tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13346397880725324722024-03-05T03:57:05.384-08:00Perspectives of a Wandering GeographerWill Mahoneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14657949510251910608noreply@blogger.comBlogger103125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1334639788072532472.post-89940166875916175552023-12-01T10:39:00.000-08:002023-12-01T11:06:19.648-08:00Addendum, November 19-22 and Beyond: Getting My Heart Back to Normal<p><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;">I don’t want to bore
my readers with a lot of medical mumbo-jumbo so I’ll keep this simple, and you’ll
understand why my heart problems doomed my South American trip from the start.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">One of the first items
of business after returning home was manually downloading the data from my
tiny, implanted heart monitor to a phone-like device on my nightstand which
then transmits the data to my cardiologist’s office.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">The monitor records the rate and nature of my
heart beats, and an electro-cardiologist can study the readout to determine what’s
happening electrically in my aging “blood pump”.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Normally, the downloads and transmissions automatically
happen once a day, but I wanted to be sure my doctor had all the latest data
from my trip when I called his office which I did first thing on Monday
morning.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQvlw2reN81JuS5ymUWX5mv8MATcVLttjXo84-5G4Pffo-pm3OIuis2PzsIrW0xNTnkpKJyYYXtmv8b4_gKEXLtj0DBFGOQ3z1xaXVqWjHTPHbQhC5ogZF4J4MuMPeuSGvV-hFHnXBqZ8HRZBiqcRL6DNw4Kj-DF0DC1Mek3dEbzGuqwO6QDaahvvH_yk/s960/Slide1.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQvlw2reN81JuS5ymUWX5mv8MATcVLttjXo84-5G4Pffo-pm3OIuis2PzsIrW0xNTnkpKJyYYXtmv8b4_gKEXLtj0DBFGOQ3z1xaXVqWjHTPHbQhC5ogZF4J4MuMPeuSGvV-hFHnXBqZ8HRZBiqcRL6DNw4Kj-DF0DC1Mek3dEbzGuqwO6QDaahvvH_yk/w640-h480/Slide1.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I have a tiny recorder implanted under the skin next to my
heart which records my heartbeats. I’ve
had two of them – their batteries die after 3-5 years and the one in my hand
was the first one – the cardiologist gave it to me as a souvenir after removing
it. On the left is the bedside
receiver-transmitter which collects and sends the data to my
electro-cardiologist’s office. </span></b>Photo
by Judy Greenfield.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">I got a return call
later that day from the cardiology office asking if I could come in the
following morning for a procedure called a “cardioversion”. </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">This would involve small electrical shocks to
get my heart back into a normal rhythm.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">
</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">The heart monitor readouts showed that my heartbeats had been out of
sync and too fast ever since that birthday party the night before I left for
Chile.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">No wonder I had such a tough time
on my trip.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Deep down, I’d known all
along that something wasn’t quite right but it took the camera theft to finally
shake me into reality.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Much as I had wished
pain and suffering on the person who had so stealthily stolen my camera, they had
actually done me a favor by pushing me to go home.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Travel insurance would cover the camera but
the heart situation could have really gotten out of hand, perhaps leading to a
stroke when I was muchos kilómetros from a hospital with specialists who knew my history.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">When I was all decked
out on a gurney with IVs on Tuesday morning awaiting the cardioversion, my
electro-cardiologist of five years and medical hero, Dr. Charles Fuenzalida,
stopped by for a quick chat.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">It seems
that some poor bugger scheduled for an ablation that morning (the procedure I’d
had 15 months earlier) had done a major fuck-up.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">He forgot that he wasn’t supposed to eat or
drink anything for 10 hours before the procedure and had confessed to having a
snack around 4:00 AM.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">So, now the
anesthesiologist wouldn’t touch him, and they had a slot open.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">My doc told me he could do the cardioversion
(a procedure taking only a few minutes) to get back my normal rate and rhythm
but he couldn’t promise that the problem wouldn’t come back again sooner rather
than later.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">He recommended that I have
another ablation.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">They were already to
go because the time slot for the lengthy procedure had just opened up.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">It was up to me.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">I thought for a moment and replied, “Let’s do
it!”</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">A few hours later I
woke up with a normal heartbeat.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">They
kept me in the hospital overnight for observation and released me the next
morning with instructions to do no heavy lifting or vigorous exercise for a few
days.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">They didn’t want me to pop open my
incision which, by the way, was scarcely bothering me at all.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdu217oEr26Eq_IPfvNIzxmJ8iJP8KYwuyVvTWerkK-UAVYVB4cj7meHHG4u4_gyo3V0QZYOgIFqOLiha9qBLOTtfwC591N0zAjykNLTjBxe8lF4X5KmeuRG2MUg41etR2rQ1L2EjK29tMo31b6jmJPgo7_wGbLFL8x34YrZAE56MAJLg5MwCYLvVWhsM/s960/Slide2.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdu217oEr26Eq_IPfvNIzxmJ8iJP8KYwuyVvTWerkK-UAVYVB4cj7meHHG4u4_gyo3V0QZYOgIFqOLiha9qBLOTtfwC591N0zAjykNLTjBxe8lF4X5KmeuRG2MUg41etR2rQ1L2EjK29tMo31b6jmJPgo7_wGbLFL8x34YrZAE56MAJLg5MwCYLvVWhsM/w640-h480/Slide2.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Leaving the hospital the day after my procedure. I was still a bit out of it from the
anesthesia but hey, my heart was back to normal and life was good!</span></b> Photo by Judy Greenfield.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><b> </b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I took it easy for a
few days before getting back to 2-mile-walks, vigorous stationary bike rides,
and push-ups. Except for the residuals
of a bad cold I had picked up in Chile, I’m now feeling just fine. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">So where does the
Wandering Geographer go from here? When
I’ve had bad experiences in life, I’ve tried to learn from them and go on from
there. After my traumatic couple of days in Chile and a wretched two days
returning home, I swore I’d never travel by plane again unless I absolutely had
to and would limit myself in the future to forays by car or train in the U.S.
and Canada. </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Now I’m thinking, “Never
say never”.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">I really enjoy writing and putting
together these posts with the photos.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Frankly,
all the positive feedback I receive from readers of this blog and the large numbers
of people who are looking at my posts make me think I’m on to something that
people find interesting, informative, or may just entertaining.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">I don’t know exactly who all is reading my
stuff but I get a tally of the number of people who have viewed my posts and I’m
pleasantly surprised by the totals.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">I’ll keep pondering all
this while doing some hiking in Arizona this winter and will let you know if I
come up with any answers.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Many thanks
for your support!!! </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></p>Will Mahoneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14657949510251910608noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1334639788072532472.post-42790741537956016222023-11-30T10:51:00.000-08:002023-11-30T11:12:20.596-08:00November 17-18, 2023: Definitive Proof that Flying is Hell!<p><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;">After packing up my bags for the long
trip home, I faced up to the depressing task of writing emails cancelling my
plans for the following week.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;">One went
to Javier Heusserd, the coordinator and national secretary for SERVAS in
Chile.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;">I was due to arrive at his home
west of Santiago by bus later that afternoon.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;">
</span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;">Javier had invited me to spend two days with him and his wife,
Christine.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;">The other email went to </span><span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;">Katterina Cuesta Lepe</span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;">, head of
the Huara Spanish School in Pichilemu where I was to spend five days of
intensive study of Chilean Spanish.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;">(Emails
to two other SERVAS members who had offered me accommodations in the Valparaíso
area later in my trip followed a few days later).</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;">One of
the clerks at the hotel front desk called the police station and got the case
number I needed in order to obtain a copy of the police report I had filed the
previous day for the stolen camera.</span><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;">They
got the necessary number and called me a cab.</span><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;">
</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;">The imposing, modern, white courthouse was a 25-minute drive from the
hotel.</span><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;">After I got out of the cab, a
dignified man in a suit attempted to hand me his business card.</span><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;">The card said he was an “abogado”
(lawyer).</span><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;">I smiled and told him, “No
necesito un abogado” (well, I certainly hoped I didn’t!)</span><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;">After passing through a metal detector and
into the main lobby, I was approached by a small, very dark-skinned black man
(unusual, as there are few black people in Chile and I had not seen one this
black).</span><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;">“Parlez-vous Francais?” he
asked.</span><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;">“Oui, mais je ne parle pas très
bien maintenant parce que je n'ai pas beaucoup d'occasions de pratiquer.” (Yes,
but I don’t speak very well now because I don’t have many opportunities to
practice.)</span><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;">Turns out he was Haitian
(probably a refugee) and spoke French, English, and Spanish in his job helping
foreigners get what they needed at the courthouse.</span><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;">We settled on a mixture of English and
Spanish and he was able to get me the police report copy from a clerk.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;">After a
quick lunch at a café across from the courthouse, I found a cab that took me
back to the hotel. </span><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;">It was now about 1:30
PM and my plane to Miami didn’t leave until 10:30 that night.</span><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;">My bags were stored with the hotel concierge, and I could have spent a few hours seeing some sights in the city.</span><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;">No thanks – all I wanted was to get to the
airport where I could safely hang out, drink tea, and read my Isabel Allende
novel.</span><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;">The hotel clerk suggested I take
the shuttle bus from the station across the street (the cheap and efficient transport
I had used when I first arrived in Chile).</span><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;">
</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;">Nope, I wanted a cab – no waiting around with my stuff in a crowded bus
terminal.</span><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;">Upon
arriving at Santiago’s international terminal, I checked my heavy pack with
American Airlines.</span><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;">I had only been able
to book a middle seat on-line and asked the agent if there were any aisle
seats.</span><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;">He found one for me!</span><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;">So, now I walked several hundred feet to a café
and my cup of tea.</span><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;">After locating a seat
and opening my book, something wasn’t right.</span><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;">
</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;">Oh shit, one of the lenses had popped out of my old bifocal frames.</span><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;">I looked around where I was sitting and where
I had walked in the café area but no lens.</span><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;">
</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;">It was likely somewhere along the long corridor I had traversed after
checking my bag and no doubt crushed by someone’s shoe by now.</span><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;">I had a spare pair of reading glasses and
could get along without distance glasses but what another giant and expensive pain
in the ass.</span><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;">Now, I would have to buy a
new pair of bifocals when I got home.</span><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiylk4e2GQFtRzk-cV8pLdMhWMwU1NxE6VPeAbUuVxxn5NjwFoOGBC7DmjMDDlAoEMB3dngoBux5szUJcTAqh4SIrpzUf83mG1ys0Twplw3d0l8UElfF9NC1lfORDDIjdLixVwVvLf_JpIVY40FonxIUXGQvXHD5zvpHCV8ULtfglkbKVx1dVB7AKEMDhE/s1280/Slide5.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiylk4e2GQFtRzk-cV8pLdMhWMwU1NxE6VPeAbUuVxxn5NjwFoOGBC7DmjMDDlAoEMB3dngoBux5szUJcTAqh4SIrpzUf83mG1ys0Twplw3d0l8UElfF9NC1lfORDDIjdLixVwVvLf_JpIVY40FonxIUXGQvXHD5zvpHCV8ULtfglkbKVx1dVB7AKEMDhE/w640-h360/Slide5.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">The 8½ hour
overnight flight to Miami was torture. I
found it impossible to get any decent sleep.
