N is for Northern Lights

Magical lights in the sky and I’m not tripping? Yes please.  The Aurora Borealis has always fascinated me.  It just seems so unreal and unnatural, yet it is completely pure and absolute.  The pictures I’ve seen, while incredible, I am sure do not do justice to the real thing.

I simply must see the northern lights. I wouldn’t mind seeing them in Alaska, but rather, I envision seeing them somewhere more exotic, like Iceland. I could kill two birds with one stone this way. Visit a new country and see the lights.  I feel it will be one of those very present moments in which I do not even want to take photos, but rather simply watch, and enjoy and be in awe of what this world can do.

M is for Move Abroad (Again)

I really, really love the idea of being an Expatriate.  I have always been fascinated by those who have made another country their own. I considered myself an expat the whole time I lived in Chile and Honduras, but I questioned it. Could I really be an expat if I always knew I would be returning to the place I originally called home?  It felt a bit like cheating.

I think I’ve finally come to terms with it. I am pretty sure I will always call The United States home, no matter where it is I live.  I am just too patriotic and there are just too many creature comforts I can’t live without for too long like ice, Campbell’s Tomato Soup and the simple conveniences that come with being in a country you spent the majority of your life and where you speak the language.  As a former expat, I can tell you, nothing compares to being able to order a hamburger, no mayo, extra pickles, medium rare and a fountain coke with lots of ice and getting exactly that.  It’s the little things.

I’ve learned I don’t need to be a long term expat, but I would like to move abroad again for a year or two, or longer if I love it. I like the idea of being open to whatever comes.  I imagine moving to the Middle East. ESL teachers get paid ridiculously well there which would fund all of my travels around the Middle East. I imagine staying at least until I visited every country in the Middle East. I’m not sure I would ever see these countries otherwise and if I am going to visit all 196 countries, this is the best way to do.

My preferred method of travel has always been to move abroad and then visit all of the surrounding countries while living wherever it is I am.  It is cheaper and easier and I can make money along the way.  I visited every country in Central America, except Belize, while I lived in Honduras, and while living in Chile I managed to visit Peru, Argentina, Uruguay and Antarctica.  I will do the same in whatever Middle Eastern country I land in, all while making more money than I’ve ever made!

K is for Kiteboarding

When I travel, I usually like to do something new adventure wise. Apparently just traveling isn’t adventurous enough for me anymore. This is how I began SCUBA diving and also how I tried cave tubing, cenote exploring, snorkeling, sunrise hiking, white water rafting, and volcano climbing among other crazy things.

The first time I saw anyone kiteboarding, I was in Belize, on Caye Caulker.  I instantly wanted to do it.  Unlike the fears we talked about in H is for Hot Air Balloon, I have no fears in the water. Most of my joy in life comes from water.  Unfortunately, there on Caulker, I did not have the money to afford the expensive lesson. I had not planned for it in my budget for that trip because I didn’t even know such a thing existed at the time.  But perhaps on my next beach adventure I’ll be flying through the water.

Top 10 Highlights of my Cuban Adventure Part I

10. Glorious Seafood

The seafood in Cubawas fresh, plentiful and cheap. I think I ate seafood at least once a day, often twice.  Lobster was under $10 US. I also had shrimp, swordfish, barracuda, clams and turtle. I suggest eating it prepared in your casa. I found it to be cheaper and better than a restaurant every time.

9. The all inclusive beach in Playa Girón

There are all inclusive resorts all around Cuba.  Lots of these resorts also offer day rates.  There are also beaches that do not have hotels attached to them which offer all inclusive day deals like the one I enjoyed for two days in Playa Girón. They are a great bargain and a great way to spend a lazy day.  The all inclusive rate includes all you can eat and drink. There is usually a lunch buffet spread of typical Cuban food.  The rate may also include various water sports equipment, like snorkeling gear and floats.  Chairs and shades are also provided. 

8. Ernest Hemingway

As I writer, I was thrilled to follow in the footsteps of such a great American author.  Throughout my trip I read, The Sun Also Rises, as well as a collection of his short stories.  There is something exciting about being in a place a writer was and reading his books there. In Havanathere are several places to visit and be reminded of the great author.  Ambos Mundos is the hotel Hemingway would stay at while he wrote two of his novels. You can pay $2 CUC to tour the room he stayed in, complete with the typewriter he used along with various newspaper articles about his Nobel prize.  La Floridita is the bar he would frequent and also where he made the white daiquiri famous. It is a bit of a tourist trap now, but still worth the visit. The daiquiris are out of this world.

7. Playa Blanca

Overall I was not impressed by the beaches in Cuba. It was quite disappointing. I do not know if it is because all of the good beaches are taken up by all the resorts which I did not visit, or if there just aren’t that many good beaches, perhaps due to the fact that 70% of the country island is limestone.

The one beach that stands out was the one I really had to work hard to get to. Playa Blanca in Baracoawas quite hidden and for this reason I saw no tourists the entire day I spent there. Always a bonus. I had to hike for about an hour along the more public beach which was littered and unappealing. I then crossed a rather questionable bridge and walked through a tiny little town I wasn’t sure I belonged in until I finally reached the very small beach that is Playa Blanca.

I was the only one there besides a small family who was cleaning the fish they’d just caught. I befriended the young girl who kept showing me the various sea creatures she’d found.

Beyond the beach a ways you can hire a guide to take you up into the caves and up to the highest point so that you can look out at the ocean and city below.  They were the first caves I saw, and even these had a small swimming hole within them. Playa Blanca was one of the best full days I spent in Cuba.

