That niggling little feeling I had at the back of my throat yesterday woke me up with a ball-busting bang today. I felt like turd wrapped in shit. And to cap it off, this was the day we were apparently doing some kind of nature hike in the searing heat. Determined not to let a little sickness get in the way of my Cuban experience, I threw my wide sun hat on and lathered myself with sunscreen.
I also had discovered that my favourite little green Brazilian style bikini was missing from my bag and I remembered I'd left it hanging to dry in the bathroom after I'd run myself a bath in Havana. Dammit! Good luck getting that one back... I asked A to call the hotel but when I came down in the morning, he said they'd not found out. Just another thing to add to my list of lost shit.
We drove back into town to meet the walking guide, who was running late so we walked to meet him with the other tourists he was taking out. It wasn't a hard hike but I just felt so shit, coughing and spluttering at the back of the group. We went through some agricultural land, mainly tobacco, and saw how the smaller operations work. The whole Cuban cigar thing is interesting - while I don't smoke nor like anything about the addiction, it is a huge and famous industry in this country and in a way fascinating to see behind the scenes.
In a little hut owned by the farmers, the 'duena' (boss lady) of the house demonstrated how to roll a cigar and then passed it around to smoke. No thanks. You want to buy? No thanks. Afterwards, we walked through a mountain (just a cheeky few stairs up and into a cave that used to be used to hide from hurricanes) and into more farmland for cattle, all green and lush. At another little shack we stopped for cocoloco, a freshly cut coconut with honey and rum. I thought it was only be a smart decision, since alcohol and honey could only be good for my throat. It tasted good.
It was still hot and we were still walking. The guide was good, entertaining and spoke fluent English. We stopped at another house offering more drinks. You want to buy? No thanks. Geez! Then it was over. The guide asked us if we'd paid and since the relaying of information from our guide to the group seemed strained to say the least, we all assumed it was included in the price. The longest 1.5 hours I've ever seen, we finished just in time for lunch and drove to our (included? Who knows) lunch. I had pushed on too long. The heat and the sickness overcame me and I just burst into tears. What the fuck is wrong with me?? I sat out on the stairs (in the direct sunlight, smart girl) and regrouped before having something to eat and drink to at least fill my stomach. Nothing like a bit of lobster to set your stomach straight.
Thankfully, there were no other activities on the agenda we I was able to head back to my hotel room for a siesta. L had the same idea so we drew the curtains and fell onto our beds. Soon enough, it was dinner time again and we were off to the cute little cottage near the hotel. Something was cooking up a storm on the grill outside, we took bets as to which animal it was... we never figured it out. Again, it was the same choices for the menu... I guess this is what they mean about Cuban food being bland. It's not so much bland as monotonous. And it doesn't help that our included meals all consisted of pretty much a set menu. But any country following the Mexican banquet must struggle to compete.
A didn't accompany us to dinner this time, as his baby girl was ill back in Havana. Without him, we finished dinner and were driven into town for another night at the same bar as the previous night. Again, there was lots of live music, including a full band, solo singers and a dance troupe. Not as hot as the night before, but still entertaining. Some intriguing costumes too... the token male was all frills and bells and whistles. Hard to really believe he enjoyed dancing with members of the opposite sex.
I danced and sweated and danced some more. This time, however, without our guide we sat with some of the other local guides that we met the night before. The group peeled off until it was just me and the older New Zealand woman, a rough but well-meaning lady. Last night she had become a bit hard to handle after a few drinks so I took on the responsibility to take care of her this night, and before I knew it, it was just the 2 of us and we actually stayed until the place closed (only about 1 from memory). But because A wasn't there, we had to organise our own transport, which proved a little more difficult than expected. Some nice locals tried to call a cab but we ended up flagging down a car that seemed to be operating as a taxi, and get a lift back to the hotel, a good 15 minutes away. Not before verbally slapping P to sort her shit out... I tolerate little bullshit. But most importantly, I was most chuffed that I had made it through the day alive.
I also had discovered that my favourite little green Brazilian style bikini was missing from my bag and I remembered I'd left it hanging to dry in the bathroom after I'd run myself a bath in Havana. Dammit! Good luck getting that one back... I asked A to call the hotel but when I came down in the morning, he said they'd not found out. Just another thing to add to my list of lost shit.
We drove back into town to meet the walking guide, who was running late so we walked to meet him with the other tourists he was taking out. It wasn't a hard hike but I just felt so shit, coughing and spluttering at the back of the group. We went through some agricultural land, mainly tobacco, and saw how the smaller operations work. The whole Cuban cigar thing is interesting - while I don't smoke nor like anything about the addiction, it is a huge and famous industry in this country and in a way fascinating to see behind the scenes.
In a little hut owned by the farmers, the 'duena' (boss lady) of the house demonstrated how to roll a cigar and then passed it around to smoke. No thanks. You want to buy? No thanks. Afterwards, we walked through a mountain (just a cheeky few stairs up and into a cave that used to be used to hide from hurricanes) and into more farmland for cattle, all green and lush. At another little shack we stopped for cocoloco, a freshly cut coconut with honey and rum. I thought it was only be a smart decision, since alcohol and honey could only be good for my throat. It tasted good.
It was still hot and we were still walking. The guide was good, entertaining and spoke fluent English. We stopped at another house offering more drinks. You want to buy? No thanks. Geez! Then it was over. The guide asked us if we'd paid and since the relaying of information from our guide to the group seemed strained to say the least, we all assumed it was included in the price. The longest 1.5 hours I've ever seen, we finished just in time for lunch and drove to our (included? Who knows) lunch. I had pushed on too long. The heat and the sickness overcame me and I just burst into tears. What the fuck is wrong with me?? I sat out on the stairs (in the direct sunlight, smart girl) and regrouped before having something to eat and drink to at least fill my stomach. Nothing like a bit of lobster to set your stomach straight.
Thankfully, there were no other activities on the agenda we I was able to head back to my hotel room for a siesta. L had the same idea so we drew the curtains and fell onto our beds. Soon enough, it was dinner time again and we were off to the cute little cottage near the hotel. Something was cooking up a storm on the grill outside, we took bets as to which animal it was... we never figured it out. Again, it was the same choices for the menu... I guess this is what they mean about Cuban food being bland. It's not so much bland as monotonous. And it doesn't help that our included meals all consisted of pretty much a set menu. But any country following the Mexican banquet must struggle to compete.
A didn't accompany us to dinner this time, as his baby girl was ill back in Havana. Without him, we finished dinner and were driven into town for another night at the same bar as the previous night. Again, there was lots of live music, including a full band, solo singers and a dance troupe. Not as hot as the night before, but still entertaining. Some intriguing costumes too... the token male was all frills and bells and whistles. Hard to really believe he enjoyed dancing with members of the opposite sex.
I danced and sweated and danced some more. This time, however, without our guide we sat with some of the other local guides that we met the night before. The group peeled off until it was just me and the older New Zealand woman, a rough but well-meaning lady. Last night she had become a bit hard to handle after a few drinks so I took on the responsibility to take care of her this night, and before I knew it, it was just the 2 of us and we actually stayed until the place closed (only about 1 from memory). But because A wasn't there, we had to organise our own transport, which proved a little more difficult than expected. Some nice locals tried to call a cab but we ended up flagging down a car that seemed to be operating as a taxi, and get a lift back to the hotel, a good 15 minutes away. Not before verbally slapping P to sort her shit out... I tolerate little bullshit. But most importantly, I was most chuffed that I had made it through the day alive.
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