The fasten-seatbelt sign was on most of the night as there was unstable
air and some turbulence along our route up the west coast of South
America. I was only able to get up once
to use the can. Yes, I had an aisle seat
but flight attendants and others walking past bumped me as did the big guy in the
middle seat. It felt like I was in a
self-imposed straight jacket trying to avoid physical contact with others. My legs were cramped, and I was getting a sore
throat.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;">When
the flight mercifully landed in Miami before 5:00 AM local time, I was now
stuck waiting until the afternoon for my flight to Denver.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;">Southwest wouldn’t let me check my bag until
three hours before the flight, so I had to schlep it around with me.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;">I tried to read but kept nodding off. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;">Lunch – some Asian noodles and a fruit drink
cost $22.00.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;">Once able to check my bag,
I now faced a ginormous security line to get out to the boarding area.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;">I timed it – one hour to get through.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;">The consolation prize was not having to take
off my boots since I am now over 75!</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwHD9HeVmPKTINETiHrUR14baRAJaYn05DGYGBFApGCT3QQzlP661AO4WUhKXdGbIC6FF1k0TuIleHspkM4cdhXrRkEvMb3B6Yw5j6TSS93kiz3gYT8SDZq4nGsmkS5pIc9JcAlMDMlf__Dhht442KPk9xOaLWACHPqszBo6Hgdq7aHZ7tIVduRu-3eDY/s1280/Slide2.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwHD9HeVmPKTINETiHrUR14baRAJaYn05DGYGBFApGCT3QQzlP661AO4WUhKXdGbIC6FF1k0TuIleHspkM4cdhXrRkEvMb3B6Yw5j6TSS93kiz3gYT8SDZq4nGsmkS5pIc9JcAlMDMlf__Dhht442KPk9xOaLWACHPqszBo6Hgdq7aHZ7tIVduRu-3eDY/w640-h360/Slide2.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><b><span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">The train that winds around the lengthy Miami
International Airport terminal has been out of service for at least a month necessitating
long walks between gates. </span></b><span style="background: white; color: #222222;">Photo source: </span><b><span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> </span></b><span style="background: white; color: #222222;">https://www.youtube.com/watch?app=desktop&v=gkQDhqX2jx8</span></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">You
might ask why I don’t have TSA Pre-Check to avoid long security lines. Yes, that’s practical for frequent flyers but
what about someone like me who only takes a couple flights a year? You have to shell out 85 bucks (good for five
years), fill out an application form, have an interview with TSA, and get
fingerprinted. Also, why don’t I pay
extra to sit in an exit row with ample leg room? Frankly, it just pisses me off to have the
airlines nickel and dime me for various upgrades. To remove most of the pain and suffering of
flying, I could have flown business class – IF, I wanted to shell out about
$7,000 for the Miami-Santiago trip. No,
for most of us middle-class mortals, flying SUCKS! And long-distance flying TOTALLY SUCKS! By the way, I used to love flying.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhu4b10qCGR5l2Kp-nCVmbKLiKlTHhd7coa4xL4PCXm7vvDb9o2wmhpDi2DC9pi6bZk_KfKJdB3wmPWpznM2_QOB3-4mDp-EMCK1JlZT_Eo0_b29SjQZPf5hfiPf0RENVBPmSBranLS18apXzKyBKJGbrePCiyYetUIC5rNW-M9ap6JbuXWKe7sNiCZYc/s1280/Slide1.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhu4b10qCGR5l2Kp-nCVmbKLiKlTHhd7coa4xL4PCXm7vvDb9o2wmhpDi2DC9pi6bZk_KfKJdB3wmPWpznM2_QOB3-4mDp-EMCK1JlZT_Eo0_b29SjQZPf5hfiPf0RENVBPmSBranLS18apXzKyBKJGbrePCiyYetUIC5rNW-M9ap6JbuXWKe7sNiCZYc/w640-h360/Slide1.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><b><span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Just another lovely day at MIA! </span></b><span style="background: white; color: #222222; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Photo
source: https://www.theworldorbust.com/miami-international-airport-hacks/<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">The
departure time to Denver was delayed for more than an hour – an equipment
problem, the captain later explained. By
the time the flight left, I had spent about 11 hours in the Miami terminal
(there were earlier flights but none were non-stops). This time I was stuck in a middle seat for
the 4½ hour flight because I had neglected to check in on-line 24 hours in
advance. At least, the guys on either
side of me allowed me my space in the airborne sardine can.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">When I got off the plane in Denver, my a-fib
came back again, and I had to rest before making the long walk to the terminal
train. Another irregular heartbeat
incident occurred when I left the baggage carrousel with my heavy pack. Any exertion seemed to bring on a-fib events –
I didn’t know how I would have managed another 2½ weeks in Chile.</span></span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; text-align: left;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; text-align: left;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDDqVj-PWf5RBjTz5LnInAMclP0NtHVocdD6XE-B1R78ejrZEqrTy2LNPI-mj0EatUyjo8kuhnsSSmKWEwXu48gco1_nrgQM9ENI_mRMiA0og6g1rPLTAB2r48nJbvmgpE9Xy4PQDIRdeVkpkokAItppXHafn1TT3ylZGMqaO0cGYAk9tbHOo8k9AN-Vo/s1280/Slide3.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDDqVj-PWf5RBjTz5LnInAMclP0NtHVocdD6XE-B1R78ejrZEqrTy2LNPI-mj0EatUyjo8kuhnsSSmKWEwXu48gco1_nrgQM9ENI_mRMiA0og6g1rPLTAB2r48nJbvmgpE9Xy4PQDIRdeVkpkokAItppXHafn1TT3ylZGMqaO0cGYAk9tbHOo8k9AN-Vo/w640-h360/Slide3.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><b><span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Good luck finding your way around DIA!</span></b><span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> </span><span style="background: white; color: #222222; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Photo
source: https://www.denver7.com/news/local-news/new-report-faults-dia-for-heavy-handed-oversight-that-contributed-to-breakdown-of-great-hall-project<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">The
Denver airport terminal is in the middle of major renovation and with partitions,
closed-off areas, and poor signage all around, I found myself unable to get to
the airport bus area. <span style="font-family: inherit;"> <o:p></o:p></span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I came to a T-intersection
of corridors and, I shit you not, there were the following two signs:</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6M7wCCny5qxZ9vB3G4ZUcxFuIJjuFYEcmPDeVoebFBcxzyutMJiM0Nn9ubYs2a7pgBwiLygvluxxX_7J90y8cWuoaNY7v9cVZ84KaC_5infy5QC-fxv-wSfuC4YWSqRQ6aJO-GoeFtjzbJmIqmC_mPxc6jCMjOMcIZ8ToCMy5G1eW6P7nWew_cZqxV-4/s1280/buses%20&%20trains.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="144" data-original-width="1280" height="72" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6M7wCCny5qxZ9vB3G4ZUcxFuIJjuFYEcmPDeVoebFBcxzyutMJiM0Nn9ubYs2a7pgBwiLygvluxxX_7J90y8cWuoaNY7v9cVZ84KaC_5infy5QC-fxv-wSfuC4YWSqRQ6aJO-GoeFtjzbJmIqmC_mPxc6jCMjOMcIZ8ToCMy5G1eW6P7nWew_cZqxV-4/w640-h72/buses%20&%20trains.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">After
two days of hell, I wanted to line up the airport managers and slap them silly
but I had to find my bus. I actually had
to ask directions in a terminal I’d been using for 28 years! I found the bus just in time (there is only
one per hour) and Judy was waiting for me at the Nine Mile Park and Ride
Station. Ain’t it good to be back home
again!<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;">I will
follow up tomorrow with an addendum about the outcome of my heart issues.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; text-align: left;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>Will Mahoneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14657949510251910608noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1334639788072532472.post-51013291978735715632023-11-29T13:36:00.000-08:002023-11-29T13:50:10.554-08:00Thursday, 11/16/23: My Trip Completely Falls Apart<p><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;">After breakfast, I
took a short walk over to bus terminal where I found an electronics store.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;">I needed a Chilean SIM card for my
phone.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;">It was fine using wifi in hotels
for my computer for emails and the news but, out on the street, I especially
needed Google Maps to navigate, find restaurants, bus stations, etc.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;">Verizon had wanted an extra $10 a day to use
my phone (including calls, texts, and internet) outside the US.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;">Unless I was going to be using the phone most
of the day for business purposes that was a big rip-off.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;">A tech-savvy friend had suggested an e-SIM card
app, Airalo, which offered reasonably-priced country plans without physically
changing the little SIM card in the phone.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;">
</span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;">Great idea but I learned that my Samsung Galaxy A10e phone is too old to
be able to use this app.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;">My phone is
maybe five years old, and I guess you’re now expected to buy a new phone every
couple of years – grrrrr.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">For about $11, the
store clerk sold me a Chilean SIM card (good for 30 days) and physically
exchanged the tiny thing for my American card which she carefully taped to a
business card so I wouldn’t lose it.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">So
now I had a Chilean phone number and access to the web from my cell.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">When I was initially
planning my trip, I had learned that there was new high-speed train service
from Santiago, south through the central valley to the city of Chillán, a
distance of 400 km (250 miles) which was covered in less than four hours.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Being a train enthusiast, I included that
trip in my itinerary.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">However, a few
weeks before I left for Chile, I read that service had temporarily been suspended
south of the city of Rancagua 90 km (55 miles) from Santiago.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Heavy winter rains and snowmelt had caused
flooding in the area wiping out one of the rail bridges.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">I got the impression that the destroyed
bridge was just south of Rancagua.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">
</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Looking at a map, I assumed that it must have been the bridge crossing
the wide Cachapoal River, the only stream of any significance in the area.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">My objective for
Thursday was to take a train 90 km (55 miles) south to the city of Rancagua.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">It would at least give me a feel for Chilean
train service, provide an opportunity to get photos of the destroyed bridge,
and see if any progress was being made to repair or replace it.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">If I could get some good photos, I figured
that a railroad magazine might be interested in a little story about the
situation.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF_91BX-cN20ng7rHj0fmIe889BuDVZ-dkIf15FLa4Q_sXqrSVn0293ZOrx6D99GcUXlhhi8-C8O0-eZAwBogY4CNGiWA_SpnZ1E76iSilFaCrNHygCH_99PrsQdLNV10lTbApKiVK1W4lei7txaUTDO_J8ZuwXleftDZxKBQ5VKied1t3iOLHKZCL96Q/s1280/Slide2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF_91BX-cN20ng7rHj0fmIe889BuDVZ-dkIf15FLa4Q_sXqrSVn0293ZOrx6D99GcUXlhhi8-C8O0-eZAwBogY4CNGiWA_SpnZ1E76iSilFaCrNHygCH_99PrsQdLNV10lTbApKiVK1W4lei7txaUTDO_J8ZuwXleftDZxKBQ5VKied1t3iOLHKZCL96Q/w640-h360/Slide2.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Modern, Chinese-built, express trains were introduced in Chile in
early 2023. </span></b>Photo
source: https://www.railwaygazette.com/passenger/first-bi-mode-inter-city-trainset-for-chile-on-test/63354.article<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The station was a 10-minute
walk from my hotel, and I purchased a round-trip ticket for less than
$3.00. The train was modern, clean, and
nearly full of passengers. The cancelled
express train had been non-stop to Rancagua but this one was a commuter train
and made eight stops along the way. The
trip through the central valley took about 75 minutes. There were some nice views of the mountains
to the east once we got out of the Santiago metro area but, like many rail
lines in the U.S., it went through a number of scuzzy industrial and poor
residential areas. Perhaps the route
south of Rancagua was nicer but I wouldn’t recommend this stretch. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Once arriving at the
Rancagua station, I started walking streets south along the rail line in the direction
of the bridge.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">I had figured it was
about a mile from the station but I hadn’t looked carefully enough at Google
Maps.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">After about 20 minutes, I realized
it was further and there was no good pedestrian access to it.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">I hailed a cab.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">The driver was confused when I told him I
wanted to go “al puente del ferrocarril destruido por las inundaciones
recientes” (the railway bridge destroyed by the recent floods) but I got him to
take me in the correct direction.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">He
stopped just on the other side of the highway bridge crossing the Río Cachapoal.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">The railway bridge was adjacent to the
highway.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">I hoofed it a few hundred feet
back along the rail line to the bridge.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">
</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">I looked at it from both the left and right sides and there appeared to
be absolutely nothing wrong with it.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">When I got back to the
cab, I was able to discern through the driver’s challenging Chilean accent that
he knew of no bridges in the Rancagua area that had been destroyed or damaged
by the winter floods.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">So, the damaged bridge
was obviously somewhere further south.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">I
hadn’t done adequate homework – certainly, I wasn’t much of a journalist given
such sloppiness.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">In my defense, it had
really been hard to get the detailed information I needed off the
internet.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">The driver dropped me
at a Chinese restaurant not far from the train station where I had a big bowl
of vegetable soup for lunch.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Actually,