6. Casas in general and Dimitri and Hostel Moya in particular

Casas Particulares are where you stay when you’re a traveler in Cuba.  You stay with families who have an extra room or two.  Every room I stayed in had a private bathroom and usually two beds.  The rates were ridiculously cheap and you could often get breakfast and dinner for much cheaper and better than any restaurant. The average I paid, including a meal or two was about $20 CUC. 

The other and more important benefit to staying in casas is that you get to meet and interact with the family. You aren’t just served your meal and then left alone. Often, you eat with the family and get to know them. They might tell you secrets about where to go and what to see and where to avoid.  It was also awesome for practicing my Spanish.  (A possible downside for those who do not speak the language, as very few Cubans speak English or anything other than Spanish) I cannot say enough good things about these places and wish they were all over the world instead of hostels. 

My favorite casa was Hostel Moya (don’t be fooled by the name, it is most certainly NOT a hostel.)  Dimitri is the patriarch of this family casa. He was the most welcoming, kind host I’ve even had the pleasure of getting to know. It was he who got me to stay a few days longer than planned in Playa Girón. He was eager and willing to help with any excursion we might have wanted, including snorkeling, night fishing and various car trips. He drove us to Havanawhen we left.  He is also an excellent cook, cooking us the fresh fish he and his soon caught that day. I also had the privilege of meeting his adorable 1 ½ year old grandson Jonathan, and we became great buddies. 

Top 10 Highlights of my Cuban Adventure Part I

10. Glorious Seafood

The seafood in Cuba was fresh, plentiful and cheap. I think I ate seafood at least once a day, often twice.  Lobster was under $10 US. I also had shrimp, swordfish, barracuda, clams and turtle. I suggest eating it prepared in your casa. I found it to be cheaper and better than a restaurant every time.

9. The all inclusive beach in Playa Girón

There are all inclusive resorts all around Cuba.  Lots of these resorts also offer day rates.  There are also beaches that do not have hotels attached to them which offer all inclusive day deals like the one I enjoyed for two days in Playa Girón. They are a great bargain and a great way to spend a lazy day.  The all inclusive rate includes all you can eat and drink. There is usually a lunch buffet spread of typical Cuban food.  The rate may also include various water sports equipment, like snorkeling gear and floats.  Chairs and shades are also provided. 

8. Ernest Hemingway

As I writer, I was thrilled to follow in the footsteps of such a great American author.  Throughout my trip I read, The Sun Also Rises, as well as a collection of his short stories.  There is something exciting about being in a place a writer was and reading his books there. In Havana there are several places to visit and be reminded of the great author.  Ambos Mundos is the hotel Hemingway would stay at while he wrote two of his novels. You can pay $2 CUC to tour the room he stayed in, complete with the typewriter he used along with various newspaper articles about his Nobel prize.  La Floridita is the bar he would frequent and also where he made the white daiquiri famous. It is a bit of a tourist trap now, but still worth the visit. The daiquiris are out of this world.

7. Playa Blanca

Overall I was not impressed by the beaches in Cuba. It was quite disappointing. I do not know if it is because all of the good beaches are taken up by all the resorts which I did not visit, or if there just aren’t that many good beaches, perhaps due to the fact that 70% of the country island is limestone.

The one beach that stands out was the one I really had to work hard to get to. Playa Blanca in Baracoa was quite hidden and for this reason I saw no tourists the entire day I spent there. Always a bonus. I had to hike for about an hour along the more public beach which was littered and unappealing. I then crossed a rather questionable bridge and walked through a tiny little town I wasn’t sure I belonged in until I finally reached the very small beach that is Playa Blanca.

I was the only one there besides a small family who was cleaning the fish they’d just caught. I befriended the young girl who kept showing me the various sea creatures she’d found.

Beyond the beach a ways you can hire a guide to take you up into the caves and up to the highest point so that you can look out at the ocean and city below.  They were the first caves I saw, and even these had a small swimming hole within them. Playa Blanca was one of the best full days I spent in Cuba.

6. Casas in general and Dimitri and Hostel Moya in particular

Casas Particulares are where you stay when you’re a traveler in Cuba.  You stay with families who have an extra room or two.  Every room I stayed in had a private bathroom and usually two beds.  The rates were ridiculously cheap and you could often get breakfast and dinner for much cheaper and better than any restaurant. The average I paid, including a meal or two was about $20 CUC. 

The other and more important benefit to staying in casas is that you get to meet and interact with the family. You aren’t just served your meal and then left alone. Often, you eat with the family and get to know them. They might tell you secrets about where to go and what to see and where to avoid.  It was also awesome for practicing my Spanish.  (A possible downside for those who do not speak the language, as very few Cubans speak English or anything other than Spanish) I cannot say enough good things about these places and wish they were all over the world instead of hostels. 

My favorite casa was Hostel Moya (don’t be fooled by the name, it is most certainly NOT a hostel.)  Dimitri is the patriarch of this family casa. He was the most welcoming, kind host I’ve even had the pleasure of getting to know. It was he who got me to stay a few days longer than planned in Playa Girón. He was eager and willing to help with any excursion we might have wanted, including snorkeling, night fishing and various car trips. He drove us to Havana when we left.  He is also an excellent cook, cooking us the fresh fish he and his soon caught that day. I also had the privilege of meeting his adorable 1 ½ year old grandson Jonathan, and we became great buddies. 

Cuban Blog Day #25 Coming Home With Rum

After a long 4:30 ambus ride to the airport from my hostel, I found myself in the duty free store of the Cancun International Airport.  I asked a store clerk one last time if it was legal to take Havana Club Rum back, this time trying to find some reassurance that what I was about to do was indeed legal and would actually work. I was told, for the third time now, that it would be no problem to take up to two bottles of Havana Club back to The United States of America. I wanted to believe them so badly.

