Sorry for the lack of details in the last post. I was running out of time before I had to give the beard a trim and then hit the road.
I'm back by the way.
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We left Guelph at 10:30 Saturday morning after saying goodbye to Gemma's Aunt, Uncle, and Grandmother. I pulled out my book and started to read in an effort to while away the time between leaving Guelph and arriving at the Park and Fly in Toronto. An hour later my book slid out of my unconscious fingers and woke me with a start. "Two pages in," I thought, "I'll remember to keep this book handy in case of insomnia."
We parked the Van in lot A8, and made our way to Pearson International Airport. We checked our bags, went through customs, had some lunch, and was on the plane due south by 3:00pm.
We arrived in Holguin International by 7:00. Went through customs, got our bags, and boarded a bus headed for our resort. The trip was long and rough, the bus had a distinct smell of Liam's Basement circa 2004. We trundled down the cracked pavement roads that skirted the outer rim of Holguin, capital city of Holguin Province of Cuba. The trip was provocative to say the least. While it was interesting to see the countryside and get a glimpse into the quality of life for the average Cuban, it also made me feel rather guilty and ashamed of myself. When you look at a residential block of 7+ stories of apartments, and none of them have any sort of glass or screen on the windows, dirty sheets and scraps of clothing hanging from broken steel patios, garbage lining the ground below. It makes you reflect and appreciate what you have back home, and what you take for granted.
"Hey look, a horse!" said Gemma. Sure enough, there was a horse standing on the side of the road. And it wasn't the only random livestock encounter we bore witness to en route to the Resort. Goats, Cows, Chickens, all manner of beast, just having a wander, not giving a shit. Which was another general theme I noticed along the way: Doesn't seem like anyone gives a shit. It probably stems from the fact that for the most part the average Cuban lives in a windowless hatched-roof shack and has to hitchhike on the back of a dumptruck every morning to go to and from work. Cuba does have it's own bus transit system, but after seeing one pass by the resort, I think the dumptruck would be safer. An interesting fact on transit in Cuba: On the trip home I learned that there are people in Cuba who are governmentally sanctioned to wait at busy bus stops, and halt any personal vehicle that passes by and delegate hitchhikers to go with them. Participation is mandatory, not voluntary. Fuckin' crazy, but again, their buses scare the shit out of me so the car thing would be the lesser of two evils.
We got to the Resort at around 8-8:30, we checked in got our bags loaded into what looked like the "Stretch-limo" cousin of a golf cart, got in and set off for our rooms. The resort, for the most part, is "open-concept" meaning you're actually outside with a roof over your head and a floor under your feet. Essentially the only places that are climate controlled are: Your room, the "A la cartes" (fancier resturaunts, not the buffet or pool/beach bar), and the gift shop. Other than that you're trapped in a hazy heat that would cover your body in such an insane heat rash you wouldn't believe it possible (It didn't happen to me, but I've heard about it happening in the later months of summer). We dropped off our stuff in the room and made our way to the Buffet. Since this was my first time here, and Gemma and her parents had been once already, they knew the lay of the land pretty well. I just hung back and follwed everyone and did what they did. Tried to not be "that guy" who speaks slowly and loudly in english to the spanish speaking wait-staff whilst making large, over dramatic pantomimes for "Water", "Wine", "Toilet", etc. After dinner we stuck around for a coffee and some drinks then went to bed.
7am Sunday. I've got to shit. So I roll out of bed and make my way to the crapper. I'm stiff all over from being in a sitting position for the majority of yesterday, coupled with, the beds themselves weren't that great, I'll admit. Itchy, hard, loud, and unpleasant. Cool thing about them though is we had two queen beds pushed against each other so when I had to wake up at 7 am every morning I wouldn't wake up Gemma with my tossing and rolling.
The shit-room had a beday. I've never used one before, and didn't end up using it until wednesday when I really had to take a piss and Gemma was on the jon. So instead of using the sink I popped a squat and gave'r a try. It wasn't nice and I'm never doing it again. Aside from making my ass wet it didn't really do anything. I couldn't imagine using this device to clean your crack.