there were also some tiny shrimp in the broth.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">
</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">In Chile, vegetarian seems to mean no beef – chicken or fish don’t seem
to count.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">On the way back to the
station, I walked along a street closed to traffic which was full of vendors
with their products spread out on blankets on the pavement.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Each seemed to specialize in various types of
consumer goods.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">The train back to
Santiago was downright boring.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">It was
older than the one I’d taken in the morning.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">
</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">It was also shabby with dirty windows.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">
</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Still, it was fast and punctual.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">When I arrived back in
Santiago around 4:30, I was again met with a plethora of street vendors both in
the station and along the Avenida O’Higgins (named for Bernardo O’Higgins, a 19</span><sup>th</sup><span style="font-size: 14pt;">
Century leader of the Chilean independence movement).</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Their impromptu “stores” made for colorful
street life which I eagerly photographed as I made my way back to my hotel. </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">The sidewalk was busy with pedestrians but not
overly crowded so I was not bumping into people. My small Canon camera fit
conveniently into my pants pocket.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">I
always had it attached with a thin cable to a carabiner on a belt loop.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">If I dropped it, the cable would save it; I
wouldn’t absent-mindedly leave it somewhere; and the cable would act as a deterrent
to would-be thieves or so I thought.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Just as I was arriving
at the hotel, I reached into my pants pocket for the camera.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">My heart sank to the soles of my shoes as I
pulled out the cable finding only a frayed end where the camera had been
attached.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">The camera was gone!</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">I had felt nothing – no one had bumped me on
the sidewalk, and I’d had no sensation of movement in my pocket.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">How could this have happened?</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">My heart was racing
out of control again as I approached the front desk and told the clerk what had
happened.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">I must have looked faint with
all the color drained from my face.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">The
clerk insisted I sit down on one of the chairs in the lobby and he immediately
brought me a glass of water.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Did I have
travel insurance?</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Yes.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Well, then I would need to file a report with
the police for my insurance to cover the loss.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">
</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">I knew this and figured the clerk must have had ample experience with
foreign guests getting ripped off on the street.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">He would get me a ride to the police station
at no charge and said he was very ashamed that something like this would happen
to a visitor to his country.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Did I want
something to eat while I was waiting for the ride?</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">He brought me a menu from their grill, and I
ordered a veggie burger with fries.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7c2ZSl1hUgMAvZRAK89iJw5QOwEPc1xM12pEaf4yX6jhYHvnhvre4tfv73wAiEEodvQnj9jqxtdXX7Q5uMNGFPJOSe5r4bMpnAsGHY8tUgs0YOEHJ3kvRga88piqn7o1JkMjZgoZdjtfjhF9kyxcJAqi0ZgcvRPSFX1U8jCLV3Dj7ZalWksAWtmLNFR0/s1280/Slide4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7c2ZSl1hUgMAvZRAK89iJw5QOwEPc1xM12pEaf4yX6jhYHvnhvre4tfv73wAiEEodvQnj9jqxtdXX7Q5uMNGFPJOSe5r4bMpnAsGHY8tUgs0YOEHJ3kvRga88piqn7o1JkMjZgoZdjtfjhF9kyxcJAqi0ZgcvRPSFX1U8jCLV3Dj7ZalWksAWtmLNFR0/w640-h360/Slide4.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I went over the
incident in my mind. I had assumed I was
safe by staying off the streets at night, walking on main streets (not back
alleys), and keeping my valuables in less-accessible parts of my person. Someone had obviously been watching me taking
photos and had spotted the weak link in my camera attachment – a sturdy but
thin 1-inch string that attached the camera to the cable. They were so crafty that they were able to
pull the camera out of my pocket without my feeling it while quickly slitting
the string, probably with a knife. With
criminals this skillful, how could I ever feel safe again travelling? The instant I had found that the camera was
gone, something snapped in my brain. I
felt that the Wandering Geographer was done – it was all over. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">A driver dropped me at
the police station, and I waited for over an hour before a handsome, young, and
perky “carabinero” took my report.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">I
would have to call this office back tomorrow to get a case number, then go to
the main courthouse with the case number to get a hard copy of the
report.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">All this to get insurance
reimbursement for a $400 camera – I wondered if it was worth it.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">I felt I had to get
out of Chile and back home as soon as possible.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">
</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Once back at the hotel, I got on-line and to my pleasant surprise, there
were a few seats available on the American flight to Miami the following night
(Friday).</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">I was also able to change my
ticket on Southwest and book a flight on Saturday afternoon from Miami to
Denver.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">And, next I did
something I should have done the previous day when I became upset about the
$200 I had thought was stolen.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">I faced
up to what I’d been avoiding – an actual accounting of the dollars I had spent
and exchanged plus the dollars I still had.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">
</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">I had left Denver with a little over $600 in cash.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">When I now counted up the dollars I had and
listed the dollars I remembered spending and exchanging, the total came to
$597.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Despite all the trauma I’d been
through, I suddenly felt a bit elated.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">I
hadn’t been robbed of the cash after all.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Should I reconsider
returning home?</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> With the camera stollen, </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">I had lost three days of photos that I hadn't gotten around to downloading. I could still take
photos with my phone (I had rarely used it in the past and wasn’t sure that the
quality would be very good). </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Was I being
a quitter unable to overcome a little adversity? </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Maybe I could buy a new camera in Santiago. </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Yes, but what about the situation with my heart?</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">And with the trauma I had experienced over
the camera, what kind of a guest would I be when staying with three different SERVAS
families in the coming two weeks?</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">How
could I be upbeat and paper over my sour mood?</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">
</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">And how well would I be able to focus on my Spanish studies which I had
scheduled for the following week with a teacher in a small Pacific beach
town?</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">I would sleep on it
but when I woke up in the middle of the night, I decided that I would stick
with my new return schedule.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">As events
proved over the next six days, it was the best decision.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">
</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></p>Will Mahoneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14657949510251910608noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1334639788072532472.post-23781131242810260482023-11-28T11:15:00.000-08:002023-11-28T11:16:53.007-08:00Wednesday, 11/15/23: My Trip Starts to Fall Apart<p><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;">Bright and early on
Wednesday morning, I started packing for my return trip to Chile.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;">I was itchy to get on the road again and
hoped to have a couple hours to write up another blog post.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;">My bus wasn’t leaving Mendoza until 1:00 PM.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">I had split up my
cash, two credit cards, two debit cards, driver’s license, and Medicare I.D.
card among a money belt with hidden zipper, a travel wallet worn around my neck
(where I also carried my passport), an ankle wallet worn under my left sock,
and a regular wallet where I carried a few bucks as a decoy in case I was
robbed.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">While verifying that everything
was where it should be, I opened up the small zippered pocket of the neck
wallet.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">There was supposed to be a
Capital One credit card and a Schwab debit card in there but the debit card was
missing.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">I had only used it once – at an
ATM in the Santiago airport terminal upon my arrival.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Certainly, I wouldn’t have left it in the ATM
machine – I’ve never done that.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">I looked
everywhere in my stuff and the room but the Schwab card was gone or in some
obscure place where I hadn’t looked.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">
</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">This was very upsetting – I didn’t know how someone could use it without
the pin number (which was written down only in my brain) but loosing something
that important was totally unacceptable.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivU092eER5HoMn9WZjGvDu1KLAicZBj1FD0I7lQELreAFmT4kHe_FpZs4hEPKgQjO2vIHIzjguHepu_7b_rAdVR-d3c8NWFSGWOJoVwZhfguEMmMjiGGBpQoPOhM1AzF_vtXHq_gZihyphenhyphendO1aWwAsRtjMqmQNr76YrcOyA-DdBNNDigZLgz34v9OSrgl4Q/s1280/Slide1.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivU092eER5HoMn9WZjGvDu1KLAicZBj1FD0I7lQELreAFmT4kHe_FpZs4hEPKgQjO2vIHIzjguHepu_7b_rAdVR-d3c8NWFSGWOJoVwZhfguEMmMjiGGBpQoPOhM1AzF_vtXHq_gZihyphenhyphendO1aWwAsRtjMqmQNr76YrcOyA-DdBNNDigZLgz34v9OSrgl4Q/w640-h360/Slide1.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Waiting at the Mendoza bus station<o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Around noon, the people
at the hotel desk called a cab to get me to the bus station. As I was riding through the streets of Mendoza
one last time, it occurred to me that there were a couple of things I was
surprised to not have seen in this city of one million plus inhabitants (metro
area population). The first was the
refreshing absence of homeless people or beggars on the streets or in the parks. I have no doubt there are poor people in
Mendoza, especially given Argentina’s economic challenges. But where were they? Perhaps the police don’t tolerate them living
on the streets and maybe there are government programs insuring they have some
minimal housing. Also, I doubt there is
an ACLU-equivalent in Argentina insisting on their rights to be public
nuisances. Another surprising absence was
any sign of the upcoming presidential election – no posters, banners, rallies,
or cars with loudspeakers urging a vote for their candidates. Perhaps Argentine television was full of the
campaign but I am so used to not watching television that I never even bothered
turning on the “tube” in my room.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAOVeW0HO8dSoXdN_-WUC-mLOOxxQZFZo0dJewjAztg3R2YhPGKVP_SK6t86gKSw1pAZ2wPB2hOO4gsGRRElC1U_cDH_Xou4mhjWtSphl_yvgR_xK5pAm21XFFw7R0Z0zW-oMe_PfKPQQ7nbv1lBJmC9d0cP2GhSrjM6-1zpCxuEro0GLumV8MQ2hqLTw/s1280/Slide2.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAOVeW0HO8dSoXdN_-WUC-mLOOxxQZFZo0dJewjAztg3R2YhPGKVP_SK6t86gKSw1pAZ2wPB2hOO4gsGRRElC1U_cDH_Xou4mhjWtSphl_yvgR_xK5pAm21XFFw7R0Z0zW-oMe_PfKPQQ7nbv1lBJmC9d0cP2GhSrjM6-1zpCxuEro0GLumV8MQ2hqLTw/w640-h360/Slide2.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">My bus window provided a moveable
feast full of photo ops of jagged Andean peaks.<o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">My Andesmar bus back
to Santiago was the same design as the one I had taken to Mendoza six days
earlier. I settled into my single reserved
seat with comfortable leg room and looked forward to my long ride through the
Andes. My window gave me views in the
opposite direction from what I had had on the previous trip. Generally, the views were not as good as
before because I was right up against the steep mountainsides instead of
looking across the valley of the Mendoza River at more distant but visible
peaks. As we neared the border, my map
told me that Cerro (Mount) Aconcagua was only a couple dozen miles or so (as
the condor flies) to the north which my window faced. At 6962 meters (22,841 feet) elevation, it is
the highest mountain in the Western Hemisphere and, really, the highest outside
the Himalayas and their associated ranges in Asia. I spotted a number of rugged, towering,
snow-shrouded peaks to the north and was never sure whether one of the
impressive summits was Aconcagua.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcVRVqRapIiVRYiqcdN23SYfRMd2x2X0fCMEFYhieqVZAVH37nkbu-XUDUXncggv49W8ZBcn7fEsLtiAw6TKWuVcZe8IxDtVJIqWqcHrx-04BcSnx4h8QxVIjSVOrQC-XRCGD_eWYbSfxc4nCvJqUXASTboRvHtrwGGxliDazQVL7QjlWOtT88v6xYhkM/s1280/Slide3.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcVRVqRapIiVRYiqcdN23SYfRMd2x2X0fCMEFYhieqVZAVH37nkbu-XUDUXncggv49W8ZBcn7fEsLtiAw6TKWuVcZe8IxDtVJIqWqcHrx-04BcSnx4h8QxVIjSVOrQC-XRCGD_eWYbSfxc4nCvJqUXASTboRvHtrwGGxliDazQVL7QjlWOtT88v6xYhkM/w640-h360/Slide3.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Cerro Aconcagua, the Western Hemisphere’s highest
summit. I never had this exact view from
my bus window so I’m not sure I saw it.