So, I selected two beautiful bottles of seven-year Havana Club and made my purchase using up all of my Mexican pesos and having to use only $1.47 of American money. I was quite proud of this, especially after returning from Cuba with about $30 US worth of CUC I will probably never be able to use.

The bottles were in a stapled duty free shopping bag that I would carry onto the plane with me. I was glad to have them with me and not in a checked bag somewhere, but I was worried what would happen once I got to the Houstonairport and had to go through customs. 

During my entire time in CubaI was worried about returning to the USand getting found out.  You see, it is technically not illegal to travel to Cuba. Thank god! However, it is illegal to spend money there; a bit of a catch 22.  So, while I took all the necessary precautious and made sure my passport was never stamped, (I had assumed that customs officials knew not to do this upon seeing an America passport, but had I not asked them every time not to stamp it, I would have had quite a few Cuban stamps in my passport,) I knew that returning with a bunch of bottles of Havana Club and 30 some Cuban cigars was surely going to put them on the case.

I took solace in the fact that I bought all but one bottle of rum in Cancun.  Even though the bottles have a sticker that clearly reads “Product of Cuba” on the front, I reasoned that the fact that I’d purchased them in Cancunand not Cubameant I hadn’t technically spent money there.  I also rationalized that all sorts of Americans travel to Mexicoand try to bring back Havana Club not even realizing that it wasn’t Mexican.  Right?

Of course, then I had the cigars to worry about. I couldn’t find any way to rationalize those away. As I sat in the concourse waiting area, I thought about the cigars and the other bottle of rum I’d bought in Cubahiding within my checked bag.  They would surly be the reason I would be carted off to jail upon my arrival in The United States. What had I done?

The flight to the Houston Airport was filled with wild imaginings of security guards waiting for me as soon as I exited the plane. I saw them handcuff me and immediately take my precious bottles of Havana Club.  I envisioned my life in jail, only memories of Cubato keep me company. 

When we finally landed, I took a deep breathe and exited the plane with everyone else.  We all filed through the corridors making our way to customs.  I was a bit in between groups and therefore arrived to where the line would be more or less alone.  I was dumbfounded- first, at the lack of the horrible zigzagging line I’d come to expect. It was my first entry into any country where there wasn’t any sort of line. Next, it was impossible not to notice the absence of custom workers. What was going on?  Instead, I saw row upon row of machines. 

I walked up to one of the machines and followed the directions written on it. I slide my passport, credit card like, through the machine. I looked up into the tiny camera and smiled. That was it. The shopping bag full of my bottles of rum was firmly in my hand as I walked toward the exit where there was just one worker at the desk. I stopped there. He asked if my paper had a star on it. I looked, said no. He said that was all then and waved me on.

I continued on in disbelief. Could it really have been that easy? I walked passed another exit with another man at a desk. This was it, I told myself. He’s going to check my duty free shopping bag, and I’m done.  He checked it and gave me hell about having two bottles and not the one he said was the limit. I hurriedly explained that the duty free shop employee had most certainly assured me that two was the limit. The guy smiled at me, advised me that next time the limit is only one (when did this change?) and told me to carry on.

Oh my god!  I was in The United States of America with two bottles of Cuban rum! I had done it! But, there was one more test. I still had to get my bags and go through security. Upon retrieving my checked bag and checking on the other bottle of rum and cigars packed within, I arranged the bottles inside for them to continue on to Denver. I hurriedly packed them in as best I could and waited through the security line. There was nothing more I could do now.

The flight from Houstonto Denver was calmer. I was already in The US and was not as worried about the fines and the jail time anymore. I was, however, worried that the bottles make break or be confiscated upon their arrival in Denver. 

When I arrived and finally got my bag, I immediately checked inside.  Much to my surprise, there was a piece of paper on top of all my clothes informing me that my bag had been checked by TSA. I quickly searched through my bag to check for all the bottles and cigars.  Everything was just where I’d left it.

 Really TSA? What exactly were you searching for and how exactly didn’t you find it? 

Traveling Tip #26 They’re not looking for rum

Aside from getting the rum back and finding the TSAnotice in my bag, there are a few other adventures in smuggling that help me confirm what I’m about to advise, but take this advice at your own risk. I am fairly certain that TSA is NOT looking for rum, or cigars are any other paraphernalia you might try to bring across a border.  And, if that is what they are looking for, all I can say is, they’re doing a terrible job training their agents. I’m fairly certain they are looking for more important things such as bombs and weapons. You know, the things that actually matter and would help keep us safe if found.  For this I am grateful.  So go ahead… bring me back a bottle of Havana Club next time you’re in Cuba. 

Cuban Blog Day #25 Coming Home With Rum

After a long 4:30 am bus ride to the airport from my hostel, I found myself in the duty free store of the Cancun International Airport.  I asked a store clerk one last time if it was legal to take Havana Club Rum back, this time trying to find some reassurance that what I was about to do was indeed legal and would actually work. I was told, for the third time now, that it would be no problem to take up to two bottles of Havana Club back to The United States of America. I wanted to believe them so badly.

So, I selected two beautiful bottles of seven-year Havana Club and made my purchase using up all of my Mexican pesos and having to use only $1.47 of American money. I was quite proud of this, especially after returning from Cuba with about $30 US worth of CUC I will probably never be able to use.

The bottles were in a stapled duty free shopping bag that I would carry onto the plane with me. I was glad to have them with me and not in a checked bag somewhere, but I was worried what would happen once I got to the Houston airport and had to go through customs. 

During my entire time in Cuba I was worried about returning to the US and getting found out.  You see, it is technically not illegal to travel to Cuba. Thank god! However, it is illegal to spend money there; a bit of a catch 22.  So, while I took all the necessary precautious and made sure my passport was never stamped, (I had assumed that customs officials knew not to do this upon seeing an America passport, but had I not asked them every time not to stamp it, I would have had quite a few Cuban stamps in my passport,) I knew that returning with a bunch of bottles of Havana Club and 30 some Cuban cigars was surely going to put them on the case.

