Cuba Cuba Diego Luna

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Hola de Cuba!

Days in Cuba: 2
Diego Luna spotted: not as of yet. But hope still remains.

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Ah, the balmy, balmy weather of an island nation. I look outside, and well... yeah, not much sun to be had. We in Varadero are currently experiencing an unmistakeable amount of Rain. We're not talking a drizzle here: this morning started off with a monsoon-like sheet of water that can only be found outside of North America; the sky opening up, and tropic thunder raineth forth; you step outside, and you fear a concussion type of weather. The kind of thing where you're left gasping and ringing out every item of clothing, and cars struggle through puddles that are the size of, well, cars.

While this might bum out my travel mates, I seem to find myself reverting to my five year old self (reverting? or never left?) They seem to be with comatose levels of energy, only ever experienced on vacation after a week of prepping for vacation: us students never get much sleep to start off with. Also, the open bar all day until 1am might have something to do with that.

I, however, can't be found inside. (unless the Canada-US Olympic match is on. GAH) I woke up this morning, perky and cheery. In an attempt to justify the ridiculous amounts of clothing that I brought, I went for a run and rediscovered my love of running in the elements.

Honestly, Varadero is not normally the type of town I end up in. While the beach is gorgeous, Varadero tends to be a resort-tourist kind of place, filled with all-inclusives (as an aside- how is it possible that all-inclusives are cheaper than backpacking? This is shocking news to me). And filled with that which I learn to loathe more everytime I am exposed to it: large groups of tourists. Even worse, I now find myself ONE of the large groups of tourists.

Yesterday the McGill group of 8, myself included, went on a tour of the area, with off-roading vehicles, motorboats, horseback riding, and snorkeling. Again, the tourguides were placating, with the jokes that you know they have repeated ad nauseum, and the 'snorkeling' wasn't particularly interesting. Although that worked to my advantage: even though the grotto was without wildlife, I still was heavily mocked for my near panic attack at a large rock that resembled a fish. What a weird phobia.

Anyway, despite the amount of red faced, beer swilling, large foreign tourists, I had a grand time. See, the off-roading wasn't directed by a tourguide- we assembled in groups of four, were handed jeeps that didn't even maintain pretentions that they were new, and got a-trucking. I got to meet my former enemy: ah, stick shift. We meet again.

J-M, the very Quebecois leader of our group of 8, handled one vehicle without a hitch. However, the other one got traded off between my friend Jack and I. Let's just say there was a ton of nervous laughter as we literally had to push the battery back in every time our Jeep stalled, as we willed the damn thing along, and as I almost ran into a cow. (they are a bit of a macho culture here in Cuba, and I'm afraid to say that I justified every one of the 'woman driver' stereotypes. haha)

Although we did get going! The beer at the end of the day was well deserved. Apparently those standard driving lessons in Palestine paid off. *nervous laughter*

Other than that, I've been gellin like Magellan. (yes, that is a geeky 30 Rock reference) Varadero is tiny, I'm craving the draw of a larger city like Havana, but there is a fair amount that I've managed to do so far. Varadero is actually a pretty even mix of local housing and resorts, so I don't feel completely delegitimized as a travelor here. I go for my runs, experiencing the side streets, and hear my fair share of chickens, avoid my fair share of coconuts on the road, and see my fair share of communist propaganda ('Felicidades Cuba en el 50 Cumpleanos de la Revolucion' written on the street and pictures of Che everywhere)
My spanish has greatly improved even in two days, despite the fact that the Cuban accent is totally effed- who drops half of their words? It's like the spanish equivalent of the Cockney British accent. Good lord. I'm the only one of the 'white' contingent (half of us are Indonesian) that hasn't burned. Given the magnificent weather of the past two days, maybe it's best for everyone's skins that it remain rainy.

Anyway, I better head out and find myself an umbrella. I better go find out what the word for umbrella is. While running through the puddles is enjoyable sans protection from the weather (picture the escape scene in "Shawshank Redemption"), the shocked looks of Cubans as I stepped into the internet cafe literally dripping is something I should probably avoid.

Hasta Luego!

Stacey

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