Thanks, <i>National Geographic</i>,
for providing this impressive on-line photo: </span></b><a href="https://education.nationalgeographic.org/resource/cerro-aconcagua/">https://education.nationalgeographic.org/resource/cerro-aconcagua/</a><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">As noted in a previous
post, the highway crosses the border between Argentina and Chile through a
3-km-long tunnel at an elevation of about 3,200 meters (10,500 feet).</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">The Chilean border post is several kilometers
below the tunnel.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">When we arrived there,
passengers were told they had to bring all their belongings into the building
for a customs inspection.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Checked
luggage was brought in on large baggage carts.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">
</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">The inspection was rather thorough (including an x-ray machine) – I had
to open up one of my bags.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">It was also
more efficient than the process for getting into Argentina – this time we were
back on the bus in less than an hour.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">No luggage cart was
provided following the customs inspection, and I slowly schlepped all my stuff back
to the bus handing my backpack up to a man in the luggage compartment.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">After putting my smaller two bags in my seat,
I decided to climb the stairs to have a look at the seating in the upper level
of the bus.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">I saw that the front row of
seats on level two may have been smaller than my first-class seat but there was
a view forward.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">I now knew I had screwed
up when making my reservations.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">The
on-line diagrams did not make it clear that my first-class seat did not have a
forward view of the highway but the cheaper seats on level 2 did.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">It’s the sort of important detail that can’t
be found in a Lonely Planet guidebook.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">When I arrived back at
my seat – oh shit! – my heart was racing </span><span style="font-size: 18.6667px;">irregularly,</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> and I felt faint. </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">After a couple minutes, it calmed back down
to what seemed to be normal but now what?</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">At this juncture, a
bit of background is needed.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">As my high school
classmate and good buddy, Larry, said when we got together after our 55</span><sup>th</sup><span style="font-size: 14pt;">
high school class reunion a few years back, “Gee, Will, you know how it is with
us old people.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">When we get together, we
talk about our surgeries and ailments.”</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">
</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">I recalled that when we used to get together, our conversational
subjects were fast cars and fast women.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">So,
here is a quick summary.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">In a previous post, I noted the connection
between my alcohol consumption and irregular heartbeat episodes.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Thanks to giving up booze, a couple of
previous medical procedures (called ablations), and pills to slow down my heart
rate, I had not had an “a-fib” episode for the past year and a half – until after
a big birthday party bash for a friend less than 2 days before I was to leave
on this trip.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">I was feeling stressed out
about the upcoming trip and ate too much at the party.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">An hour after hitting the hay, I woke up with
a-fib.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">It seemed to return to normal
after about 3 hours but I didn’t get much sleep.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">That last day before leaving on the trip, my
heart seemed to be beating regularly but too fast.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">I could have called my cardiologist’s office
or gone to the ER but I figured that would derail my trip.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Nothing was going to stop this trip – damnit!</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">So now, I was paying
the price and recalled that I hadn’t felt 100% ever since that aforementioned
birthday party.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Was the incident at the
border post a fluke?</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">After all, I was
carrying a big load of stuff at about 9000 feet above sea level.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">But, hey, I had been hiking with a pack up at
12,000 feet in Colorado a few months earlier with no ill effects.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">When I got off the bus
in Santiago, I handed a luggage guy the claim check for my bag.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">As I started walking away with the bag, he
starts yelling at me, “propina, propina”!</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">
</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Jesus H. Christ, here I am with my hands full after a 7-hour bus ride, I’m
feeling wasted, and this SOB expects me to drop my stuff and search in my
wallet for some pesos for a tip.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Screw
him!</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Speaking of pesos, I
needed some Chilean ones and found an ATM machine in the bus station.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Allah be praised!</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">My remaining Fidelity ATM card worked and I
scored 200,000 CLPs (more than US$200).</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">
</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Whew!</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">As I struggled along with
all my gear over to the bakery to pick up dinner (a couple of filling spinach and
mushroom empañadas and a fruit drink), I had to stop and rest – my heart was at
it again.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Luckily, I had had the
foresight to reserve a room for the night at the Hotel Ibis where I had stayed
the previous week and which was located right across the street from the bus
station.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">But what about this heart
thing?</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">When I got to my room,
I started obsessing about the lost ATM card and looked for it again.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">I noticed that the zippered pocket where I
had stashed US$200 was open and empty.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Of
fuck, did I get ripped off at the hotel in Mendoza?</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">I recalled that I had been somewhat careless
about my stuff in that room (I hadn’t secured it in a bag with one of my travel
padlocks).</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Pedro and I had kept the room
locked at all times but could the maid have gotten into my stuff?</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">It was a small, friendly, family-run hotel
and it hadn’t occurred to me that she would have been on the prowl for American
cash (and the ATM card).</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Stupid, stupid
me!</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">What the hell is wrong with my
friggin’ brain?</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">
</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></p>Will Mahoneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14657949510251910608noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1334639788072532472.post-52780362539173771262023-11-27T15:03:00.000-08:002023-11-28T11:16:36.786-08:00Tuesday, 11/14/23: A Quiet but Disappointing Day Following the Conference<p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Most of the SERVAS conference
participants left by Tuesday morning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>However, I had scheduled my return bus trip from Mendoza to Santiago,
Chile on Wednesday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I learned that five
of the conference participants were driving to the Villavicencio Thermal Baths an
hour northwest of Mendoza on Tuesday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They had a full car of five but on Monday, I spoke with Roxana Novoa
from Peru who was also staying an extra day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She agreed that sharing a cab up to the baths and spending the day there
was a great idea.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2SIuMBuN2Jd3WgwswQEpm8Y251tNW20_BJwpvPMuiXhyphenhyphenWIzi46XJHAS7wlAubIfUn-V4u0S0XA0kzPacB8xbgyAIJ_T7iZBTia7QOGJt1-PtpAm9_THqv5HKhjKDXkO7pQq7hUhvznl3MbdWvVBz8Xan_9X2tHm7nbhd7fUNnSQcEfI8wcqxtj0f4FEY/s1280/Slide1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2SIuMBuN2Jd3WgwswQEpm8Y251tNW20_BJwpvPMuiXhyphenhyphenWIzi46XJHAS7wlAubIfUn-V4u0S0XA0kzPacB8xbgyAIJ_T7iZBTia7QOGJt1-PtpAm9_THqv5HKhjKDXkO7pQq7hUhvznl3MbdWvVBz8Xan_9X2tHm7nbhd7fUNnSQcEfI8wcqxtj0f4FEY/w640-h360/Slide1.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The thermal baths at Villavicencio, Argentina would have been
a relaxing setting for the day following the conference. I was bummed that the
trip to the baths didn’t work out. Bad
planning on my part, I suppose. </span></b>Photo source: <a href="https://www.tripadvisor.es/Attraction_Review-g3364428-d2695261-Reviews-Reserva_Natural_Villavicencio-Las_Heras_Province_of_Mendoza_Cuyo.html#/media-atf/2695261/714917160:p/?albumid=-160&type=0&category=-160">https://www.tripadvisor.es/Attraction_Review-g3364428-d2695261-Reviews-Reserva_Natural_Villavicencio-Las_Heras_Province_of_Mendoza_Cuyo.html#/media-atf/2695261/714917160:p/?albumid=-160&type=0&category=-160</a><o:p></o:p></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">When I found Roxana on
Tuesday morning, she had changed her mind.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">
</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">She was burned out from the hectic four-day conference and was going to
relax at the Mendoza home of a local SERVAS member.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">I didn’t fault her decision but what would I
do now?</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Today’s busses to Santiago were
all full so I couldn’t change my reservation and go back to Chile a day early.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">I checked with the
hotel staff about transport to the baths.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">
</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">After making inquiries, they told me they could find me transportation
there but all tickets to the baths for Tuesday were sold out.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Well, shit.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">
</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">How was I supposed to know that they had a limit on the daily number of
visitors?</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">I was disappointed but
resigned myself to a quiet day of writing and walking a bit in the city.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">I also went back to the same two eateries I
had found the previous day.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhgGjU0bGCHkRFRRRYhCMob-OHDbn4EaJnXJ5292SF_jC-EQNiiuhVzqPneZkjRNPtudo9QzghjZThv79J2rG1STVw019FanSELtb9CmruXSPx69g2ZUIYLNdqF-goGX66KTNEwTPPDLvZKKwnfIncy3OWdu8dSl-eCr9tVKltWKck91lBlgBJyjxF128/s1280/Slide2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhgGjU0bGCHkRFRRRYhCMob-OHDbn4EaJnXJ5292SF_jC-EQNiiuhVzqPneZkjRNPtudo9QzghjZThv79J2rG1STVw019FanSELtb9CmruXSPx69g2ZUIYLNdqF-goGX66KTNEwTPPDLvZKKwnfIncy3OWdu8dSl-eCr9tVKltWKck91lBlgBJyjxF128/w640-h360/Slide2.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyWucauoMTUxTVgo2UFQIsAsIajAUVVVMF_h3RohLRyjpCwH0PtMwsdhNXotGoB6bl4LXfiUkElCMdPM7xeHhKm_BH9YscXQ_PGMc-05s6yfbDzP2KeY4DUjg-8eB6HpBVhMGzorKu4LQy1NC6QFRM_itbg5sF8GhUoHOzayWntQ4G9GyVnSGSJSetXXs/s1280/Slide4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyWucauoMTUxTVgo2UFQIsAsIajAUVVVMF_h3RohLRyjpCwH0PtMwsdhNXotGoB6bl4LXfiUkElCMdPM7xeHhKm_BH9YscXQ_PGMc-05s6yfbDzP2KeY4DUjg-8eB6HpBVhMGzorKu4LQy1NC6QFRM_itbg5sF8GhUoHOzayWntQ4G9GyVnSGSJSetXXs/w640-h360/Slide4.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The dry landscape around Mendoza reminded
me of parts of Arizona.<o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><br /></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><b></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHvQ_61-4OrvYf9Y5XGZDLCawY1Cgt0jjRbdL6h-YmgJQ5a8MsS1AY55rewUNnShHfF7_UseLAKoqaUF6YHATh3fqD86UZlt7McrjTMx1oY0XluEXGdzxpuypF-X-odDJx798CjDfFM57zYwf6wSOXRinVQRFHVjbY_zf3wIccjCQIBOGrFamfkRBsjzc/s1280/Slide3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHvQ_61-4OrvYf9Y5XGZDLCawY1Cgt0jjRbdL6h-YmgJQ5a8MsS1AY55rewUNnShHfF7_UseLAKoqaUF6YHATh3fqD86UZlt7McrjTMx1oY0XluEXGdzxpuypF-X-odDJx798CjDfFM57zYwf6wSOXRinVQRFHVjbY_zf3wIccjCQIBOGrFamfkRBsjzc/w640-h360/Slide3.JPG" width="640" /></a></b></div><p></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Jacarandas and a colorful wall mural
along a Mendoza residential street<o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></p><p>
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p><br /><p></p>Will Mahoneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14657949510251910608noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1334639788072532472.post-28406841958844153022023-11-26T14:39:00.000-08:002023-11-26T14:39:52.121-08:00Monday, 11/13/23: A rousing SERVAS finale in Mendoza<p><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;">At the final morning
of the SERVAS Latin America meeting in Mendoza, International President, Radha
Radhakrishna, proposed an idea for a new youth scholarship program.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;">Every years, two students would be chosen
from a worldwide pool of applicants.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;">
</span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;">They would get an expense-paid, one-month trip to South America and
would be provided housing with a local SERVAS family.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;">During their visit, they would study Spanish
and would write up and submit a report about their experiences to SERVAS upon
returning to their home countries.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRjJf6et64_GGddaeGJ1kbPx9iRmSdESLZavsz0gHWY2uDjgmIuxGSoxHAn97Lfi_uuWI7JdLWG0P1_a45wcIrrHRgQwvgLRkOxLhZrn4JDkcV9rIt6OQW8TcRmQNvREIXO7rfgAY3VYFg27ZbKj5z59DLzKj03us6otPaNhdRNDE-wEGUxCEYDMF2C0w/s1280/20231113%20photos.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRjJf6et64_GGddaeGJ1kbPx9iRmSdESLZavsz0gHWY2uDjgmIuxGSoxHAn97Lfi_uuWI7JdLWG0P1_a45wcIrrHRgQwvgLRkOxLhZrn4JDkcV9rIt6OQW8TcRmQNvREIXO7rfgAY3VYFg27ZbKj5z59DLzKj03us6otPaNhdRNDE-wEGUxCEYDMF2C0w/w640-h360/20231113%20photos.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">My guess is that Radha’s
proposed scholarship program or something like it will happen. SERVAS has done a great job carrying out
programs like this and Radha’s enthusiasm and fresh ideas will no doubt prove
fruitful. I am impressed at how SERVAS
is able to function so successfully as an all-volunteer-run organization. As an American, my dues are only $33 per year
and I suspect that membership is even cheaper in less-developed countries. And get this – the 4-day conference fee was
only $50 and that included most lunches, dinners, and transportation. SERVAS International must have been subsidizing
some of the costs.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinFZ8h3HBPjg3EisXTnRkbXPRCcpOxe3ABo2X4798kjdybJqa2Expr1B0W4kjbp6gYEDgLOJXWGrwKvEGt7kZiNS96zN9Im6u9lJ9KdRAmOVq0ssgHX3WcIypaZ9-ZiMlPtNpkj6Ec5TBiTaBdcNzlFmqOC64EgiTnGQbIR1ozmhhFpV-aK2MKyy3MWyY/s1280/Slide2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinFZ8h3HBPjg3EisXTnRkbXPRCcpOxe3ABo2X4798kjdybJqa2Expr1B0W4kjbp6gYEDgLOJXWGrwKvEGt7kZiNS96zN9Im6u9lJ9KdRAmOVq0ssgHX3WcIypaZ9-ZiMlPtNpkj6Ec5TBiTaBdcNzlFmqOC64EgiTnGQbIR1ozmhhFpV-aK2MKyy3MWyY/w640-h360/Slide2.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I stayed six nights at
the conference hotel: $150 total for a
shared room with private bath and breakfast.
