No Buenavista Social Club for me :(

Last day of my Cuba tour and I must say, I am ready to go home. Back to my new work responsibilities and back to the new challenges my life now had - boy, what a change! But all that aside, I was also happy to be back in Havana. It was a comforting city, and since it was where I started my Cuban experience, was a fitting place to end it as well.

It was a long drive back to the city from Trinidad, truncated by a drive-by tour of Cienfuegos where we learnt some quick history via the on-board mic (so interesting I can't remember a scrap of it now). We pulled over at one point to see the world's smallest bird, a hummingbird, and snap some pics. I really need to invest in a bigger lense, that thing was quite tiny! Looked almost the same as the dragonfly it was sharing a electricity cable with.

We quickly stopped at the place we usually eat, but since the timing was out we were due to eat at another place further along. I was really starting to feel the pinch in my wallet, so was getting increasingly frustrated at how EVERYBODY wanted a piece of you - tip-wise, I mean. I couldn't even go to the bloody toilet without giving her something! (I went anyway). There was a small farm with the Cuban version of a crocodile, but I wasn't about to pay to see that.

The place we actually stopped for lunch also had a bunch of animals, but more of a farm, with turkeys, chickens, lots of guinea pigs and of course another bull - to ride. In fact, the guinea pig became the key ingredient in a game to raise money for the farm when he put it in a box and spun it around, then let it go to a certain box with a prize, or not. Of course no prize but it was quite entertaining. Lunch was uneventful, actually the most memorable thing was that they actually ASKED if we wanted music while we ate and we said no. Over it.

We went to Havana for one last time, one last night, and it was straight into a final walking tour. A little bit out of whack, being the last night of the tour and all, but I guess it's better than nothing. It was back to the same hotel, this time firmly remembering to keep my bikini in my bag, and we were greeted with some bad news. The dinner that had been promised to us at the pub where members of the Buenavista Social Club play each night was not going to happen. Apparently, the tour company forgot to book it. What a fucking surprise. So all this time I was getting excited that not only I'd get to see Buenavista Social Club but also that I didn't have to pay - what a way to end my time in Cuba! Now... pissed off was an understatement. The pub was sold out, there was no other way in.

Some down-time at the hotel found me watching the only English program I could find, Dexter (not entirely a bad choice), so I watched that for a bit before getting dressed in my pretty Mexican dress for the finale evening. We were taken to an alternative restaurant, very nice with a piano jazz band, but not Buenavista Social Club. We had a nice dinner and I even had a dance with one of the waiters, the owner of a very beautiful jawline, but it wasn't Buenavista Social Club. We passed over our tip envelopes to the driver and guide, mine supplemented by P but still not that bulky (do you blame us?) and funnily enough, they disappeared soon after. We never saw them again.

Being the last night, we wanted to go out some more so we grabbed another drink at Plaza Vieja, the same beer house I went to the first night I was in Havana pre-tour. That was boring so we moved on to Cafe Paris, which sounded like it was still happening. We sat down and within one song they were passing a tip jar past us - arrgghhh, for fuck's sake!! With our disinterest, the band soon stopped playing. Awesome.

I could tell P was getting a bit drunk and rowdy again, and I wasn't really feeling it. Still stinging from the lack of BVSC, I just felt like going home. And to be perfectly boringly honest, I was starting to look forward to going home and getting stuck into my new management position. I left the others to do their thing and headed back to the hotel. Ahh, the soft, sweet folds of 5-star luxury... better soak it up while it lasts.

What is it with me and bikers??

11.11.11. I should always remember what I was doing on that day. Just like I should remember what I was doing on 10.10.10. Hmmm... I guess I was in Slovenia?? Yeah, real memorable that was.

But this time, I'm sure I will remember because it was St Maarten's Day, and just like in Australia the whole island got a day off. Well, except for me. Which is fine, since technically I shouldn't be given a day off to celebrate a country that I have no affinity with whatsoever. So I worked.

Well, I didn't start by working exactly... I was at work by 7am but we were readying ourselves to ride to the monument that divides the Dutch and French side, where there was official business to be done for St Maarten's Day. Not before the horses all escaped their pen early and we had to round them all in again though!! I told them to fix that fence... So, finally, we rode there, me on Rocco again (who loves to kick the others but is otherwise a very good horse) and 6 others all in matching red, white and blue t-shirts.

The procession was simple enuf, although the sight of firearms on one section of marching police meant that some of us dismounted in case they fired into the air and freaked the horses out... that didn't happen, though, so on we leapt and back towards home in the wake of the motorcycle policemen and busloads of goverment officials. I had no idea what was going on, all I know is that the band they had playing the national anthem was SHIT.

