My hosts this morning prepared a yummy breakfast. Besides the regular (fruit, eggs, juice), they also provides hot milk and cocoa powder (though it takes lots of honey to sweeten), and ham, cheese, and bread. I totally pulled a Home Alone, "I'll save these for later."
The bus ride back was the usual. I napped briefly, read, listened to podcasts, and scratched at my sunburn. Along the way, we paused to pick up an old man who produced a flask from his purse which he handed to the co driver. Im choosing to believe that he just wanted a drink of fresh milk from the cow that happened to be standing next to the road.
I collected my bag and stopped at the little bus statiom convenience store to pick up consumable souvenirs for family and friends. Its been surprisingly difficult to find packaged nonperishable foodstuffs. It seems like most such snacks are made in Spain or South America. But I did find some of those garlic flavored corn puffs. The clerk let me practice to see how many bags I could fit into my backpack. Four.
I had about three hours before I needed to arrive at the airport, so I considered walking. Id remembered to road being busy but passable, but when I asked the attendants they were assuredly against such a plan. "But I have so much time! I can walk the 12 km. I walked to Infanta!" They recommended the bus instead, number 12. Good old number 12, which was what Id taken to and from the water fountain on my first day. I was out of moneda nacional, but the guy kindly gave me the required peso and declined the 1 CUC I offered. I made sure to ask a taxi driver how much a drive was to the airport. 20 CUC. Okay I had two options.
Theres a huge necropolis just north of station. Is "necropolos" what we call it in English? It sounds right. Oh gosh, Ive become like those returned missionaries who are like, "ummm whats the word? Oh, 'man'!" Any this necropolis (sounds greek) is a massive graveyard of above ground tombs. Reportedly its very beautiful so I started on my way with roller bag and all. I saw a man waiting for a bus so I asked him about taking bus 12 to the airport. "Hmm 12? Well not directly. But i think you take 12 and the change to another bus." Sounded promising and reliable.
The necropolis did in fact end up being massive. And of course I had to walk along two of the four sides before I finally arrived at the tourist entrance. It was also indeed beautiful, but for a relatively high entrance fee, I figured Id seen enough through the fence of the two sides id traversed. Besides, I started getting a bit of travel anxiety and decided it would be better to leave sooner than later, and via taxi. It would be awful to be sitting on a bus while I should be loading. An interesting story, but an awful feeling. Imunched my pilfered ham sandwiches in a spot of shade and turned around.
At this point I had 7 CUC available. I remembered passing a fast food place named Pollo on my up and found it on my way back. There I did the mental calculations for how many fried bits of compressed chicken I could buy with my remaining CUCs. I got a bunch of bondigas (nuggets) and three hamburguesas (actually just patties. Sadly). Okay, heres lunch and dinner! The nuggets were about as good as nuggets can be, but my first bite into patty yielded pinkish meat. They went into the garbage; food poisoning on a plane is much worse than hunger on a plane.
I made the proper arrangements with a taxi driver in a 1952 Dodge and hit the road. The driver said that his brother bought it 10 years ago for $15k! The exterior looked ok, but the interior had been totally ripped out and re-upholstered, with corrugated plastic siding added. I gave him the 20 CUC plus everything I had left, total 21.50. Well I kept the 1 peso bus fare bill. That I'll keep as a souvenir. As our conversation drifted to American politics (he brought up trump), I clasped my hands together in prayer and I said, "I hope for only four years!" He responded with morose, "We've had the Castros for 60." That put the frustration of living under an undesireable regime into perspective.
Now I sit here at the gate, peeling my itchy body like a snake. In the immigration exit line, I overheard the guy behind me relay his experiences in Cuba, which sounded a lot like he just stayed in a resort. "Next time Im going to fly to this other resort on the island!" I do believe that theres a time for relaxing and enjoying luxuries, but I felt perplexed that someone would spend their whole time in leisure. It can feel overwhelming when onserving the human condition, but isnt it important to connect with, try to understand, and perhaps even help just a few people. Of course I dont now have a comprehesive understanding of the Cuban people now, but now I do know a few Cuban people, and this has been inherently valuable to me, and hopefully to those I've met. I feel like travel is immensely more rewarding when it contains a humanitarian component. But then, that's just me.
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