For starters, let me remind you that Bolivians are not the nicest of people and have yet to learn how to treat clients and tourists in the service industry with kindess and respect. I think they constantly feel that backpackers are trying to take advantage of them, which invokes a cyclical pattern of bad interactions and lack of help and kindness among the two parties.
let me also state that this argument that we had with these two bolivian women was about a mere 6 dollars. But it was the principal of the matter and so we fought hard.
I have been and at the time of the argument was travelling with these two fantastic guys, Dario and Geerd. Dario is the perfect ladies man. He has baby blue eyes, blonde hair (always conditioned and soft), wheres a hat that if he put a feather in it would look like those men in the olden days that got lots of women, can spin you around on the dance floor to latin music, and always subconsiously winks at you. He also looks like Owen Wilson with a way better nose. And also happens to be a lawyer, which is a fantastic person to have on your side when you are fighting with two bolivian senoras. Geerd is from Holand and really reminds me of me sometimes, with our sense of dirty humor and extroverted personality. As Dario is smooth talking the ladies, Geerd comes in from the back and swoops in with his funny wit and friendly outgoing personality. So, in Potosi, after a night of dancing in this bar with our tour guide from the day before, we were woken up from the owner of the hostel yelling at us to check out. On 4 hours of sleep and slighly hung over, our day was already starting off on a bad foot by having to quickly get out of the hostel room for the next tourists to come in.
Two days before hand when we were trying to book the hostel room, we were told from the girl checking us in (who happens to be 12 years old and the daughter of the owner), that the only room available was a room with 4 beds. Since we were only 3 people I had asked her if we could only pay the price for 3 beds, which was 140 bolivianos, instead of the price for 4 people (170 bolivianos). She happiling agreed to this. We also made sure that when our other friend, who was coming in late that night, would be able to possibly sleep in the extra bed we had in the room. She once again happily said this was ok.
Here is where the drama starts. Our friend came late at night and from some reason was turned away by the owners. they told her that it was all full and she could not stay there. She was annoyed but eventually found another hostel. So, 15 minutes after we had awoke that day by the bitch owner knocking on our door yelling at us to leave, we some how found ourselves in a screaming and dirty fight between the owners and us about the price of the room. They insisted that we pay 170 bolivianos even though our friend did not come and sleep in that extra bed. We insisted that we were told it would only cost 140 each night and that they were the ones that denied the bed to her. As the fight escalated, figurs were literally pointed in our faces and we were being accused of being robbers, drunks, and liers. The oversized owner was threatening to call the police on us so we walked downstairs, gathered the money we thought we needed to pay, and handed it to them respectfully. Instantly, after realizing we did not pay what they wanted us to pay, the owner reaches down and grabs the backpack of Dario. The door to the hostel was shut so we could not escape. It then becomes this scene of Dario and this bolivian senora fighting over his backpack. Then the other owner takes Darios hat and starts beating him over the head with it. It got beat over the head by an oversized bolivian puta madre. meanwhile, there were like other 10 tourists watching this go down. And let me remind you that Dario is a lawyer. YES! The police were called, which we were glad about. After some time they showed up and facilitated this childess dispute with a compromise. Although the owner was still extremely angry that she was not being paid the full amount, we walked away pretty satisfied that we had kinda won and had a run in with the police. poor little girl too who checked us in. She was too scared to tell the truth so she sided with her mom, which made us look even more wrong. Which we were not.
So although this was not the best way to wake up after a night of partying, i can now say that i have had a run in with the bolivian police, have witnessed a swiss lawyer be beat over his head with his own hat, and have been called a drunk, lier, and robber all is one day. And in the end we saved 15 bolivianos (which is like 2 dollars)! So worth it.
If we had gone to jail, we possibly could have ended up in San Pedro jail in the center of La Paz. San Pedro is a very famous jail because instead the jail is run like a mini society. the prisoners have to buy their own apartment in the jail where they live with their family and run businesses like normal. We tried to get in on an undercover tour but apparently a couple of tourists were deported last week and so they are really restricting entrance. check out the book "marching power", a really fantastic book about the accounts of living in this jail.