My legs were a little itchy from the pummelling they received last night from the mosquitoes... man, they ATTACKED!! Couldn't sleep with a sheet cos it was too hot without the fan (because the electricity wasn't working when I went to bed), and when I woke and the fan was working again, I was literally scathing with scratches... it was hideous.

Work was soooo dead today, we had 1 booked ride which didn't turn up and so I just wandered around doing every measly job R assigned me super slow, cos there was nothing else to do. I asked if I should use the spare time to train young Chico in the water, to which I got minimal response... not quite sure why that is, but a short while later Ju, who does the handyman work, was jumping on Chico and taking him out for a ride. Hmmm....

Finally, a French lady friends with the other French lady that boards her horse at the stables came for a ride. She had been before and enjoyed it, so wanted to come back to have another go. Still beginner, I put her on a careful horse and we took it easy. So it was a little surprising when I asked her if she enjoyed it, she said that last ride they did a bit more "interesting" stuf and it was a little slow. Fuck that woman, you can't ride and you paid (locals rate) for a one-hour walking trail. So that's what you get, you tightass-no-tipping-French-person. No time for them.

Also had absolutely no time for all the holidaymakers on the beach for their day off... which included some seedy men checking me out and making my attempt at having a lunch break swim impossible. Gross. I could feel them looking, and I wasn't showing myself off either. One tried to speak with me and when I was curt, he asked why I was annoyed... I told him I just wanted to be left alone, and he apologised, trying to make me feel bad for hassling me. Oh just fuck off, it ain't gonna work. No one at work was game to speak with me, I had to explain to the girls it wasn't them I was annoyed at...

Was told just before that ride that we had a few interested people from the local bikers club who had hired out the place for a St Maartens Day party, and wanted to ride. So I quickly fed the horses and sorted them out to do a nighttime ride with these hooligans. R came to help just when I'd finished and was amazed that it was all done already. I kindly reminded him that I did not come from the Caribbean so things get done when they need to with me.

Soon enuf, the Harleys started blazing in, parking on our front lawn in droves, all clad in black leather and matching t-shirts. As menacing as bikey gangs go, these guys were midscale, but the sheer number of them surprised me. Probably about 100, all looking for some beers and music, the latter of which we couldn't supply until someone physically drove to Ju's place to get his DJ gear because our sound system decided to konk out on us.

I hung around, chatting to some bikers and trying to avoid the drunk old man hanging at the bar giving me life advice - "Always take the money" thanks gramps - before the lady organising the event broke the news that she and the other organiser were the only ones keen to go riding, and they weren't allowed since they were controlling the event. Ahh, women, what would we do without them??

So I unsaddled all the horses and finished things up for the night, still sweating. God, when does it end!?! They insisted on giving me the tips they'd have given me to take them, as an apology to not going for the ride - I refused at first because I felt bad (the bar girls went crazy - take the money, take the money!!) but then they spoke to R and he said to give it to me so I took it. Easiest $40 I ever made. From memory.

Then the bellydancers came. Always a big fan of bellydancers, I was glued to the show taking photos and mental notes about how I need to dance when I do a bellydancing burlesque routine... then I came across L with his son (previously thought to be a daughter), who turns out to have the child with one of the biker women. It'd been a while since we'd had a catch-up so we drank a few beers before things wound down for the biker event, and I called it a night. About this time I found out aforementioned old drunk man was the boss' father. Ha! Wonder if he'd think it was inappropriate that he was suggesting I just "sit with him in the shower"... gross.

It was kinda cool seeing Seaside like that though, with bonfire blazing on the beach and Harleys parked all over the lawn, leather jacket-clad men and women dancing with bellydancers and a tip jar in the corner of the bar. (now that's unusual!). Was a bit of fun, and once the music got cranking it was quite a party. The moon was out and almost full, the breeze was blowing... quite a beautiful setting.

Got talking to L more about the rasta belief, it's really quite interesting, and also about how to get more tips and make people feel like they have to give them. I dunno, I just don't think I can do it, make someone feel bad for not giving me a tip... fair enuf if it comes from someone who looks like they're local, but for me, I think they just look at me and think, "Well she's clearly not from round here, maybe she's just on an exchange or internship or maybe her husband is rich or her family paid her way over here..." But I don't think they'd be inclined to pay much in tips to me. So I guess I just have to keep being my amazing self and hope people can see I need those tips!!

The harder clients...

This Saturday was my first working, and it was pretty busy. Lots of kids running around because they had no school, lessons in the arena, cruise ship rides in the morning, more rides in the afternoon. It wasn't super busy like the other day with ride after ride, but there were things to keep me busy. In the Caribbean sense of the word, I swear since being here I have slowed down about 50% my normal workspeed. But it's just so hot.....