Back to Sunday morning: I get to the water-closet and have a seat. I absent-mindedly look around the room for something to entertain myself with and I notice a pair of eyes looking at me from around the base of the beday. A crab had somehow managed to make it's way into the room. It wasn't the biggest crab I've ever seen (Gemma and I had nearly stepped on a far larger one the night previous during a little walking tour of the place.) Regardless there was a crustacean in my pooproom and I wasn't going to stand for it. I woke Gemma up to show her my discovery, but mainly so she could run interference while I tossed a towel over the red desperado. I wrapped him in a towelly tube and deposited him out the door and shoved him towards the stairs. He seemed to have some problems making his way down, and I figured the little shit would just follow us right back into the room if we left him hanging on the one step. So I took the rolled-up towel and battered him down the stairs one step at a time.
No Mercy For Shellfish.
Here's the breakdown of each of our following days, since for the most part they all followed the same pattern of events. There were some discrepancies, so I'll outline them after I've given the runsthrough of the daily activities:
7:00am Ben wakes up. Shit/read a book/have a shower time
8:00am Gemma's parents call to wake us (Gemma) up. and get ready for breakfast. An early start means beating the rush and we can always sleep more later.
8:30am leave for breakfast at the buffet. Ben's favorite dish: Onion Sausage and potato pie. Gemma's favorite dish: Dippy eggs on French toast.
9:30am sit and have a smoke and a coffee in the lounge bar. (sometimes replaced with more sleep)
10:00am get changed for the beach
10:30am arrive at the beach. Commence sitting in the sun for hours, reading books and napping. Drinks are periodically served by the wait staff from the beach bar and grill. Occasional swimming.
1:00pm leave for lunch. Either the beach grill, pool grill, or buffet.
2:00pm Pool time. Lounge in water, frolic with Gemma, swim up bar, wrinkled toes.
5:30pm Head back to the room for a nap. Sitting out in the sun all day and drinking makes you tuckered out.
7:30pm get ready for dinner. Shower, shave, apply bug spray.
8:00pm dinner at the a la cartes or buffet.
9:30pm drinks in the lounge or head back to the room if too sunburnt to do anything but sit and read a book in air conditioning.
12:00am sleep time.
Here are some of the exceptions:
Thursday was spa day. Gemma made reservations for a couples massage and use of the spa facilities. Our massage was at 1:30 her parent's at 2:30 after that we could use all the spa crap they had. Steam room, Foot massage, relax room, foot bath, private pool, private beach, outdoor shower, hot tubs, etc etc. The massage was great. I've never had a real massage before and I felt like a million bucks afterwards. When we were done Gemma and I went for a dip in the pool. It was salt-water taken from the ocean, so one had to be careful not to get it in their eyes. Otherwise it was supposedly great for the skin and calming for the nerves.
Until the clouds changed.
It started raining and I could hear thunder so I told Gemma we should get out of the pool, lest we both die from lightning poisoning. I got out and Gemma remained in the pool. Cue heated argument that ruined the spa day. On my side of the coin I don't want her to die, on her side of the coin, she won't die. Fuck the coin, let's sit under the umbrellas and not talk to each other for a long time while watching lizards crawl around in sand. After apologies we went up to the hot tub. Where it was decided that that was a perfect spot for a picture. so back to the locker rooms I went to get the camera. Came back took the picture. Got in the hot tub. got out of the hot tube because if we didn't hurry we would miss our chance to buy some stuff at the vendors at the pool. (The vendors are the guys who sell all that touristy stuff like shell necklaces, wooden masks, rings, and ironically hand-carved wooden pocket knives.) So I got changed in a somewhat quickly fashion. Gemma had said to wait 10 minutes she just wanted a sit in the steam-room with her ma. 45 minutes later we head out.
The A La Cartes
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1. The Mediterranean. Didn't eat there, thought I'd get it out of the way first. Gemma's parents ate there once, and said it was really good. I'll take their word for it.
2. The Japanese Hibachi. Great eats. You sit at a table for eight sitting 'round a large flat grill. The chef prepares your food right in front of you, while also putting on a show of culinary talent.
3. El-patio. The fancier of the cartes. Gemma and I booked it alone the night of the 27th for our one year anniversary. Fancy fancy. In the next section to us a wedding party was also holding their reception, but they kept it to a dull roar.
4. The Cuban. A traditional cuban eatery. With national foods and drink.
to be continued......