On a completly new topic: I figured out why the women in La Paz wear these funny looking top hats that are balanced on top of their heads and offer no sun protection. I have wondered how they stay on thier heads, but apparently they are just fucking amazing at this balancing act. Along with the top hats they wear really elegant skirts and shalws, which are a symbol of their status and wealth. Back in teh colonization period when some of the Spanairds slept with many indegenous women, these women copied the Spanish style of royalty. It is not a symbol of campo or poorer indegenous women, but a status symbol of women that have some spanish wealth and now run profitable businesses of selling jeans or what not. I thought that was interesting.
The Hard Rock Cafe in La Paz has the best discoteca at night. who would have known that Hard Rock would become a place for wealthier bolivianos (who all happen to surprisingly speak english)to come and dance the night away to reggaeton, YMCA, old school american hip hop, and Billy Jean. Good times!
domingo, 16 de enero de 2011
96% alcohol, coca leaves, and dynamite
The silver miners of Potosi, Bolivia, pray to the mountain devil they call Tio. It was named after Dios, which means god, but the indegenious people of this area could not pronounce the letter "d" and it became tio instead. The Tio is a devilish figure that the miners pray to before and after they go into the depths of the mountain to extract silver. And for a good reason. I was able to go on an active mine tour and witness the hard and dangerous work of the underage and underpaid workers. The miners might start working when they are at the age of 10 and continue their whole lives until they die of sicolsis, in which too much dust gets in their lungs and their lungs fill with blood and explode. The mining corporations do not give them any money to buy simple things like gloves, dynamite, water, and coca leaves. So they relay on the constant supply of tourists who come and bring them their necesities. We brought them bags of coca leaves that the addictively and kinda grossly stuff in the sides of their mouths to take away hunger so they do not have to eat when they are down there. We also brought them 96% alcohol that tastes like rubbing alcohol, and if not mixed with water can get you shit faced on 2 bolivianos (thats like .5 cents US). Although the whole time I felt like I was in an Indian Jones movie and having a blast climbing through small entry holes and dodging out of the way of carts of rocks zooming past, it was really shocking to learn about the hard lives of these miners. It is a crazy hard life for the miners down there and it is no reason that they sacrifice llamas and pray to the Tio devil to spare their lives and provide a good quantity of minerals.
I also witnessed my first dynamite explosion. pretty sweet. almost pissed in my pants it was so loud and unexpected.
I also witnessed my first dynamite explosion. pretty sweet. almost pissed in my pants it was so loud and unexpected.
martes, 11 de enero de 2011
open and vast
i just spent the last 3 days in southern bolivia on what felt like an acid trip. i travelled over night on a 12 hour bus ride on awful roads to a little town uyuni. uyuni has nothing going for it, except that it is right next to the worlds largest salt flats and thus brings in loads of tourists. escaping away from a clang of korean tourists that i could not understand, i found a tour for 3 days to explore the salt flats. for two nights and three days i was driven around in a 4wd with 3 english peeps and 2 australians by a bolivian names Andres and our cook Isabella. although all the picture of this place feel like you are all alone, there were probably like 50 other cars loaded with tourists that followed the excat same route.
i really feel like i am on the tourist track, with loads of europeans australians koreans and really really loud argentianians. argentianians are really starting to annoy me with their loud songs they sing in buses and their mate that they constantly drink.
i felt like i was on the edge of the world in this place. we drove for miles and miles over salt and then would come to a random island with cacti growing on it. Flamengos right next to llamas, a cave with wierd cob web looking things in it, geysers bubbling with hot earth, active volcanos, miles of flat dirt land where the edge was impossible to see, red lakes, hot springs, llama legs with their fur still on them, a hostel made of salt, burning hot sun one day, and thunderstorms with hail the other,and the most magnificent sunsets i could have imagined that looked right out of a painting. this place was neither ugly nor beautiful. it was just bizzare. so strange. and meanwhile i was shooting the shit over meals with lots of fantastic tourists all just as confused as i was.