My favourite ride, funnily enuf, was my last one. It was a recently married American couple who were not very experienced on horseback. The man was telling me before he got on that he was really scared, and worried the horse would fall over the edge etc etc. But it ended up being his wife that was freaking out. Her horse, the biggest sweetheart of the bunch, walked over to the water bucket to drink and she started yelling, "Help help, what's he doing, ahhh!!!" So as it was, the husband sat quietly waiting for me to calm her down and I ended up putting a lead rope on this woman's horse the whole ride.

Well, I am proud to say they completed the whole ride, as well as got in the water with the horses at the very end. And they looked a helluva lot more relaxed as the ride came to an end - maybe they were just glad it was almost over. But it was a minor victory on my part, that I was able to keep them calm and get them to have this experience, I'm certain they won't forget it!

Got some good tips from them, which was nice, and I think they gave good feedback to my boss. Which reminds me, the 2 rides I took earlier that day I also got good feedback from my boss, who said they liked me, I talked the whole time, was really enjoyable etc. So that's good! It will mean that I get put on trails more often, cos there are other people who don't talk so much with the guests etc, and they're really into customer service at this place.

After work, the boss shouted me and J a beer and we chatted a short while before I had a quick shower at home, and joined J for a quick kebab dinner (super yummy) and some beers at a local sports bar. Went home about 10:30pm, thought that was about enuf for me, since J wasn't going to the dressup Halloween party at Soggy Dollar (what a name for a club!). I am not going out alone here. Would rather go home early and just read in bed. Did feel a bit mean when I woke up, though, as I read a message from after I fell asleep from J saying he couldn't get a cab or bus home. Hope he got there in the end!

Croc of shit

One week in St Maarten. I'm feeling more settled, even wearing a staff t-shirt so I must be official. Never mind the t-shirts they gave me all seem to be "fat American tourist" size - the normal people sizes must've been snapped up.

I wore my Crocs for the first time today, they were good to get wet and dry again as I worked but I got a little rub on one foot and it was a bit uncomfortable riding in the arena. I think I will take my cowboy boots just in case still. That arena workout was also uncomfortable because it POURED during most of it, and Chico would not have a bar of it. Bucked then tried to escape route up a steep dirt hill. I don't think so, sweetheart.

Met the other worker who had just come back from holidays, I'd heard he'd been there 9 years or something so I was wondering if he'd be the nice type to teach me the ropes or an arrogant know-it-all. As it turns out, I don't like the guy. He's from Guyana, in South America, yet he reminds me more of the annoying Indian guys I've met. He talks so much but doesn't actually say anything, and I'm just not on the same level as him. If he dares get too comfortable around me to flirt like he does the other girls, I may projectile vomit. On him.

So I'm thinking this place isn't run so bad. We get our hours 7-5 with a 2 hours break (when possible) and 8-5 with a 1 hour break, and any hours we do past 5pm we get overtime for. Which is cool. And 2 days off a week, sometimes in a row. Like I got last week and will get again this week.

I can't wait for the high season, J tells me we can get over $100 in tips PER DAY - his record is $165. Crazy! That's like a week's wage here! And that will really be the only way I can come away from this island with money in my pocket. I do not want to go home broke again, if I can help it. Can just see the "told you so" smirk on dad's face now.

This is how funny it can be with tips... the other day I took 2 rides, got no tips cos they were Dutch. Today I took 1 ride, 2 American ladies - they each gave me $10. AND that was after one of their horses rolled on the sand, with her on it. Lucky she was unhurt and still could smile about it. Yeah, would be nice to be told about these little quirks the horses have. Oh well, live, learn and all that.

Now I'm back at the ranch (the apartment) where I'm sitting in the dark, illuminated only by my computer screen, with a seweragy smell seeping into the air and mozzies trying to make a meal out of my ankles, legs, arms, anything. Urgh! They attacked me last night, and I was SO HOT I couldn't use any sheets. Seriously, I was that hot that I had to get my water from the fridge and lie with it like a cold water bottle to get myself back to sleep.

My thoughts now turn to my future... our future... it's going to be a difficult next few years as one of us will surely always be sacrificing something. I really hope we can have that rare thing where we met in the middle and actually both want to do the same thing. But I know he wants to travel, make money, travel, then work on his career in the UK. I also want to travel, but there needs to be a time for me to sort my own life out. And obviously I will follow him wherever he - nay, we - go, but I worry a little how it will affect my longterm career options.

I think my own uncertainty about what career I want to have is feeding these thoughts... it really isn't that much to do with the boy. It's just so hard, not knowing what my purpose is on this earth. Hopefully we can figure it all out together. I'm certainly up for it.