I took solace in the fact that I bought all but one bottle of rum in Cancun.  Even though the bottles have a sticker that clearly reads “Product of Cuba” on the front, I reasoned that the fact that I’d purchased them in Cancun and not Cuba meant I hadn’t technically spent money there.  I also rationalized that all sorts of Americans travel to Mexico and try to bring back Havana Club not even realizing that it wasn’t Mexican.  Right?

Of course, then I had the cigars to worry about. I couldn’t find any way to rationalize those away. As I sat in the concourse waiting area, I thought about the cigars and the other bottle of rum I’d bought in Cuba hiding within my checked bag.  They would surly be the reason I would be carted off to jail upon my arrival in The United States. What had I done?

The flight to the Houston Airport was filled with wild imaginings of security guards waiting for me as soon as I exited the plane. I saw them handcuff me and immediately take my precious bottles of Havana Club.  I envisioned my life in jail, only memories of Cuba to keep me company. 

When we finally landed, I took a deep breathe and exited the plane with everyone else.  We all filed through the corridors making our way to customs.  I was a bit in between groups and therefore arrived to where the line would be more or less alone.  I was dumbfounded- first, at the lack of the horrible zigzagging line I’d come to expect. It was my first entry into any country where there wasn’t any sort of line. Next, it was impossible not to notice the absence of custom workers. What was going on?  Instead, I saw row upon row of machines. 

I walked up to one of the machines and followed the directions written on it. I slide my passport, credit card like, through the machine. I looked up into the tiny camera and smiled. That was it. The shopping bag full of my bottles of rum was firmly in my hand as I walked toward the exit where there was just one worker at the desk. I stopped there. He asked if my paper had a star on it. I looked, said no. He said that was all then and waved me on.

I continued on in disbelief. Could it really have been that easy? I walked passed another exit with another man at a desk. This was it, I told myself. He’s going to check my duty free shopping bag, and I’m done.  He checked it and gave me hell about having two bottles and not the one he said was the limit. I hurriedly explained that the duty free shop employee had most certainly assured me that two was the limit. The guy smiled at me, advised me that next time the limit is only one (when did this change?) and told me to carry on.

Oh my god!  I was in The United States of America with two bottles of Cuban rum! I had done it! But, there was one more test. I still had to get my bags and go through security. Upon retrieving my checked bag and checking on the other bottle of rum and cigars packed within, I arranged the bottles inside for them to continue on to Denver. I hurriedly packed them in as best I could and waited through the security line. There was nothing more I could do now.

The flight from Houston to Denver was calmer. I was already in The US and was not as worried about the fines and the jail time anymore. I was, however, worried that the bottles make break or be confiscated upon their arrival in Denver. 

When I arrived and finally got my bag, I immediately checked inside.  Much to my surprise, there was a piece of paper on top of all my clothes informing me that my bag had been checked by TSA. I quickly searched through my bag to check for all the bottles and cigars.  Everything was just where I’d left it.

 Really TSA? What exactly were you searching for and how exactly didn’t you find it? 

Traveling Tip #26 They’re not looking for rum

Aside from getting the rum back and finding the TSA notice in my bag, there are a few other adventures in smuggling that help me confirm what I’m about to advise, but take this advice at your own risk. I am fairly certain that TSA is NOT looking for rum, or cigars are any other paraphernalia you might try to bring across a border.  And, if that is what they are looking for, all I can say is, they’re doing a terrible job training their agents. I’m fairly certain they are looking for more important things such as bombs and weapons. You know, the things that actually matter and would help keep us safe if found.  For this I am grateful.  So go ahead… bring me back a bottle of Havana Club next time you’re in Cuba. 

Cuban Blog Day #21 It's Nobody's Birthday

My alarm didn’t go off today, so I was lucky the Germans were their usual late. We ate breakfast quickly and piled into Dimitri’s car to drive the 1 ½ to 2 hour drive to Havana.  I was grateful to be in a car and not a bus and therefore get there much quicker. I slept most of the way there.

Dimitri took us to his cousin’s casa which was in the heart of HavanaVieja (Old Havana). The Germans had been to Havana in the beginning of their trip, and they were very excited about our location, as was I.  We were also quite happy with the price, which though it was the most expensive casa of my whole trip at $25 CUC with breakfast, was still quite cheap for the big city.

I said a sad goodbye to Dimitri and got a few pictures with him. I thanked him for his kind hospitality and all of his help. I told him I would tell the world about him and his casa. He called me sister and bid me farewell.

Inside, after settling in, Dimitri’s cousin welcomed us with a shot of rum elixir. None of us knew what it was exactly. We also were a little apprehensive about taking a shot at 10 in the morning, but we were in Havanaand it would have been rude to say no, right? I was not too fond of it. It was quite strong and not at all like rum.

I made plans to meet up later with the Germans for dinner and took off toward Parque Centralwhich was just around the corner from the casa.  From there I hopped on a hop-on hop-off bus. I am usually not a fan of these, but given my limited time in HavanaI thought this would be the best way to see as much of the city as I could. I took a seat on the top of the open air double decker bus and was off.

We drove by the malecón (the boardwalk) which was much longer than I expected and seemed to go the length of the city. It was crowded with people playing music, walking, or simply sitting and people or wave watching. The ocean crashed against the wall of the malecón spraying passersby.  We passed by the famous Che building and took pictures. It was crazy to see all of the different buildings, some of them in a state of disrepair having been left to crumble, scaffolding still in its place from when the embargo took effect, trees growing up and around the building and its scaffolding. Time stopped.  Other buildings were grand and impressive. Each were scattered among one another. This is why you go to Cuba.