Argentina seems very inexpensive these days and businesses like payment
in U.S. dollars. I was advised to bring
greenbacks with me. It’s not surprising
given Argentina’s current problems with rampant inflation. I’m no economist so it’s hard for me to
understand why a country with a healthy tourist economy and a relatively skilled
labor force which exports tons of beef, wheat, wine, and minerals has so many
financial problems. It was obvious to me
that something was seriously wrong given the large discrepancy between the
official and black market rate for the Argentine peso. Officially, it was about 350 pesos to the
dollar but I was getting 800 to 850 pesos when I changed money at the
hotel. Thankfully, I had plenty of American
cash so I didn’t have to get screwed by the official rate at ATM machines!</span></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Later in the morning,
Francisco Luna, a computer whiz from Mexico, gave us a presentation on updates
to the SERVAS website which, by the way, you can visit to learn more about the
organization: <a href="https://www.servas.org/">https://www.servas.org/</a>. As on previous days, Chilean organizer,
Javier Heusserd, kept the group moving along with his whistle which he employed
like a sports referee to get the attention of the conference’s talkative Latin
participants. I found it all very
amusing!<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMIu63ub4bRMnyljhp2hzWKRHg_4cn3gvtopnPWjx5dQfejAtd53g1-zzP8fEpPFXMYqvqNElKrN5of0qpmAVMdObFAWXg0xWkXWOBRFpekGUVXE0NlsTEHajAZx_ohVP-X6uC8hnk7x006IL0cQsYt3Ytzlzh7kTBun6CvhZS4Tg-3ZTAymo8L572_c4/s1280/Slide3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMIu63ub4bRMnyljhp2hzWKRHg_4cn3gvtopnPWjx5dQfejAtd53g1-zzP8fEpPFXMYqvqNElKrN5of0qpmAVMdObFAWXg0xWkXWOBRFpekGUVXE0NlsTEHajAZx_ohVP-X6uC8hnk7x006IL0cQsYt3Ytzlzh7kTBun6CvhZS4Tg-3ZTAymo8L572_c4/w640-h360/Slide3.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Left: Francisco Luna
gives us an update on the SERVAS website.
Right: SERVAS International
President, Radha Rhadhakrishna, receives his certificate of conference participation
from Javier Heusserd (Chile) and Ana Sánchez (Argentina). Radha is originally from India but currently
lives in Connecticut. </span></b>Photos
courtesy of SERVAS.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The final event was
presentation of certificates to each of participants. Upon receipt of my certificate, I told the
group “muchas gracias” for their patience with my poor Spanish
comprehension. I had the impression that
they could understand my Spanish better than I could understand theirs!<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Now that I was on my
own for meals, I found an Asian fusion carryout joint less than a 10-minute
walk from the hotel where I ordered a delicious and inexpensive veggie noodle
dish.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">In the evening, I encountered a
vegan grocery store with carryout meals right along a main thoroughfare.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Any ideas I’d had that Argentina was a
strictly carnivore country were quickly put to rest.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF9ipA2QoGYidGugis16o4DUWJ7Q5cT-4w9sNLU2gHrIKRm5Pqa3P60aPGXdYOS8ZVWhNxnlxcF9xRNVnHJw2awqvFWEjEu-yqKIkHW4l1N_DutATgLE7S57Lk33-rXS1Ef2o-PAEGI3KWos7PyoqI4cgrkAUu0s5Gq7qR4Z9I3OtGYtiMFanuiZomMtc/s1280/Slide4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF9ipA2QoGYidGugis16o4DUWJ7Q5cT-4w9sNLU2gHrIKRm5Pqa3P60aPGXdYOS8ZVWhNxnlxcF9xRNVnHJw2awqvFWEjEu-yqKIkHW4l1N_DutATgLE7S57Lk33-rXS1Ef2o-PAEGI3KWos7PyoqI4cgrkAUu0s5Gq7qR4Z9I3OtGYtiMFanuiZomMtc/w640-h360/Slide4.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Modern trolley cars transport Mendozans along the Avenida
Belgrano where I grabbed dinner.<o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p>
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p><p><br /><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;"><br /></span></p>Will Mahoneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14657949510251910608noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1334639788072532472.post-75697937284519881062023-11-25T16:12:00.000-08:002023-11-25T17:06:28.745-08:00Sunday, 11/12/23: A Glimpse of Mendoza and Dining Challenges<p><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;">After yoga and
breakfast on Sunday, the SERVAS morning schedule called for a workshop on “comunicación
amorosa” (loving communication).</span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;">Sounded
a bit too touchy-feely for me and I had writing to catch up on.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;">So I skipped the workshop and immersed myself
in downloading photos and writing a blog post.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijOD0KbTjZXtZKBO-fVsh_s-eWook1gRRgfv63S5d42I2ef2FIo13BwcwkwcukqXZqJXz_jsFckxwnDeGaHOp3xXqOEg558nCcI6LRQXegy5nZOlp-xt-qEIbi3jqKN_ODel1Gb5HwBuU3DXIeCqqgP4NE51tCwJzwdmws5cgoHpQVT4eC4BVXr276pAE/s1280/Slide1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijOD0KbTjZXtZKBO-fVsh_s-eWook1gRRgfv63S5d42I2ef2FIo13BwcwkwcukqXZqJXz_jsFckxwnDeGaHOp3xXqOEg558nCcI6LRQXegy5nZOlp-xt-qEIbi3jqKN_ODel1Gb5HwBuU3DXIeCqqgP4NE51tCwJzwdmws5cgoHpQVT4eC4BVXr276pAE/w640-h360/Slide1.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I showed up for group yoga every morning of the SERVAS
meeting. Turns out I was always the only
guy in attendance. That’s me in the blue
shirt, right of center. </span></b>Photo
courtesy of SERVAS.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">There was a picnic in
the park scheduled after the workshop.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">
</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">By the time I emerged from my room, the group had already left for the
picnic.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">The hotel staff said I could
find them near the entrance to the Parque San Martín.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">We had driven through the park the previous
day on the way to and from our tree planting.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">
</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">It was a large park and I figured that finding the group amidst the
Sunday afternoon crowds would be a challenge.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">
</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">But I needed a brisk walk and didn’t have anything better to do.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Sure enough, there were the SERVAS picnickers
near the entrance.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">One of the kind
participants from Uruguay insisted that I help myself to the contents of his
family’s picnic basket.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">I also accepted
a small sample from a bottle of red wine he had brought.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> One of the downsides to my heart condition (atrial
fibrillation) is that I’m not supposed to drink any alcohol - it tends to set
off irregular </span><span style="font-size: 18.6667px;">heartbeat</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> episodes that can go on for several hours and put me
at risk for a stroke. </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">A few sips of this
delicious wine reminded me how much I miss the fruit of the vine.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggBdeYZvK8kSjdvnFe0E2XF6KpAkrHH3lGxA5MaM0I7BHa-6k610L_5Mehs0biPPKksWlt0sNJZet23royS23_FvAG346O8j7bFLs02f4pluqvSZqPqFexcD6qL86iuT0xfdPLI_XJLgAtxzvT-Bd8q8EtUN_dvFwEYksxWqLnPCKAcrgOk7mvFjtAFos/s1280/Slide2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggBdeYZvK8kSjdvnFe0E2XF6KpAkrHH3lGxA5MaM0I7BHa-6k610L_5Mehs0biPPKksWlt0sNJZet23royS23_FvAG346O8j7bFLs02f4pluqvSZqPqFexcD6qL86iuT0xfdPLI_XJLgAtxzvT-Bd8q8EtUN_dvFwEYksxWqLnPCKAcrgOk7mvFjtAFos/w640-h360/Slide2.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The Carlos Alonso Museum is located in a lovely old Mendoza home. </span></b>Photo source: https://www.tripadvisor.com/Attraction_Review-g312781-d14023112-Reviews-Museo_Carlos_Alonso-Mendoza_Province_of_Mendoza_Cuyo.html#/media-atf/14023112/350256138:p/?albumid=-160&type=0&category=-160<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">We walked back to the
hotel, stopping along the way at the small Carlos Alonso Museum located in an
historic home.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Among other works of
modern art on display, there was a group of paintings which spoke to me of the
brutality of the “sport” of bullfighting (abolished in Argentina in 1899) but
still very much a part of the culture of Spain.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Even though Mendoza is
located in a very arid region of western Argentina (in the rain shadow of the
Andes), many of its streets are tree-lined.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">
</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">The city’s greenery has been able to flourish because of the presence of
open trenches which were constructed along the edge of the streets.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">The trenches collect and hold storm water
which infiltrates the adjacent soil nourishing the tree root systems. </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">The landscape outside Mendoza is reminiscent of
southern Arizona but within the city you wouldn’t guess you’re in the middle of
a desert.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBozmDWn8qTd4ZXFekMohKEYvu23reEIeNDQ6PbAKmacRRnquW2oYAT0-u8b_FsokSaOOD8r0FAQKjsY_GYxL4Bfc5NO60eCWwmCzoH7c7Jo5sA3C1G0lpcJXqHX6ihumKSaZY5BQbU-VxB9LSYPUgcIuTe_Qd7Ssu8WdX1DBNg-srPq9Bd0gFQIO4qxo/s960/Slide1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBozmDWn8qTd4ZXFekMohKEYvu23reEIeNDQ6PbAKmacRRnquW2oYAT0-u8b_FsokSaOOD8r0FAQKjsY_GYxL4Bfc5NO60eCWwmCzoH7c7Jo5sA3C1G0lpcJXqHX6ihumKSaZY5BQbU-VxB9LSYPUgcIuTe_Qd7Ssu8WdX1DBNg-srPq9Bd0gFQIO4qxo/w640-h480/Slide1.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">SERVAS picnickers at the ornate entrance gate to the Parque San Martín. </span></b>Photo courtesy of SERVAS.<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">In the evening, it was
time for yet another party.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">This one
featured food and drink from Mexico, Peru, and Uruguay.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">It was very festive with lots of merriment.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Frankly, I didn’t do very well at the SERVAS parties.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Most of all, I found Chilean and Argentine
Spanish very tough to understand in casual conversations.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">My hearing isn’t all that good anyway in
noisy situations so all I could do was smile a lot and pretend I knew what was
going on.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Then there was the drinking
problem.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">It’s hard to be the life of the
party when one is sober and surrounded by fun-loving folks who are feeling
tipsy.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Finally, the South American
dining schedule doesn’t align very well with my mine.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">I’m used to having dinner around 6PM – they don’t
even get to the appetizers until about 10:00!</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">
</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Eating a big meal and heading off immediately to bed causes me digestion
problems.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Maybe that wasn’t a problem
for my friends as they seemed to be partying until 2:00AM or so.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Gawd, have I gotten to be an old fuddy-duddy!</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p><p>
<span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;"><br /></span></p>Will Mahoneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14657949510251910608noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1334639788072532472.post-29920987477344660222023-11-24T18:39:00.000-08:002023-11-24T18:39:10.911-08:00Saturday, 11/11/23: These SERVAS People Know How to Have Fun<p><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;">After breakfast in the hotel, we
