This morning I woke bright and early to catch my bus back to Havana. I unexpectedly met my German friends at the station, who were heading to Sanct Spiritus. It's funny how if you spend enough time in a small town indundated with tourists, youre bound to start recognizing each other. Its kinda like a college campus in that way.
When I checked my bag at the bus station, the clerk had a series of motions that he executed with mechanical precision. Print the boarding pass, produce the bag ticket, fold ticket into pass, point to tip basket, tuck folded documents under basket. 1-2-3-4-5. He got the message across pretty effectively. (Side note: Ive noticed that the drivers are generally crisply dressed, freshly shaven, and with slicked hair. Makes me think of the airline pilot aura of the 1960s.)
Fortunately, this bus ride back wasnt overbooked and nobody sat by me! I guess I must look fearsome. Also, I may have looked like an imbecile: the only snacks at the convenience store were next to the infant formula and the cookies I bought had milk-flavored filling. I dont know if Id want to sit for 6 hours next to someone who was gobbling down jarred baby food.
The ride was fairly uneventful. I listened to some podcasts and slept a little; the sunburn has made sleeping a little less continuous.
After arriving in Havana, I picked up a snack at the station store. The attendants must have noticed that I was preparing for a street journey as I repacked, rolled up my sleeves, and looked my phone map, because one asked, "Amigo, can I help you?" I explained my plans to walk to Infanta street, the location of my next CP. They got worried looks and remarked about how far it was. Well, Id been sitting on a bus all day and wanted some exercise. Okay, whatever crazy American. They did also comment on the uniqueness of travelling to Cuba alone, something that makes me feel a little proud and nervous.
My CP had listed an address on airbnb that didnt readily show up on Google maps. But if the location were at one end of the road, it wouldnt be too far of a walk. Of it were at the other end.... well I needed some exercise anyway. So off I went, with bsckpack shouldered and rolling suitcase in tow.
About a mile in, I passed a lady struggling under some bags, so I offered to help her. She readily accepted and then struck up a one-sided conversation. Ive noticed that many of the Cubans drop consonants. So "tres", "seis", and "diez" become "tre", "sei", and "die" and "estoy" becomes "toy" with just a little bit of an S at the beginning. Well this lady had the accent going strong. Along with speaking a million words a minute, I found it hard to totally understand. She kept saying somethinh abouy how long Infanta is, but then something repeatedly about "guaua." "Taxi? Bus?" I asked. Nope. I wasnt getting the guaua meaning. After a ehile we reached her bus stop and after dropping her bag, I kept walking.
After some more time I reached the end of what I thought was Infanta. Actually it was another street that becomes Infanta. The number on the block was 400. Okay, so I only had four blocks to walk until Infanta, then the number of the CP was supposed to be a 407, so another four blocks after that?
When the road finally changed names, the block read 1600... oof. Okay, twelve more blocks is doable. When I finally reached 407 Infanta, I rang the bell maybe a little impatiently and the housekeeper let me up the two flights af stairs. In all, I walked about 4.5 miles in pants and with backpack and roller bag, on a sunny day in the 80s. I take pride in being a hearty American, but at that point I think I began to start feeling symptoms of heat exhaustion. Fortunately I could rest in the shade and had water to drink. And they had a sweet littke chihuahua to keep me company.
When Odalis arrived a few minutes later, she entered the room like a mother hen who encompassed the stereotypes of Havana: vivacious and effusive. Despite my sweatball status, she pulled me in for a baci (not sure what its called here) and also spoke a million words a minute. She showed me my room, I turned the fan to high, and recuperated for a bit.
Some time later, she energetically asked if I wanted her to show me the wifi park. Uh duh. We strode quickly for three blocks where we both signed in. I to upload a blog post, and she to catch up with her business dealings (she said it's illegal to have personal internet in the home). I also translated messages from English-speaking guests to her, something I stumbled through. When she had finished, she asked what I was up to for rest of the evening: go to old Havana, walk along the Malecón, etc. I replied that I didnt know, maybe both? She then gave me instructions, rapid fire, on how to get back, how to use the keys, then I started to lose track of what she was saying for about 20 sec. She asked if I understood. I shook my head, said no, and laughed. She laughed, clucked, and as she turned made kissing noises that an aunt might make to a silly nephew. And just like that, she disappeared into the crowd.
I ended up just meandering on the Infanta street for a while, and finding a latino fast food place. Like pizzas, rice and beans, chicken filet, etc. AND the prices were ij moneda nacional. At that point I didnt really care what I ate, so I asked the waitress what her favorite is and ordered that. The chicken filet was delicious, then again Ive noticed a relationship between how tired I am and how good food is. I got some bitter salad (it seems that most lettuce here is bitter, I think that's usually because it is under-watered?), rice and beans, a few tomato and cucumber slices, a cola nacional, and a jugo natural (guyaba and melon)... all for $6. What a deal. This time I didn't ask regarding client nationality.
I then walked up to the Malecón, thwarting several taxi drivers/would-be guides, and people-watched next to a fountain. Then walked up the most all-out display of the American flag: a man with pants, shirt, neckerchief, and hat, allade out of stars and stripes fabric. I mean, Ive seen a whole dress, or a skirt/shirt combo, but not four items. I maybe obviously took a picture.
After a walk along the shoreline to watch the sun set, I headed back to my room ready to rest, even if the pseudo-working air conditioner and itchy sunburn were determined to disturb my slumber.
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