I came back to the park and stopped for lunch.  On my way to a restaurant, I was stopped by a curious couple and their baby.  They chatted with me and informed me that The Buena Vista Social Club was having a huge festival for their 15^th anniversary. I was super excited and wanted to know where it was.  They said they were going that way anyway and told me they would take me there. I thought I’d go find out where it was and then come back after lunch.  We walked and talked, and they convinced me to stop into a bar which they claimed had been one of Hemmingway’s old haunts.  We drank Cuba Libres and I was told it was the wife’s birthday. We celebrated; until the bill came.  It was $20 CUC for three drinks. I didn’t even know how that was possible. I knew Havanawas more expensive than the rest of the country, but this was outrageous. I wouldn’t pay that much for drinks in the states.  To add to it all, the Cubans expected me to pay the entire thing!

I paid and got out of there as quickly as I could. I tried to wrap my head around such an elaborate hustle and just couldn’t see going to such lengths just to get a drink and bring folks to a particular bar.  When I told the Germans about this, their mouths hung open. They finished the story for me; the child, the birthday, The Buena Vista Social Club, every last detail was the same. It had happened to them the first time they were here.  Unbelievable!

After lunch, I got back on the bus and went to the place I had been dreaming about since planning my trip- The Havana Club Factory. I took a tour and learned all about the rum I’d coveted for years.  At the end we had shots of 7 year rum. I sat in the bar and had a Cuba Libre while listening to live salsa music. I hopped back on the bus, and we stopped at a giant craft market that I would return to the next day when I had more money.

I met the Germans back at the casa, and we drank Cuba Libres on our balcony until we walked to dinner. We ate a really nice meal in a fancy restaurant, but it was still very cheap. The Germans had been there before. After, we walked around Havana Vieja and took in the night scene.

Traveling Tip # 24 It’s nobody’s birthday- I generally pride myself on being especially keen at spotting the hustle. This one blew me away in its attention to detail and the fact that it had worked on at least two different unsuspecting travelers. So, if you are ever in Cuba and someone tells you 1) it’s their birthday and lets get shots at this great bar Hemmingway used to hang out in, and/or 2) The Buena Vista Social Club is in town, don’t buy it. 

Cuban Blog Day #21 It's Nobody's Birthday

My alarm didn’t go off today, so I was lucky the Germans were their usual late. We ate breakfast quickly and piled into Dimitri’s car to drive the 1 ½ to 2 hour drive to Havana.  I was grateful to be in a car and not a bus and therefore get there much quicker. I slept most of the way there.

Dimitri took us to his cousin’s casa which was in the heart of Havana Vieja (Old Havana). The Germans had been to Havana in the beginning of their trip, and they were very excited about our location, as was I.  We were also quite happy with the price, which though it was the most expensive casa of my whole trip at $25 CUC with breakfast, was still quite cheap for the big city.

I said a sad goodbye to Dimitri and got a few pictures with him. I thanked him for his kind hospitality and all of his help. I told him I would tell the world about him and his casa. He called me sister and bid me farewell.

Inside, after settling in, Dimitri’s cousin welcomed us with a shot of rum elixir. None of us knew what it was exactly. We also were a little apprehensive about taking a shot at 10 in the morning, but we were in Havana and it would have been rude to say no, right? I was not too fond of it. It was quite strong and not at all like rum.

I made plans to meet up later with the Germans for dinner and took off toward Parque Central which was just around the corner from the casa.  From there I hopped on a hop-on hop-off bus. I am usually not a fan of these, but given my limited time in Havana I thought this would be the best way to see as much of the city as I could. I took a seat on the top of the open air double decker bus and was off.

We drove by the malecón (the boardwalk) which was much longer than I expected and seemed to go the length of the city. It was crowded with people playing music, walking, or simply sitting and people or wave watching. The ocean crashed against the wall of the malecón spraying passersby.  We passed by the famous Che building and took pictures. It was crazy to see all of the different buildings, some of them in a state of disrepair having been left to crumble, scaffolding still in its place from when the embargo took effect, trees growing up and around the building and its scaffolding. Time stopped.  Other buildings were grand and impressive. Each were scattered among one another. This is why you go to Cuba.

I came back to the park and stopped for lunch.  On my way to a restaurant, I was stopped by a curious couple and their baby.  They chatted with me and informed me that The Buena Vista Social Club was having a huge festival for their 15^th anniversary. I was super excited and wanted to know where it was.  They said they were going that way anyway and told me they would take me there. I thought I’d go find out where it was and then come back after lunch.  We walked and talked, and they convinced me to stop into a bar which they claimed had been one of Hemmingway’s old haunts.  We drank Cuba Libres and I was told it was the wife’s birthday. We celebrated; until the bill came.  It was $20 CUC for three drinks. I didn’t even know how that was possible. I knew Havana was more expensive than the rest of the country, but this was outrageous. I wouldn’t pay that much for drinks in the states.  To add to it all, the Cubans expected me to pay the entire thing!

I paid and got out of there as quickly as I could. I tried to wrap my head around such an elaborate hustle and just couldn’t see going to such lengths just to get a drink and bring folks to a particular bar.  When I told the Germans about this, their mouths hung open. They finished the story for me; the child, the birthday, The Buena Vista Social Club, every last detail was the same. It had happened to them the first time they were here.  Unbelievable!

After lunch, I got back on the bus and went to the place I had been dreaming about since planning my trip- The Havana Club Factory. I took a tour and learned all about the rum I’d coveted for years.  At the end we had shots of 7 year rum. I sat in the bar and had a Cuba Libre while listening to live salsa music. I hopped back on the bus, and we stopped at a giant craft market that I would return to the next day when I had more money.