boarded buses and headed for the Cerro de la Gloria (Mountain of Glory) to
visit the Monument to the Army of the Andes on the edge of Mendoza.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;">The highest of this imposing group of metal
statues is an allegorical Liberty breaking chains symbolizing the successful
struggle for independence from Spanish rule.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;">
</span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;">The monument also includes a statue of José de San Martín on
horseback.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;">In the austral summer of
1817, San Martín lead an army of 4000 from Mendoza across the same pass which I
had crossed by bus on Thursday.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;">His army
triumphed in battles in what became Chile, and he later successfully took the
independence cause to Peru.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;">He is
revered in Argentina, Chile, and Peru as “El Libertador” (the liberator) for
his major role in freeing South America from Spanish rule.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;">It is tragic that the independent nations of
South America were subsequently led by men who did not embrace the rule of law
and democratic values that took hold in the U.S.A. and Canada.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;">It has taken nearly 200 years to vanquish the
tradition of corrupt strong men who held back development of free societies in
Latin America.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2FE6nB2_AyhsuDRZrao4yUo0izvBNW7iviXrs_ObA6C1-aU6_5yg8ugT1MMsooNjnHu6zyMg3cekKygkYbfDhQtiWoHhxtTRvQVBGiU_GtE4AkENviSww_1Ma5lJIqfWZuuXkFZFUVlwqF-vlXGtCUTIEpCAx4ZO43zuTrxcNctgE0NMJLDMjq3Q9PMw/s1280/Slide1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2FE6nB2_AyhsuDRZrao4yUo0izvBNW7iviXrs_ObA6C1-aU6_5yg8ugT1MMsooNjnHu6zyMg3cekKygkYbfDhQtiWoHhxtTRvQVBGiU_GtE4AkENviSww_1Ma5lJIqfWZuuXkFZFUVlwqF-vlXGtCUTIEpCAx4ZO43zuTrxcNctgE0NMJLDMjq3Q9PMw/w640-h360/Slide1.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;">There was a festive air among the members
of SERVAS:</span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;">Posing for group photos while
holding flags of their nations, singing, and cheering.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;">I was sorry not to have brought a Colorado
state flag with me which I could have held up proudly.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;">Given the sad history of US interference in
Latin American affairs in the past such as CIA involvement in the 1973 military
coup in Chile, I would have been hesitant to hold up a US flag while standing
with a group advocating peace.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhogvoyRukr6Uu1D2A01MkRWJEXo4OsFwrylgE2q88X5hlfJNMi1Jt_0Ede1Md2gODeEumexPvlgZv8qHSMJjijePuTDhnHmG-wN7w6bZ-2Z_q-_UX4e5RWhbftkToi1w51hzY3mgg9Sr2p9XJMx53kt7OevuoPyJCXjFJMThx9zsL3rKiHwqbqgYltOrM/s1280/Slide2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhogvoyRukr6Uu1D2A01MkRWJEXo4OsFwrylgE2q88X5hlfJNMi1Jt_0Ede1Md2gODeEumexPvlgZv8qHSMJjijePuTDhnHmG-wN7w6bZ-2Z_q-_UX4e5RWhbftkToi1w51hzY3mgg9Sr2p9XJMx53kt7OevuoPyJCXjFJMThx9zsL3rKiHwqbqgYltOrM/w640-h360/Slide2.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><b><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: "Calibri",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Planting
trees for peace in a Mendoza park </span></b></div></b><span style="font-size: 18.6667px; text-align: justify;"><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">We left the monument and part way
down the mountain road, the buses pulled into a parking area with a view of the
city where we planted several trees to commemorate the commitment of SERVAS to
world peace.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">We took turns ceremonially
excavating and shoveling dirt on the saplings while local foresters did the
bulk of the work.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">And once again, it was
time for singing and a Sanskrit chat which Servas President Radha taught us.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">And, of course, more photos with flags and
banners.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPihP5_FA9GJE_LU-qQpqZvTo3LQwfIxMjvsjCyddoxS6LZHtLGnL__BK0HN-5JJS7js-UGv3yth52mzioV4DyuU_B0qmIB7NNEISdCZzjsA5uO50dYXX4MsNWgHTzgnZ9aL29W0MgdFi9AwdZ4ceasYlbCenv5ztCDiGeTyVjvYG6G3A_9egwjLkdOOo/s1280/Slide7.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPihP5_FA9GJE_LU-qQpqZvTo3LQwfIxMjvsjCyddoxS6LZHtLGnL__BK0HN-5JJS7js-UGv3yth52mzioV4DyuU_B0qmIB7NNEISdCZzjsA5uO50dYXX4MsNWgHTzgnZ9aL29W0MgdFi9AwdZ4ceasYlbCenv5ztCDiGeTyVjvYG6G3A_9egwjLkdOOo/w640-h360/Slide7.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The wine flowed freely at this Servas
lunch.<o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The buses dropped us back at the
hotel, and we walked a block to the tram station and took a train to the end of
the line for a visit to the Lopez bodega and winery. After a short tour, we were led to the
tasting room where the tempo of fun accelerated with numerous toasts and
clicking of wine glass. Later, we were
fed thick steaks (cheese raviolis for the few of us vegetarians), the wine
continued to flow, and the group got pleasantly rowdy. I was seated next to a 70ish Chilean couple
who live 1000 km south of Santiago. The
husband, Juan, is blind. After lunch,
his wife, Eloise, asked if I would guide Juan into the men’s room. So, I took him by the elbow and helped him
find the toilet, washbasin, and towels.
I think it was the first time I’ve guided a blind person. Juan seems like a warm, gentle soul and I was
pleased to be able to help him. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">After two days with these Servas
folk, it’s obvious that they are quite successful at doing good while having
fun.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">And their positive outlook is infectious.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></p>Will Mahoneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14657949510251910608noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1334639788072532472.post-23549365624474002062023-11-14T12:52:00.000-08:002023-11-14T13:06:11.820-08:00Friday, 11/10/23: You’ve Probably Never Heard of SERVAS, right?<p><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;">The first morning of the SERVAS
meeting in Mendoza, Argentina, I counted about 40 members present.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;">They came from Argentina, Chile, Uruguay,
Peru, and Mexico and most appeared to range in age from 40s to 70s.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;"><br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQjurGCQHY5T3GHW4NEUjLoR-GyRBuBAOuMXaRo55aDaW7TXAOFpz8K6RR4DMi9lyxURMgy7IiwDgIZ2hZEVqBQ4PEG6tDuvM7qavqEJZNA3W7sThJQyAmDDijzCXTjSJtMoatvZr7y6MnJYJD2CMcryg1-Nwi4IfrSqMwH8CTtK_2vdAUlIeUMjulJNs/s1280/Slide1.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQjurGCQHY5T3GHW4NEUjLoR-GyRBuBAOuMXaRo55aDaW7TXAOFpz8K6RR4DMi9lyxURMgy7IiwDgIZ2hZEVqBQ4PEG6tDuvM7qavqEJZNA3W7sThJQyAmDDijzCXTjSJtMoatvZr7y6MnJYJD2CMcryg1-Nwi4IfrSqMwH8CTtK_2vdAUlIeUMjulJNs/w640-h360/Slide1.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">One of the first presentations was
given by the President, Radha Radhakrishna (an Indian-American) that I found
quite helpful in better understanding what the organization is all about.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Other than a picnic in Denver a few months
ago, I’d never been to a SERVAS event nor did I know any SERVAS members before
I joined except my friend Bill in Portland, Oregon.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Radha gave his presentation in English (he
recently started studying Spanish) which was ably translated into Spanish by a
member (Merisa) from Uruguay.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Here’s some
of what I learned.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">SERVAS is one of those groups doing
good stuff for the world that most people have never heard of.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">It was founded 75 years ago with the vision
of promoting world peace and international friendships by getting travelers and
hosts from different countries together through homestays.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">A survey of attendees at the 2022
international meeting of the group in India revealed that the host/traveler
contacts and promotion of peace were considered the most important functions of
the organization.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">The younger attendees
also wanted the group to focus on “care for the planet”.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQvdtXLgNqMhoMj7iRKgzR_QfJRXbBnZEkfjgVt-uNZD0i_Bvnd8bUNFfi8pFLpI5MG5-QBir-4GIIYrRiTk63F2HpUc992YJ49Pw9kPXJ2n4NqnA30hum4ktlrU6dAOaUpeYjXWfsYucOInYgnkRvv_2KoYFNbo2e3sylx5gPlUDIbCkHQ_K6kqnXNbo/s1280/Slide2.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQvdtXLgNqMhoMj7iRKgzR_QfJRXbBnZEkfjgVt-uNZD0i_Bvnd8bUNFfi8pFLpI5MG5-QBir-4GIIYrRiTk63F2HpUc992YJ49Pw9kPXJ2n4NqnA30hum4ktlrU6dAOaUpeYjXWfsYucOInYgnkRvv_2KoYFNbo2e3sylx5gPlUDIbCkHQ_K6kqnXNbo/w640-h360/Slide2.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">With some 15,000 members worldwide, SERVAS
is organized by country with SERVAS International providing support through its
website, help with conferences, and promotion of programs especially for
youth. It’s entirely run by a diverse
group of some 40 volunteers with no one country’s members dominant. International conferences are held every
three years.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Several worthwhile programs within
SERVAS include:<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">- An on-line Spanish language
learning program for adults and kids.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">- Learning how to take better
pictures (certainly a high priority for travelers!)<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">- An eco-camp for youth in Brazil<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">- Youth language exchange program<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">- Walks for peace<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">- Cycling for peace<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">- Peace school in Turkey (on-going
for 16 years)<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">- Art and singing programs<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">- Provision of 3-wheeled bikes for
disabled Africans <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">[Help me out, SERVAS members. What did I forget?]</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">SERVAS is affiliated with the United
Nations including the commissions on the Status of Women and on Sustainable Growth. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOOZWZFfUb0EbYzEvhtrTTsUXyp3Qw1YukXlD1eLXJvhIQvoE-z1ZOXw8oWXEr0a-bI6YCXK2pM4os4-SeN8l2jb_sJc0GBCfek0oKLHT5ay9tnG5wEmntTOUls9riwno7QNxyrvIs2-xm35J7S1JsCZAQeOYf_T1p7T4TyKu6ZCafPhyqz1xlTQoHifY/s1280/Slide3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOOZWZFfUb0EbYzEvhtrTTsUXyp3Qw1YukXlD1eLXJvhIQvoE-z1ZOXw8oWXEr0a-bI6YCXK2pM4os4-SeN8l2jb_sJc0GBCfek0oKLHT5ay9tnG5wEmntTOUls9riwno7QNxyrvIs2-xm35J7S1JsCZAQeOYf_T1p7T4TyKu6ZCafPhyqz1xlTQoHifY/w640-h360/Slide3.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span><p></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">In the afternoon, there was a
presentation by Francisco Luna of Mexico City on how SERVAS can better promote
peace. While trying to listen intently
to his Spanish, my mind drifted off into wondering why SERVAS doesn’t have more
name recognition and members. Well, as I
pointed out earlier, most people have probably never heard of it. I also suppose that most people are not
interested in hosting foreign travelers (usually a 2-day stay) or lodging with
local families when they visit another country.