we made our cook cry on our tour to the salt flats. our tour guides were super unfriendly and did not communicate well with us the time we had to wake up in the morning for breakfast. so, not with our intention, we woke up 45 minutes late for breakfast. isabella, the cook, was super bitching and blamed us and would refuse to make us eggs becuase we showed up late. the exchange between us was not good at all. i demanded that they make us some sort of breakfast (at least bring out the jam and butter for bread or something). eventually we got her to angriling make us eggs (she probably spat in them). we she came out with the frying pan full of eggs and threw them on the table we thanked her. then she just started crying. a 45 something year old women started crying becuase she had to make us eggs a little later than everyone else. we thought she was either metapausing, really stressed out about something, or just a typically rude bolivian. bolivians are definetly not the nicest of people and dont seem to understand the concept of good service. they are not good at multitasking and so if you walk into a store wanting a coke or something adn the women is playing with her hair, she will refuse to serve you the coke.
making a hostel room out of salt in theory is a really good idea, but in practice is really fucking dumb. salt sucks all the moisture out of the air, so we all woke up with the worst chapped lips and dry mouth ever. i havent been feeling well since then. Becky, this british girl, gave me her cap stick becuase i really really liked it. she said it is really cheap and not that good of a brand from england, so i could have it. i am so happy with my new chapstick.
i am getting to talk to lots of great tourists from all over the world. i am sitting next to a guy from dutch (his name is geert or something and i cant ever really say it right) and this other guy from switzerland (dario) who just took off his shirt in the internet cafe and gave it to me because i was cold. everyone is so friendly and generous. there are a few duds, like this one girl from holland who complains about everything. thank god we ditched her in the hassle of finding a hostel in potosi.
so now i am in potosi potosi potosiiii! it is the highest city in the world. i plan to go tomorrow on a mine tour and see dynamite being exploded and underpaid and dangerous child labor. it should be interesting.
i swear, i have asked every papeleria (like office depote but on a much smaller and south american level) for a journal with out any lines on it. bolivia has no journals or binders that just have plain blank paper. maybe no one here can write straight so they all have lines or grids. who knows...so my search continues.
one of my favorite past times in comparing english phrases with australians and brits. i learned that "are you pissing yourself" means "are you kidding me" and "i am shitting myself" means "i am angry". so you could say, "stop pissing me, i am going to shit myself" and that would mean that you dont want the person to joke around with you anymore cause you will get angry.
thats all for now!
i really feel like i am on the tourist track, with loads of europeans australians koreans and really really loud argentianians. argentianians are really starting to annoy me with their loud songs they sing in buses and their mate that they constantly drink.
i felt like i was on the edge of the world in this place. we drove for miles and miles over salt and then would come to a random island with cacti growing on it. Flamengos right next to llamas, a cave with wierd cob web looking things in it, geysers bubbling with hot earth, active volcanos, miles of flat dirt land where the edge was impossible to see, red lakes, hot springs, llama legs with their fur still on them, a hostel made of salt, burning hot sun one day, and thunderstorms with hail the other,and the most magnificent sunsets i could have imagined that looked right out of a painting. this place was neither ugly nor beautiful. it was just bizzare. so strange. and meanwhile i was shooting the shit over meals with lots of fantastic tourists all just as confused as i was.
we made our cook cry on our tour to the salt flats. our tour guides were super unfriendly and did not communicate well with us the time we had to wake up in the morning for breakfast. so, not with our intention, we woke up 45 minutes late for breakfast. isabella, the cook, was super bitching and blamed us and would refuse to make us eggs becuase we showed up late. the exchange between us was not good at all. i demanded that they make us some sort of breakfast (at least bring out the jam and butter for bread or something). eventually we got her to angriling make us eggs (she probably spat in them). we she came out with the frying pan full of eggs and threw them on the table we thanked her. then she just started crying. a 45 something year old women started crying becuase she had to make us eggs a little later than everyone else. we thought she was either metapausing, really stressed out about something, or just a typically rude bolivian. bolivians are definetly not the nicest of people and dont seem to understand the concept of good service. they are not good at multitasking and so if you walk into a store wanting a coke or something adn the women is playing with her hair, she will refuse to serve you the coke.