I met the Germans back at the casa, and we drank Cuba Libres on our balcony until we walked to dinner. We ate a really nice meal in a fancy restaurant, but it was still very cheap. The Germans had been there before. After, we walked around Havana Vieja and took in the night scene.

Traveling Tip # 24 It’s nobody’s birthday- I generally pride myself on being especially keen at spotting the hustle. This one blew me away in its attention to detail and the fact that it had worked on at least two different unsuspecting travelers. So, if you are ever in Cuba and someone tells you 1) it’s their birthday and lets get shots at this great bar Hemmingway used to hang out in, and/or 2) The Buena Vista Social Club is in town, don’t buy it. 

Y is for YOLO

Oh my, I can’t believe I’m using it, but it’s rather fitting. So many people ask me why I travel. I find it such a silly question. The answer seems so obvious to me. Yet, I am starting to understand, that to the person who does not travel, my lifestyle is very strange. And yes, I would call it a lifestyle.  Though it is not something I do every day, it is something I incorporate into my life several times a year. And without it, I would cease being me.

YOLO- you only live once. I suppose that is largely the answer to the question. I travel because I am here for a very short time, and I want to see and do and smell and taste and feel and experience everything I possibly can.  From a very young age, probably from moving around as much as I did with a father in the army, I discovered a need to go. Of course, at the time, I didn’t know it was a need, it was simply what I did. As I got older, it became a yearning, an eagerness to go, explore, learn, seek, find. 

Travel is one of the most fulfilling experiences in my life. As I’ve grown, I’ve realized that there are fewer and fewer firsts in our life. I hate this. When we are younger everything is a first, your first kiss, your first time driving a car, your first love.  I believe firsts are the secret to staying young, feeling young.  Travel allows me to experience firsts over and over again. Each new country, new culture, new dish, new beach, new rum allows me to have that exhilarating feeling of discovering something new.

There are over 200 countries.  Within those countries, there are 1,000’s of cities and people and food and ideas to unearth. I plan to visit all 200 countries and continue encountering firsts for the rest of my life because you only live once.

Y is for YOLO

Oh my, I can’t believe I’m using it, but it’s rather fitting. So many people ask me why I travel. I find it such a silly question. The answer seems so obvious to me. Yet, I am starting to understand, that to the person who does not travel, my lifestyle is very strange. And yes, I would call it a lifestyle.  Though it is not something I do every day, it is something I incorporate into my life several times a year. And without it, I would cease being me.

YOLO- you only live once. I suppose that is largely the answer to the question. I travel because I am here for a very short time, and I want to see and do and smell and taste and feel and experience everything I possibly can.  From a very young age, probably from moving around as much as I did with a father in the army, I discovered a need to go. Of course, at the time, I didn’t know it was a need, it was simply what I did. As I got older, it became a yearning, an eagerness to go, explore, learn, seek, find. 

Travel is one of the most fulfilling experiences in my life. As I’ve grown, I’ve realized that there are fewer and fewer firsts in our life. I hate this. When we are younger everything is a first, your first kiss, your first time driving a car, your first love.  I believe firsts are the secret to staying young, feeling young.  Travel allows me to experience firsts over and over again. Each new country, new culture, new dish, new beach, new rum allows me to have that exhilarating feeling of discovering something new.

There are over 200 countries.  Within those countries, there are 1,000’s of cities and people and food and ideas to unearth. I plan to visit all 200 countries and continue encountering firsts for the rest of my life because you only live once.

X is for Xanadu

Xanadu- noun- A place of great beauty, luxury, and contentment

Origin- S.T Coleridge’s modification, in the poem, “Kubla Khan” (1797)

 It is my understanding that Xanadu is usually a fictitious place. One that is always being sought, yet rarely found.  In my travels and looking back through posts A-W I think it is fair to say that I consider most everywhere I’ve visited a personal Xanadu.  I think Xanadu can be found anywhere if you are willing to open your eyes a bit.  If you are willing to bend and mold yourself to fit where you are instead of constantly wishing things were different or better, any place can become a Xanadu.

Of course, generally my Xanadu includes a beach, sun, rum, diving, hiking, a waterfall or two and a few amazing folks to meet and enjoy it all with.  Put all those together and you’ve got my idea of paradise, a common synonym for Xanadu. I’m not picky. Give me one or two of those attributes and I will be happy. Give me all of them and I am in heaven.

I hope you have found your Xanadu a time or two. If not, I hope you are still seeking to find it. I also hope, that when you find it, you recognize it. Too often we miss out on the great things in life because we think there is something more, something better just around the corner.  We do not notice when everything we ever wanted is right in front of us because we thought it would be more, different, better.  Xanadu is out there. Make sure you know it when you find it.

X is for Xanadu

Xanadu- noun- A place of great beauty, luxury, and contentment

Origin- S.T Coleridge’s modification, in the poem, “Kubla Khan” (1797)

 It is my understanding that Xanadu is usually a fictitious place. One that is always being sought, yet rarely found.  In my travels and looking back through posts A-W I think it is fair to say that I consider most everywhere I’ve visited a personal Xanadu.  I think Xanadu can be found anywhere if you are willing to open your eyes a bit.  If you are willing to bend and mold yourself to fit where you are instead of constantly wishing things were different or better, any place can become a Xanadu.

Of course, generally my Xanadu includes a beach, sun, rum, diving, hiking, a waterfall or two and a few amazing folks to meet and enjoy it all with.  Put all those together and you’ve got my idea of paradise, a common synonym for Xanadu. I’m not picky. Give me one or two of those attributes and I will be happy. Give me all of them and I am in heaven.