A Hilton is an easier option for staying within one’s comfort zone. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">By the way, to find out more check out the SERVAS website: <a href="https://servas.org/">https://servas.org/</a> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">
</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1Pc2EJlLaT2In81cAxe14InC8xm1h2fquKlctVJSU41ik2Dv-uuUg9bwGui5yqjeQ6dSHGCng3zOX9XSvSXQlQNALSEEgjiO4nANufkud2mYJtTjj6nlXZMzD1rjvtt6n9oL7p38m0BLyxHIIF-q2clRCPDuGzNNNb1PpQbpTROR3dMeYFI8cmgq9g68/s1280/Slide4.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1Pc2EJlLaT2In81cAxe14InC8xm1h2fquKlctVJSU41ik2Dv-uuUg9bwGui5yqjeQ6dSHGCng3zOX9XSvSXQlQNALSEEgjiO4nANufkud2mYJtTjj6nlXZMzD1rjvtt6n9oL7p38m0BLyxHIIF-q2clRCPDuGzNNNb1PpQbpTROR3dMeYFI8cmgq9g68/w640-h360/Slide4.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>Will Mahoneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14657949510251910608noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1334639788072532472.post-6439708966159030902023-11-13T15:27:00.000-08:002023-11-13T15:27:02.307-08:00Thursday, 11/9/23: Crossing the Andes with Great Photo Ops<p><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;">My bus for Mendoza, Argentina didn’t
leave until 10:30 AM, so I had plenty of time for a leisurely breakfast,
packing up my stuff, and the three- minute walk to the terminal where I easily
found the Andesmar Bus ticket window.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;">Since
I’d bought my ticket and reserved a seat on-line a few weeks earlier, all I had
to do was show my passport for the international trip and get instructions on
where to find the bus.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;">When it pulled
into the berth, I was pleased that it was several steps above the somewhat
shabby Greyhounds full of seedy passengers that I’d ridden in the USA 30 to 40
years ago.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;">Instead, it was a thoroughly
modern two-decker job – the type which typically carries tour groups in the
U.S.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;">I had paid about $12 extra for a
first-class single window/aisle seat on the lower level with plenty of legroom
and which abutted a large, </span><u style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;">clean</u><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;"> window.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;">
</span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;">I recall that the one-way ticket had cost about $55 – a bit pricy for
Chile given the distance but you can bet there were extra taxes for the border
crossing.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;">The bus was expected to cover the
365-kilometer trip in 7½ hours.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;">Why so
slow?</span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;">Well, first there is the 10,500-foot
pass at the border with numerous curves and switchbacks especially on the
Chilean side.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;">There was also the delay
for customs and immigration when arriving in Argentina.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;">Finally, it’s the main highway through the
Andes between Argentina and Chile so it’s crowded with lots of vehicles
including big semis.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;"><br /></span></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeoSGrbOMH72K0OyArsd6SUYomCbLWdf4QEWDMAV8H7eOYtBm9WjhajDvG4bMksWJEKB7uVbTaHrSo1lEUGr5QLs-0TkPItgssVcfd31wP1kQszosugX0IubozOyMtzh3EPjCob0xJq5o4Gi4pmfJgCL1DI653ICRmXrVE0lu62y0axXn71GJ4c6RmqwM/s1280/Slide1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeoSGrbOMH72K0OyArsd6SUYomCbLWdf4QEWDMAV8H7eOYtBm9WjhajDvG4bMksWJEKB7uVbTaHrSo1lEUGr5QLs-0TkPItgssVcfd31wP1kQszosugX0IubozOyMtzh3EPjCob0xJq5o4Gi4pmfJgCL1DI653ICRmXrVE0lu62y0axXn71GJ4c6RmqwM/w640-h360/Slide1.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Time to board my bus at the Santiago
South Terminal.<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Are you wondering why I left Chile
for Argentina the day after I got to Santiago? After booking my flights to Chile, I had contacted Javier Heusserd, one
of the main organizers of SERVAS-Chile, about the possibility of home stays. He
wrote back telling me there just happened to be a 4-day Latin American Servas meeting
in Mendoza which would start two days after my arrival in Santiago. Sounded
like a great opportunity to meet Latin SERVAS members and learn more about the
organization. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizjZ03VRolmuhQxZ96VowK5rXjfbZXttIL9qFAqMJK-OoUB5lniuVeXCNPiMPPBWpy9G1YH9cNMsSi5MrB7L2aa-dY_tD-UxNadjKfGZXTCr7tTWf1R1Chd1XK0OEj4LrafzWtOrAJbBs4-_Zd1Os_gSsRH-9cLqKn0hej4mt7fRdZZFO6PHVezf_S8D0/s1280/Slide2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizjZ03VRolmuhQxZ96VowK5rXjfbZXttIL9qFAqMJK-OoUB5lniuVeXCNPiMPPBWpy9G1YH9cNMsSi5MrB7L2aa-dY_tD-UxNadjKfGZXTCr7tTWf1R1Chd1XK0OEj4LrafzWtOrAJbBs4-_Zd1Os_gSsRH-9cLqKn0hej4mt7fRdZZFO6PHVezf_S8D0/w640-h360/Slide2.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Route over the Andes from Santiago,
Chile to Mendoza, Argentina<o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">We pulled out of the terminal at 10:35 and headed north on a divided highway. After leaving Santiago behind, my east-facing
window provided views of dry-appearing foothills covered with brown grasses and
scattered green trees and shrubs. The
highway was gradually ascending while passing small farms with fields that
appeared recently planted (remember, it’s springtime here). There were occasional breaks in the hills
providing views of the distant Andes which were still partially covered with
snow from the past winter. The road cuts
revealed an unconsolidated grey mixture of angular rocks, pebbles, and
soil. They gave the impression of
volcanic ash flow deposits (wish I had a geologic map with me). The weather was mild but mostly cloudy which
detracted from my photos. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3cciPamWlystoedWJKkZXYbCGfIXg31YoSqHf_drXG9gVdgBIbIIDDUgLSTvZ2bAZBd_wQDScse9n6r0MF7nzYrDpc3uPhVOwonUixBCRBpT8wiIhQDnMHqE5qBnvsHSPfHi0IdYVxamF4pEO-v1WBLbEPh55wYzgejyFs_sNl3ANRVYvTgBNgRiEWNk/s1280/Slide4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3cciPamWlystoedWJKkZXYbCGfIXg31YoSqHf_drXG9gVdgBIbIIDDUgLSTvZ2bAZBd_wQDScse9n6r0MF7nzYrDpc3uPhVOwonUixBCRBpT8wiIhQDnMHqE5qBnvsHSPfHi0IdYVxamF4pEO-v1WBLbEPh55wYzgejyFs_sNl3ANRVYvTgBNgRiEWNk/w640-h360/Slide4.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Recently planted, irrigated fields
north of Santiago<o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuglYDkEuTxjx-1HNG_qpgm3-ShPpBIuNcL5R55LhFlf0ywu7GgZTwQPJWBEy6VMF0sSJI3D9mLzXR3LmSu2_IkXJ2LLlLhT1oj6as7pbNxJBW7yaVfEc4sYLoHGhG3U_gmYPJbv1_oaWKpT8zzNgQOISDavxnY7sNMfdaa3eihJ3BUc5lDLXOUFNgSL4/s1280/Slide3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuglYDkEuTxjx-1HNG_qpgm3-ShPpBIuNcL5R55LhFlf0ywu7GgZTwQPJWBEy6VMF0sSJI3D9mLzXR3LmSu2_IkXJ2LLlLhT1oj6as7pbNxJBW7yaVfEc4sYLoHGhG3U_gmYPJbv1_oaWKpT8zzNgQOISDavxnY7sNMfdaa3eihJ3BUc5lDLXOUFNgSL4/w640-h360/Slide3.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Easterly view through brown hills
toward the Andes</span></b></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Not quite an hour after leaving the
terminal, we passed through the roughly one-kilometer long Chacabuco Tunnel
just before reaching the small city of Los Andes. There we merged into east-bound highway 60
and started the 65 km climb to the pass. Below us was the Rio Blanco which was
currently anything but “blanco”, a raging torrent of spring run-off carrying a
significant load of brown sediment. The
highway passed a hydroelectric dam and the town of Rio Blanco where a sign
indicated it was another 217 km to Mendoza.
<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">
<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikNbplfp-euyDg7Gc-tCTiTA3GSIEV-1dSXawtDZ7o4lRLYxyOHAT8VHIal03Y4qzH4oflKXXnZDyqR2lXholIPj1rfnBKlnXTlzaLiwi4NOJXpu0EIexMXC4c8zE6z1GUKhKcnaWSEmxq5ACjUIrzuZfCrebg_8aQmwjBCEGX_S-IqSTyg833tXUuB_Y/s1280/Slide5.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikNbplfp-euyDg7Gc-tCTiTA3GSIEV-1dSXawtDZ7o4lRLYxyOHAT8VHIal03Y4qzH4oflKXXnZDyqR2lXholIPj1rfnBKlnXTlzaLiwi4NOJXpu0EIexMXC4c8zE6z1GUKhKcnaWSEmxq5ACjUIrzuZfCrebg_8aQmwjBCEGX_S-IqSTyg833tXUuB_Y/w640-h360/Slide5.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Rio Blanco at near flood stage and laden
with sediment from spring runoff<o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">The highway steepened and my window
seat provided nice views of tall, ribbon-like waterfalls across the valley to
the south.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">At about 12:45, we reached
the first of “Los Caracoles” (the Snails), some 40 switchbacks which the bus
driver carefully negotiated to reach the pass.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">
</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">We drove by Portillo, one of the best-known Southern Hemisphere ski
resorts.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">With little winter snow
remaining on the slopes, it wasn’t very impressive.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">The highway went through numerous snowsheds
which carry avalanches over the highway so as to keep the road open during the
winter and cut down on fatalities.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Near
the top of the pass, what I took for another snowshed was actually a tunnel under
the continental divide and the border.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">
</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">It was hard to tell the difference when I could only see to the side and
not ahead.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p></div><div><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg34tIbtWPgO6yISPGDx6pW0tN-RLUzAbhU-187kSD1ayFepraw5if5U7Zj-AAcg04Z0kbwfii1ofYpPOz9ygrToTidLlRxmWYVWylflifOXEEDaRQimQ3HT94BbCfSYKIo8BH3V31k5udNC9PqU8VmmUExkAingzzBmfxV_0zNk3_DGyAII7hyphenhyphenLkxH_bU/s1280/Slide6.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg34tIbtWPgO6yISPGDx6pW0tN-RLUzAbhU-187kSD1ayFepraw5if5U7Zj-AAcg04Z0kbwfii1ofYpPOz9ygrToTidLlRxmWYVWylflifOXEEDaRQimQ3HT94BbCfSYKIo8BH3V31k5udNC9PqU8VmmUExkAingzzBmfxV_0zNk3_DGyAII7hyphenhyphenLkxH_bU/w640-h360/Slide6.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Impressive waterfalls cascading down
nearly vertical cliffs.</span></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></b></p></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKDoRcg5U_gYMES-Y-uzbFnhirudGbH3kDO-QzRUgEsC-8IKM6zOMMQxGi3tbA8QffWlkg0WByoI2pcBldkVaHfkeZ-MietfHC2ayqqIVEf8SoPkHp76qBA37DEVi81wwp1oI89RoDiD3zphFk99PIpTA6s4XNwZ1OJCCu_b46tsV1JAC-ldHBFBqfqrM/s1280/Slide7.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKDoRcg5U_gYMES-Y-uzbFnhirudGbH3kDO-QzRUgEsC-8IKM6zOMMQxGi3tbA8QffWlkg0WByoI2pcBldkVaHfkeZ-MietfHC2ayqqIVEf8SoPkHp76qBA37DEVi81wwp1oI89RoDiD3zphFk99PIpTA6s4XNwZ1OJCCu_b46tsV1JAC-ldHBFBqfqrM/w640-h360/Slide7.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Los Caracoles” (the Snails) on the
western (Chilean) side of the border</span></b></div><div><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></b></p></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfDbKEroRvm_a8zJ_tRwC7zh7KCIBF3CN94V1zbjBMjESv60SYkfncS7KI2nvoID8LxTHGXKLB6EUxxHqPOL64wc0xUolqhi_-vSN3CC_D_OmR9DfdDu95YrrzDJi6eXDGYn8hEk9cCUexKz0jqWe2Ku2jC9iffx47Kv7dllV2GTduWMXMQCS71hyphenhyphenPMn4/s1280/Slide8.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfDbKEroRvm_a8zJ_tRwC7zh7KCIBF3CN94V1zbjBMjESv60SYkfncS7KI2nvoID8LxTHGXKLB6EUxxHqPOL64wc0xUolqhi_-vSN3CC_D_OmR9DfdDu95YrrzDJi6eXDGYn8hEk9cCUexKz0jqWe2Ku2jC9iffx47Kv7dllV2GTduWMXMQCS71hyphenhyphenPMn4/w640-h360/Slide8.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Chile’s Portillo Ski Area just west
of the continental divide</span></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></b></p></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">After the pass and the border, the
gradient wasn’t as steep so there were few sharp curves. The border post was 5 miles or so into
Argentina. Very long lines of cars
waiting to clear the customs and immigration provided evidence of heavy travel
between the two countries. However, we
entered a special lane for buses and parked outside the large customs and
immigration hanger. Our driver directed
us passengers to follow him back into the hanger to a group of special windows
for bus passengers. It took about 5
minutes for my turn and maybe a minute and a couple questions before the
Argentine agent handed me back my passport.