making a hostel room out of salt in theory is a really good idea, but in practice is really fucking dumb. salt sucks all the moisture out of the air, so we all woke up with the worst chapped lips and dry mouth ever. i havent been feeling well since then. Becky, this british girl, gave me her cap stick becuase i really really liked it. she said it is really cheap and not that good of a brand from england, so i could have it. i am so happy with my new chapstick.
i am getting to talk to lots of great tourists from all over the world. i am sitting next to a guy from dutch (his name is geert or something and i cant ever really say it right) and this other guy from switzerland (dario) who just took off his shirt in the internet cafe and gave it to me because i was cold. everyone is so friendly and generous. there are a few duds, like this one girl from holland who complains about everything. thank god we ditched her in the hassle of finding a hostel in potosi.
so now i am in potosi potosi potosiiii! it is the highest city in the world. i plan to go tomorrow on a mine tour and see dynamite being exploded and underpaid and dangerous child labor. it should be interesting.
i swear, i have asked every papeleria (like office depote but on a much smaller and south american level) for a journal with out any lines on it. bolivia has no journals or binders that just have plain blank paper. maybe no one here can write straight so they all have lines or grids. who knows...so my search continues.
one of my favorite past times in comparing english phrases with australians and brits. i learned that "are you pissing yourself" means "are you kidding me" and "i am shitting myself" means "i am angry". so you could say, "stop pissing me, i am going to shit myself" and that would mean that you dont want the person to joke around with you anymore cause you will get angry.
thats all for now!
viernes, 7 de enero de 2011
La Paz is not Peaceful
Quite contrary to the name of the city, La Paz Bolivia is really not very peaceful. heres why:
1. every night I have fallen asleep to the bar across the street from my hostel and every morning woken up at 6am to the sound of honking and traffic down below. It is quite strange why so many people decided to populated the area of la paz. it rests at around 3300meters and many houses are built on large mountains surrounding the altiplano. Becuase of this, my first couple of days have been me panting around trying to acclimitize. i showed up not having really slept for 2 days and could not breathe. i spent my first day slowing weaving in and out of the masses and walking from one bench to another. the indegenous women who carry huge loads of stuff wrapped up in shawls were passing me with ease climbing up the steep hills. the women here seem to work really hard. and lots of them have these cool looking top hats that rest on their heads. it seems to defy gravity becuase i have yet to figure out how they do not fall off.
2.i showed up super stressed out that i would not be able to get into the country. with two hours before my flight took off in miami to get to bolivia that i needed a visa to get in. i had no idea of this and freaked out. the women at the american airlines check in counter told me i needed two passport size photos, $135, and an application. so i quickly zoomed off from the aiport in a taxi, went to the nearest walgreens to get my photos taken, and in 30 min was back in the aiport with just enough time to get on my flight. i nearly shat myself i was so scared my whole trip would be canceled becase of this. but, low and behold...when i show up to bolivia immigration does not even ask for my photos. all they want is my $135 in cash. every american who enters bolivia has to pay this to get a 5 year visa. it is probably the most ridiculous amount of money i have ever had to pay to get into a county.
3. i went on the worlds most dangerous road on a bike and survived! la paz is surrounded my tons of amazing ecotourism places riden with adrenaline(biking, trekking, mountainering, etc.). i spent yesterday in a motocross helmet, shin gards, wrist gards, and goggles zooming down 63meters of gravel road with a cliff of 400meters off to my left. i had to pry my hands off of my brakes they were so sore after the day. the exursion also came with a buffet at this random place with a pool. as if the biking was not enough, it took 3 hours getting back to la paz with our van zooming in and out of lanes trying to race the other van. there was some mooning involved between vans, a little light hearted competition. at least we were all loosened up from the liter bottle of cubre libre that was bought, coco leaves in our teeth, and a fantastic cd mix of ludacris, mama mia, and others on repeat. i met some great people too from ireland, australia, and britain and spent the rest of the night with them in their bar in their hostel, which was quite fun. maybe i will run into them as i head down south to the salt flats in uruny.