I hope you have found your Xanadu a time or two. If not, I hope you are still seeking to find it. I also hope, that when you find it, you recognize it. Too often we miss out on the great things in life because we think there is something more, something better just around the corner.  We do not notice when everything we ever wanted is right in front of us because we thought it would be more, different, better.  Xanadu is out there. Make sure you know it when you find it.

W is for Waterfalls

Well, it was hard to think of a foreign place I’ve visited that starts with the letter ‘W’. I thought about writing about Watertown, New York, but I’ve been trying to stay away from the states, and especially places I’ve lived. So instead I’ll write about waterfalls, something I go out of my way to find while I am traveling.

The best and most recent waterfall I’ve had the privilege of taking a plunge in is the Juan Curi Waterfall in San Gil, Colombia. It is the kind of waterfall I dream of and had not previously ever found.  It is about 180 meters of falling water into the most perfectly circular pool. The hike to the falls is beautiful and not too strenuous, but who cares once you get there, it is all worth it.

I visited the falls with a brother and sister from GermanyI had met. After the short hike, we staked out our spot on the tiny landing around the falls laying our towels out and spreading our bags around. We sat and admired the falls. I wrote in my journal inspired by the beauty around me.

Finally, I stripped down to my bikini and braved the clear waters of the pool.  There were places you could not touch the bottom. It was a pool big enough to swim across. It was the biggest natural pool I’ve ever been in. I swam towards the falls and let the water cascade about me. I lingered there.

I will be traveling again soon, in a place where there will be several waterfalls, though I am not sure any could surpass the perfection of the Juan Curi Falls. Sometimes when you find perfection for the first time you end up comparing everything else to it.  Though I am hopeful I might find falls even better than these. That is always the hope.

W is for Waterfalls

Well, it was hard to think of a foreign place I’ve visited that starts with the letter ‘W’. I thought about writing about Watertown, New York, but I’ve been trying to stay away from the states, and especially places I’ve lived. So instead I’ll write about waterfalls, something I go out of my way to find while I am traveling.

The best and most recent waterfall I’ve had the privilege of taking a plunge in is the Juan Curi Waterfall in San Gil, Colombia. It is the kind of waterfall I dream of and had not previously ever found.  It is about 180 meters of falling water into the most perfectly circular pool. The hike to the falls is beautiful and not too strenuous, but who cares once you get there, it is all worth it.

I visited the falls with a brother and sister from Germany I had met. After the short hike, we staked out our spot on the tiny landing around the falls laying our towels out and spreading our bags around. We sat and admired the falls. I wrote in my journal inspired by the beauty around me.

Finally, I stripped down to my bikini and braved the clear waters of the pool.  There were places you could not touch the bottom. It was a pool big enough to swim across. It was the biggest natural pool I’ve ever been in. I swam towards the falls and let the water cascade about me. I lingered there.

I will be traveling again soon, in a place where there will be several waterfalls, though I am not sure any could surpass the perfection of the Juan Curi Falls. Sometimes when you find perfection for the first time you end up comparing everything else to it.  Though I am hopeful I might find falls even better than these. That is always the hope.

P is for Panama

10 Things I loved about Panama

 

1. Diving- Some of the cheapest diving in the world is in Panama. I had thought Honduras had that racket till I got to Panama.  Each dive I went on was just me, the dive master and one other diver. We saw more sharks than I ever have in my life. Awesome!
2. Using the US dollar- So nice when you don’t have to figure out the exchange rate, or fear you’ve calculated it wrong and gotten ripped off.
3. Bocas Del Toro- Tiny little islands everywhere, where the main mode of transportation is water taxis.  I would take one to a different island each day and often have the dock and water to myself.  I’d lay in the sun reading and jump into the water every so often to cool off. Absolutely my idea of paradise.  I planned to stay just a few days and ended up staying over a week.
4. The beer there is called Soberana. I think that is funny.
5. It was the first place I saw a wild blue and gold macaw, ironically Honduras’ national bird.
6. Boquete- A tiny little mountain town that reminded me of Fort Collins. The air was fresh and it was so much cooler than the rest of the country. A welcome relief. Plus they had their own version of cows on parade.
7. The brightly painted chicken busses.
8. Being able to drink Flor De Cana in lieu of Ron Abuelo, Panama’s poor excuse for a rum.
9. Anticipating the reunion of my friend Karen Crone and two of her sisters in Costa Rica. Crossing the border on foot.
10. Isla San Cristobal – Some of the clearest waters and so many starfishes.

P is for Panama

10 Things I loved about Panama

 

1. Diving- Some of the cheapest diving in the world is in Panama. I had thought Honduras had that racket till I got to Panama.  Each dive I went on was just me, the dive master and one other diver. We saw more sharks than I ever have in my life. Awesome!
2. Using the US dollar- So nice when you don’t have to figure out the exchange rate, or fear you’ve calculated it wrong and gotten ripped off.
3. Bocas Del Toro- Tiny little islands everywhere, where the main mode of transportation is water taxis.  I would take one to a different island each day and often have the dock and water to myself.  I’d lay in the sun reading and jump into the water every so often to cool off. Absolutely my idea of paradise.  I planned to stay just a few days and ended up staying over a week.
4. The beer there is called Soberana. I think that is funny.
5. It was the first place I saw a wild blue and gold macaw, ironically Honduras’ national bird.
6. Boquete- A tiny little mountain town that reminded me of Fort Collins. The air was fresh and it was so much cooler than the rest of the country. A welcome relief. Plus they had their own version of cows on parade.
7. The brightly painted chicken busses.
8. Being able to drink Flor De Cana in lieu of Ron Abuelo, Panama’s poor excuse for a rum.
9. Anticipating the reunion of my friend Karen Crone and two of her sisters in Costa Rica. Crossing the border on foot.
10. Isla San Cristobal – Some of the clearest waters and so many starfishes.

