Cuba
Anna is back safely in Seattle, and I'm here at my post over Lake Nicaragua. Everything almost as I left it. High humidity and persistent (even when it's sunny) rolls of thunder. The rains have made the roads bad again, and I'm down to half the normal number of transportation options. But I have a good feeling about my remaining just-under-three weeks here. There's a lot to take care of, but volunteer is coming Monday to help out, so we'll see what we can do.
How was the trip? It was very good, thanks. I got frustrated with myself on several occasions for making us spend too much money, or failing to plan enough to take better advantage of our time. And there was a hell of a lot of time spent in transit, some of it unnecessary. But that's how it goes, neh? I think I learned a thing or two about travelling.
And Cuba? I've been saying, a different world; unlike anywhere I've been. Propaganda everywhere, commerce so controlled, and repressed. No es fácil was the constant refrain, and it sure seemed to be the case. People wanted anything spare we could give them. Mostly, the people we talked to blamed Fidel Castro for their conditions, if they had the nerve to blame anyone. No one had much interest in talking about the future.
Some of the hilights of the trip: horseriding through the Miraflor reserve in northern Nicaragua, scrounged-up dinner on the front porch during a class 4 hurricane, excellent music, moped-ing along the coast near Baracoa, and living it up for a few days in San José, Costa Rica. Many thanks to Anna for her companionship, for revivifying my life down here.
How was the trip? It was very good, thanks. I got frustrated with myself on several occasions for making us spend too much money, or failing to plan enough to take better advantage of our time. And there was a hell of a lot of time spent in transit, some of it unnecessary. But that's how it goes, neh? I think I learned a thing or two about travelling.
And Cuba? I've been saying, a different world; unlike anywhere I've been. Propaganda everywhere, commerce so controlled, and repressed. No es fácil was the constant refrain, and it sure seemed to be the case. People wanted anything spare we could give them. Mostly, the people we talked to blamed Fidel Castro for their conditions, if they had the nerve to blame anyone. No one had much interest in talking about the future.
Some of the hilights of the trip: horseriding through the Miraflor reserve in northern Nicaragua, scrounged-up dinner on the front porch during a class 4 hurricane, excellent music, moped-ing along the coast near Baracoa, and living it up for a few days in San José, Costa Rica. Many thanks to Anna for her companionship, for revivifying my life down here.
posted by Peter Abrahamsen at 7/27/2005 05:19:00 PM
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