i am looking forward to getting out of the city and start hitting up smaller towns. cities are fun and exciting, but a little overwhelming.
bbfn (bye bye for now)
1. every night I have fallen asleep to the bar across the street from my hostel and every morning woken up at 6am to the sound of honking and traffic down below. It is quite strange why so many people decided to populated the area of la paz. it rests at around 3300meters and many houses are built on large mountains surrounding the altiplano. Becuase of this, my first couple of days have been me panting around trying to acclimitize. i showed up not having really slept for 2 days and could not breathe. i spent my first day slowing weaving in and out of the masses and walking from one bench to another. the indegenous women who carry huge loads of stuff wrapped up in shawls were passing me with ease climbing up the steep hills. the women here seem to work really hard. and lots of them have these cool looking top hats that rest on their heads. it seems to defy gravity becuase i have yet to figure out how they do not fall off.
2.i showed up super stressed out that i would not be able to get into the country. with two hours before my flight took off in miami to get to bolivia that i needed a visa to get in. i had no idea of this and freaked out. the women at the american airlines check in counter told me i needed two passport size photos, $135, and an application. so i quickly zoomed off from the aiport in a taxi, went to the nearest walgreens to get my photos taken, and in 30 min was back in the aiport with just enough time to get on my flight. i nearly shat myself i was so scared my whole trip would be canceled becase of this. but, low and behold...when i show up to bolivia immigration does not even ask for my photos. all they want is my $135 in cash. every american who enters bolivia has to pay this to get a 5 year visa. it is probably the most ridiculous amount of money i have ever had to pay to get into a county.
3. i went on the worlds most dangerous road on a bike and survived! la paz is surrounded my tons of amazing ecotourism places riden with adrenaline(biking, trekking, mountainering, etc.). i spent yesterday in a motocross helmet, shin gards, wrist gards, and goggles zooming down 63meters of gravel road with a cliff of 400meters off to my left. i had to pry my hands off of my brakes they were so sore after the day. the exursion also came with a buffet at this random place with a pool. as if the biking was not enough, it took 3 hours getting back to la paz with our van zooming in and out of lanes trying to race the other van. there was some mooning involved between vans, a little light hearted competition. at least we were all loosened up from the liter bottle of cubre libre that was bought, coco leaves in our teeth, and a fantastic cd mix of ludacris, mama mia, and others on repeat. i met some great people too from ireland, australia, and britain and spent the rest of the night with them in their bar in their hostel, which was quite fun. maybe i will run into them as i head down south to the salt flats in uruny.
i am looking forward to getting out of the city and start hitting up smaller towns. cities are fun and exciting, but a little overwhelming.
bbfn (bye bye for now)
lunes, 3 de enero de 2011
Todo arribe en mis negocios=all up in my business
With its sexy dance moves, beaches with lots of European tourists in speedos, and old Cuban men cat calling every 10 minutes, endless rum, and brightly colored clothes Cuba is truly all up in yo’ business (also referred to as up in yo’ grill). we were mostly amused by the yellow pants that many women and men would rock and the matching outfits. it seemed as if couples would wake up in the morning and plan on both wearing brightly colored red shirts and bedazzled pants with some gold bling. we were unsure of if this matching outfits were planned or was it just coincidental that everyone seems to have baby blue pants with the same sahde of blue shirt. The first 30 minutes my sister and I walked around the streets of Havana we where instantanely ripped off by a jinetero or the men that the lonely planet say to watch out for (clearly we did not read that section until the day after). He was really nice, like all Cubans are, and led us to this restaurant that was way too expensive. We did not know any better and so paid way too much at this privately owed restaurant (called paladas). We eventually discovered the joys of the really cheap restaurants that are run by the government and serve huge plants of ham chicken or fish, moros y christianos (delicious rice and beans), yucca (emily’s favorite dish), and bread and butter (I rediscoverd the joys of eating butter!) We were so excited about this one restaurant we discovered, called Nardos, that we had to go there twice. The line to wait for the restaurant was always an hour long, but the cheap prices and mounds of lamb brisket and paella were so worth the wait. We always took the extra food we had to go home with us and so had left overs the following day. This meant that we ate Nardos food 4 days in a row! Side note: our waiter kinda looked like obama. Besides Nardos, the food was kinda boring and i can really see that after a couple more weeks i would get sick of the greasy fried rice and pizza that looked like it had been microwaves from the street. could thing i brought peanut butter, nutella, and hot sauce from mexico with us.