M is for Morocco

Moroccowas our last port before we sailed back to The United States of America.  The UShad become unfamiliar and foreign to me the farther away I got from it. We’d been sailing for nearly three months at this point, and I had no interest in returning. Ever.  I suppose that was a foreshadowing of things to come. If only we ever know those as they are happening, when they can actually help us. Though what would I have done if I’d known sooner that I wanted to stay out in the world wandering it? Just stayed about I suppose.

But I digress, in Morocco, a devoutly Muslim country, we went about our wanderings in the only fashion we could knowing when we left this country we’d be returning and not simply sailing to another port, another world. We set about securing what little alcohol there is to be found in a country whose religion shuns the stuff.  It was Alyssa’s 21^st birthday and we were celebrating. Not many people get to turn 21 in Morocco. We found two bottles of red wine; the details of which I am fuzzy on now.

I remember we had two or three rooms of a hotel with a shared balcony that overlooked the square. We gathered on the balcony in the warm night air and watched the people down below. We passed around the plastic cups we’d attained.  We retrieved the bottles from their hiding spots, surprising the rest of the guests.  We stood among cheers and screams of glee over the forbidden wine.  And then we were stumped.

 We’d secured the bottles of wine, but how did we intend to open said bottles? This is the reason Swiss army knives come with cork screws I realized then. That lovely little youtube video that shows the man opening a bottle of wine with a shoe would have come in handy, but this was 15 years prior to that little gem and alas, we were not privy to that information.  But we were resourceful and while none of us had that handy little Swiss army knife, we did have a knife among us. We used it to dig into the cork, eventually pushing it into the bottle so that the wine flowed freely into our tiny plastic cups. We might have had to contend with bits of cork in our delightful sips of wine, but we were able to toast to Alyssa and wish her a proper happy birthday.

M is for Morocco

Morocco was our last port before we sailed back to The United States of America.  The US had become unfamiliar and foreign to me the farther away I got from it. We’d been sailing for nearly three months at this point, and I had no interest in returning. Ever.  I suppose that was a foreshadowing of things to come. If only we ever know those as they are happening, when they can actually help us. Though what would I have done if I’d known sooner that I wanted to stay out in the world wandering it? Just stayed about I suppose.

But I digress, in Morocco, a devoutly Muslim country, we went about our wanderings in the only fashion we could knowing when we left this country we’d be returning and not simply sailing to another port, another world. We set about securing what little alcohol there is to be found in a country whose religion shuns the stuff.  It was Alyssa’s 21^st birthday and we were celebrating. Not many people get to turn 21 in Morocco. We found two bottles of red wine; the details of which I am fuzzy on now.

I remember we had two or three rooms of a hotel with a shared balcony that overlooked the square. We gathered on the balcony in the warm night air and watched the people down below. We passed around the plastic cups we’d attained.  We retrieved the bottles from their hiding spots, surprising the rest of the guests.  We stood among cheers and screams of glee over the forbidden wine.  And then we were stumped.

 We’d secured the bottles of wine, but how did we intend to open said bottles? This is the reason Swiss army knives come with cork screws I realized then. That lovely little youtube video that shows the man opening a bottle of wine with a shoe would have come in handy, but this was 15 years prior to that little gem and alas, we were not privy to that information.  But we were resourceful and while none of us had that handy little Swiss army knife, we did have a knife among us. We used it to dig into the cork, eventually pushing it into the bottle so that the wine flowed freely into our tiny plastic cups. We might have had to contend with bits of cork in our delightful sips of wine, but we were able to toast to Alyssa and wish her a proper happy birthday.

L is for Lago Yojoa

The first weekend after I moved to Hondurasa few fellow teachers and I took a weekend trip to Lago Yojoa. We were in pursuit of the famous D and D Brewery we had read and heard so much about.  Beer was not exactly heralded as a craft in Hondurasand finding a brewery in the country was a treat. It was apparently owned by a retired deadhead from Oregon and I was eager to meet him.

The trip there involved several bus rides and random stops and switches. I was the only one who spoke any kind of Spanish, and I remember being happy about not having lost the little Spanish I knew in my year back in the states between Chileand Honduras.  It was an interesting feeling having the other teachers depend on me to get us there. I still remember thinking it was a GD miracle we made it. But, we did.

Once there, we met Bob, the owner of the brewery and hotel.  He was everything I’d imagined and set us up with rooms and then beers, all while The Grateful Dead was playing through the speakers in the restaurant.  There are rare treats when you live abroad- finding a micro brew and some Dead were up there with the best of them. I was pretty sure I was in heaven and vowed to come here often in the year I’d be in Honduras. Though, I never did make it back.

Bob showed us the different tours, and hikes and fishing we could do in the area while we started on our second brew.  He told us about the Pulhapanzak Falls that were close to the lake.  And so, as all good travelers do, we changed plans, forgetting about the lake preferring the adventure Bob was selling in his description of the falls, which including a climb behind the waterfall and a cave off of it.

At the falls, we found a young boy, maybe 12 or 13 years old to lead us through the falls.  It was one of the scariest, most thrilling things I’ve ever done.  Walking through the falling water, so thick you are basically swimming, holding your breath, closing your eyes, climbing into the cave for a little refuge from the falls, exiting back out and standing completely under and behind the falls as they tumble into the pool at the bottom. It was a surreal feeling. Rarely do you get the chance to stand behind a fall and look out from that vantage point as the water crashes in the pool and carries on. I’ve never been more happy to veer off course than I was that day at Pulhapanzak Falls.