tricked me into kissing him, not an entirely bad thing, but still I was really not into him anymore, the gloss had definitely faded, so when we finally caught a lift off a random Cuban couple I was pretty relieved. He walked me back to the hostel and I bid him goodnight, saying yeah sure I'll see you at the beach tomorrow…….
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