the dance scene in cuba is absolutely amazing. you can walk down the street and just listen in to free salsa, flamengo, tango, rumba, orishas, or typical cubano music. they also have this amazing dvds withs ridiculous music videos on them everywhere! on this small artsy street called callejon de hamel we saw a free rumba preformance where seven year old kids were dancing super sexy with an older women in all baby blue pants and shirt. the seven year old did a typical rumba dance move in which he tried to slap her crouch and she responded with another typical dance move and just giggled and continued flirting. i felt a little akward, but i guess thats ok. em and i also had a favorite dance partners at the one and only bar in vinales (this smaller town in the middle of the farm land and mountains). em got insulted the first night when some guy asked if she had ever danced before...but she redeemed herself the next night when we went back and we reclaimed ourselves on the dance floor. oh, and major highlight: we got into the cuban ballet for GRATIS!!! (free). the charge for tourists in CUC is much more expensive than than the price for cubans to get into the ballet. cubans can get into the ballet there for pretty much 5 cents. so, i chatted it up with a nice looking middle age women and her hubby and they bought us tickets at the cuban price. they didnt let us pay them back and made up a lie for us in case our tickets would not be accepted. so that night em and i pretended we were students at the escuela de cine latinamericano. i love beating the system.
new years eve dinner was spent eating at our casa particular with the two other women from finland who also were staying with us. one of the women was 65 with the worst brochitis (said in finish accent) ever. we are pretty sure that a 65 year old women from finland who already has the most black lung sounding voice ever should not chain smoke if she has brochitis. was we were full on lots of yucca and kinda dry pork we headed out on the town. we started our night at this super buzz kill place that lonely planet and every tourists goes to because hemingway drank a mojito there. it had super bad mojitos, no music, and way too much cigerette smoke. so we left quickly to casa de la musica where we waited in line with our canadian solo traveler friend we had met in vinales. once we got in, the actual new years was super anti-climatic. instead of all counting down from 10 the guy on the microphone just mumbled 3,2,1 and yeah! no one really knew what was going on, but at least there was a kinda poppy salsa performance we got to see there.
the caribean beaches are also something note worthy in cuba. the just all look like the most perfect paradise blue water beaches ever. in vinales we spent a day trip going to this beach, called cayo judiata. it was probably the worst day ever to go to the beach cuase it was super cold, but it was one of the best beaches i have ever been to. after taking a 3 hour napped curled up in a ball on the beach we took a stroll down the coast line and walked on the softest sand i have ever touched, saw the best drift wood we have ever seen drift onto shore, and found the biggest and most intacked shells we have every discovered. we also spent the last days in havana on the beach near havana, called santa maria del mar. with every plastic beach chair taken with italian men and some drunk cubans we felt like we were in the original jersey shore. there was the most unique array of speedos we have ever seen. at one point we were talking to two italian men at the same time both wearing white speedos. we also got to see a look a like Fabio with a gold shiny speedo. amazing. we love beaches in cuba!
So, with at least 2 mojitos in our bellies and music everywhich way, we had some great sisterly bonding time and truely enjoyed each others company. the only downer was that em got burned (even after many applications of sunscreen and wearing her surong and shirt for half the time at the beach). so, behind the bright yellow pants and the bedazzled shirts the the cuban people are some of the nicest and most educated people i have met. although they might have issues with the US goverment, they love americans (or at least they love our tourist money). the complicated history between the US and Cuba is still going on and many Cubans long for the chance to vacation to the US or have the chance to afford simple everyday items that are too expensive for them to buy in their national currency. Cars from the 50's not up to pollution standards would be considered antiques in the US or the abondoned crumbling buildings could seem creepy to an outsider, but to the Cubans it is just their way of life. and so although it is hard for them to build up their economy, they fill their lives with lots of music and bright colored clothing!
Hasta the next entry! chaos
the dance scene in cuba is absolutely amazing. you can walk down the street and just listen in to free salsa, flamengo, tango, rumba, orishas, or typical cubano music. they also have this amazing dvds withs ridiculous music videos on them everywhere! on this small artsy street called callejon de hamel we saw a free rumba preformance where seven year old kids were dancing super sexy with an older women in all baby blue pants and shirt. the seven year old did a typical rumba dance move in which he tried to slap her crouch and she responded with another typical dance move and just giggled and continued flirting. i felt a little akward, but i guess thats ok. em and i also had a favorite dance partners at the one and only bar in vinales (this smaller town in the middle of the farm land and mountains). em got insulted the first night when some guy asked if she had ever danced before...but she redeemed herself the next night when we went back and we reclaimed ourselves on the dance floor. oh, and major highlight: we got into the cuban ballet for GRATIS!!! (free). the charge for tourists in CUC is much more expensive than than the price for cubans to get into the ballet. cubans can get into the ballet there for pretty much 5 cents. so, i chatted it up with a nice looking middle age women and her hubby and they bought us tickets at the cuban price. they didnt let us pay them back and made up a lie for us in case our tickets would not be accepted. so that night em and i pretended we were students at the escuela de cine latinamericano. i love beating the system.
new years eve dinner was spent eating at our casa particular with the two other women from finland who also were staying with us. one of the women was 65 with the worst brochitis (said in finish accent) ever. we are pretty sure that a 65 year old women from finland who already has the most black lung sounding voice ever should not chain smoke if she has brochitis. was we were full on lots of yucca and kinda dry pork we headed out on the town. we started our night at this super buzz kill place that lonely planet and every tourists goes to because hemingway drank a mojito there. it had super bad mojitos, no music, and way too much cigerette smoke. so we left quickly to casa de la musica where we waited in line with our canadian solo traveler friend we had met in vinales. once we got in, the actual new years was super anti-climatic. instead of all counting down from 10 the guy on the microphone just mumbled 3,2,1 and yeah! no one really knew what was going on, but at least there was a kinda poppy salsa performance we got to see there.
the caribean beaches are also something note worthy in cuba. the just all look like the most perfect paradise blue water beaches ever. in vinales we spent a day trip going to this beach, called cayo judiata. it was probably the worst day ever to go to the beach cuase it was super cold, but it was one of the best beaches i have ever been to. after taking a 3 hour napped curled up in a ball on the beach we took a stroll down the coast line and walked on the softest sand i have ever touched, saw the best drift wood we have ever seen drift onto shore, and found the biggest and most intacked shells we have every discovered. we also spent the last days in havana on the beach near havana, called santa maria del mar. with every plastic beach chair taken with italian men and some drunk cubans we felt like we were in the original jersey shore. there was the most unique array of speedos we have ever seen. at one point we were talking to two italian men at the same time both wearing white speedos. we also got to see a look a like Fabio with a gold shiny speedo. amazing. we love beaches in cuba!
So, with at least 2 mojitos in our bellies and music everywhich way, we had some great sisterly bonding time and truely enjoyed each others company. the only downer was that em got burned (even after many applications of sunscreen and wearing her surong and shirt for half the time at the beach). so, behind the bright yellow pants and the bedazzled shirts the the cuban people are some of the nicest and most educated people i have met. although they might have issues with the US goverment, they love americans (or at least they love our tourist money). the complicated history between the US and Cuba is still going on and many Cubans long for the chance to vacation to the US or have the chance to afford simple everyday items that are too expensive for them to buy in their national currency. Cars from the 50's not up to pollution standards would be considered antiques in the US or the abondoned crumbling buildings could seem creepy to an outsider, but to the Cubans it is just their way of life. and so although it is hard for them to build up their economy, they fill their lives with lots of music and bright colored clothing!
Hasta the next entry! chaos
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