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje1XvWXW-OQbQlfcmJSXx6umzxN0tVG8mK0jw9TFJTUvBwS2ufTn2B7soDsP2JxWX13WX-d_n8gFtchP6I81NxwOvE3HFgK3xVTdISKjj5Ck9d6S2Nx2hsZnO6I2Zush9pfHk8DGHR_Q-B8Joxg5KfNYiB82JU2GMw8NTYrt1nripi2hR85bWWo03dSCM/s1280/Slide9.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje1XvWXW-OQbQlfcmJSXx6umzxN0tVG8mK0jw9TFJTUvBwS2ufTn2B7soDsP2JxWX13WX-d_n8gFtchP6I81NxwOvE3HFgK3xVTdISKjj5Ck9d6S2Nx2hsZnO6I2Zush9pfHk8DGHR_Q-B8Joxg5KfNYiB82JU2GMw8NTYrt1nripi2hR85bWWo03dSCM/w640-h360/Slide9.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The highest peak on the right is in
Argentina and may be about 18,000 feet high.</span></b></div><div>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO7XeGmHqJZwkhjekj2RsD8L8GbPo7-Fw4RyMzvnioRpjWM78B4Lti5a0IjZAa8vtavGayBcdQRwoTZAPhxgkvhZejYMIpHN2YLhRjwgT35LmNylI60aYTPFIpMuL8w0GwTBWenB1GsP7pUAWualfueCbU1nAWll8bI6AGC_TaSunULlDK724B0jC6wlU/s1280/Slide10.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO7XeGmHqJZwkhjekj2RsD8L8GbPo7-Fw4RyMzvnioRpjWM78B4Lti5a0IjZAa8vtavGayBcdQRwoTZAPhxgkvhZejYMIpHN2YLhRjwgT35LmNylI60aYTPFIpMuL8w0GwTBWenB1GsP7pUAWualfueCbU1nAWll8bI6AGC_TaSunULlDK724B0jC6wlU/w640-h360/Slide10.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Just east of the border, the highway
makes a long gradual descent toward Mendoza.</span></b></div><div>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The driver had told me we wouldn’t be
stopping for lunch and he had advised us to go right back to the bus after we
cleared Argentine immigration. There was
a fast-food place next to where the bus was parked and I figured I best seize
the opportunity to fill up the ol’ gut.
There was no sign of the driver, so I figured I had a few minutes. A sign at the little restaurant read
“sandwich vegetariano”. Could they get
me a sandwich quick? No hay
problema. The big egg, cheese, and
tomato sandwich on a flat bun came off the hot grill in less than 5 minutes. After quickly paying in Chilean pesos, I
scurried out the door but there was no rush.
We didn’t leave for another hour.
Either it was the driver’s and ticket taker’s siesta time or there were
international bureaucratic formalities to attend to. I didn’t really care – It was windy up there
at 9,000 feet and a bit chilly, but the sun had come out. I’d already shifted my consciousness into the
Latin American flow. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy_JK3tWJXIJdOK2QE6RTJ9yqo34Od4RZvlAA1bjwdlv0q0MFRugtf4ZQ4NRAXasAc_p-7xI5kcSL6noEgZIZVlQSorh-QZy2hQRM5KP3D86zHuUv1vkseey9kvQprcMK7x4UQm2omyZuIvHhAsUCj73fLSkyeCNqXL9LtZiQgqIqcjl5RiZ4_UiPvRtk/s1280/Slide11.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy_JK3tWJXIJdOK2QE6RTJ9yqo34Od4RZvlAA1bjwdlv0q0MFRugtf4ZQ4NRAXasAc_p-7xI5kcSL6noEgZIZVlQSorh-QZy2hQRM5KP3D86zHuUv1vkseey9kvQprcMK7x4UQm2omyZuIvHhAsUCj73fLSkyeCNqXL9LtZiQgqIqcjl5RiZ4_UiPvRtk/w640-h360/Slide11.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">My sandwich from a carry-out joint at
the border post was cheap, good, and filling.<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">At 3:00 PM, the bus was back on the
two-lane highway for its long descent to Mendoza.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">We continued following sections of the
Transandine Railway, which was abandoned in 1984.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Much of the track remains as well as several
historic steel bridges.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">At Uspallata,
the highway made a nearly 180-degree turn while following the valley of the
Mendoza River.</span></p></div><div><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBc0-Y0rvhwX30_HuMPnE-qbazOPiV0QG5VKLFzM5IaRtpoAtRa_lI4uzdP7BPuBGgg26yxt-d0ar-YN4JncDQLmtlRit3ULHRGXmIxmiS0_eKZlJX8GDlU4BCCyJiRT4GDgagVPcrlHAqmeD5-LiqQOZhT9BHH9RAdgFoiEnAyRMwQza_IqCeKNnGCVc/s1280/Slide12.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBc0-Y0rvhwX30_HuMPnE-qbazOPiV0QG5VKLFzM5IaRtpoAtRa_lI4uzdP7BPuBGgg26yxt-d0ar-YN4JncDQLmtlRit3ULHRGXmIxmiS0_eKZlJX8GDlU4BCCyJiRT4GDgagVPcrlHAqmeD5-LiqQOZhT9BHH9RAdgFoiEnAyRMwQza_IqCeKNnGCVc/w640-h360/Slide12.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">An historic steel truss railway
bridge crossing the Rio Mendoza.<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">During our long wait at the border, I
discovered that another passenger was also going to the Servas meeting. Once we got to the Mendoza bus terminal, she
found us a taxi for the 15-minute ride to our hotel. Some of the meeting attendees had already
arrived. They were a friendly bunch, and
I was fairly sure I would like them. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">
<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br /></p>Will Mahoneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14657949510251910608noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1334639788072532472.post-78168004197312608282023-11-12T08:19:00.000-08:002023-11-13T16:38:50.918-08:00Wednesday, 11/08/23: Success in Negotiating Travel Hassles<p><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;">My flight arrived about 15 minutes
early as we had had a “cola viento” (tail wind) for most of the night.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;">Getting through immigration was a breeze and
customs showed no interest in my luggage.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">First on my agenda:</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Score some Chilean pesos.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">I didn’t want to chance trying to use dollars
for transportation to my hotel:</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">either
they wouldn’t take them or I’d get screwed on the exchange rate.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> An airport official directed me to a Banko </span><span style="font-size: 18.6667px;">Santander</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> “cajero automatico” (ATM machine) at the international terminal
entrance. </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">I tried a couple times but it
didn’t spit out the money I requested – it wasn’t a problem with my card as the
person waiting in line behind me had the same problem.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> I found another </span><span style="font-size: 18.6667px;">Santander</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> ATM not far away –
same problem. Then, I found a </span><span style="font-size: 18.6667px;">Santander</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> Bank at the edge of the terminal (they seemed to be the only ATM game in
town). </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">“¿Qué pasa con los ATM?” I
inquired.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Oh, those in the international
terminal weren’t working today.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">I could
go to the domestic terminal where they were working.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">The clerk pointed me in the general
direction. </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">So, off I went, schlepping my small
but heavy backpack, computer satchel, and little suitcase with wobbly
wheels.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">The spring morning air was
heating up fast and I was pretty well toasted after a day of travel with little
sleep.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">I also need water.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">The domestic terminal is about ¼ mile
walk.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">I was directed to an ATM on the
second floor and presto, it worked and out came three 10,000 peso notes.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">A minor problem which I realized later – my
foggy brain put the decimal point in the wrong spot in my calculations.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">I had wanted about $300 in pesos but only got
less than $30 worth.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> That would cover me
until I arrived in Argentina the next day but the flat $9.00 </span><span style="font-size: 18.6667px;">Santander</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> ATM fee
made it a bad deal. </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">The good news was
that Charles Schwab covers all ATM charges on my debit card and levies no
international transaction fees (thanks, Chuck!)</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">
</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">It’s a card that every
international traveler should have.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">I
also have a Fidelity debit card – they recently implemented the same deal.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">A little store next to the ATM sold
bottled water to my great relief.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There
was an information desk close by and I learned that, yes, there were city buses
to the Santiago South bus terminal which was close to my hotel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A 0.1 mile walk got me to the airport bus
terminal where I got a ticket for about $2.25, a big savings over a private
taxi ride.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The bus ride left me with the
impression of Santiago as just another big, modern Latin American city albeit
with the towering peaks of the Andes on the eastern skyline.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As the bus pulled into the terminal, I
spotted the Hotel Ibis where I had reserved a room for the night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was right across the street from the
terminal and I gave myself a pat on the back for having chosen it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was the same terminal from which my bus
to Mendoza, Argentina would be leaving tomorrow morning. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO9rap-2i0S3CdQ7DxVFtxSpygCZGeJMrzQdMPYhzhHy-TbS_iEUWlJ4PquL1cEtIKvsX7aOJlnbnUUnjJKFmjVuzvWsDLBB0FiLoooBokNLZBedD5Yt0glofG3GAvBn2EWt1TJou6DdOJyuClL44r6SkR7DquKAkQB5ZJjrAuxuzKRRViNGmHeLO4CZ8/s1280/Slide1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO9rap-2i0S3CdQ7DxVFtxSpygCZGeJMrzQdMPYhzhHy-TbS_iEUWlJ4PquL1cEtIKvsX7aOJlnbnUUnjJKFmjVuzvWsDLBB0FiLoooBokNLZBedD5Yt0glofG3GAvBn2EWt1TJou6DdOJyuClL44r6SkR7DquKAkQB5ZJjrAuxuzKRRViNGmHeLO4CZ8/w640-h360/Slide1.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Crowded expressway between the airport and downtown Santiago.<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">It was only 10:00AM – too early to
check in – so I was told I could use a hotel computer in the lobby to check
emails and catch up on the New York Times.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">
</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">The computer brought back memories of my month of volunteer work in Cuernavaca,
Mexico in 1998 where I first used one of these awkward Spanish keyboards.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">One has to reach further over some extra keys
with the right pinkie to get to the enter and shift keys.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Around 1:00, the desk clerk told me I
could check in.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">The room was only $64
including breakfast so I wondered if it would be shabby.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">I was pleasantly surprised at the small but
clean and modern room with bath when I arrived on the hotel’s 6</span><sup>th</sup><span style="font-size: 14pt;">
floor.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">And the window faced east towards
the mountains.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpGOi5WrTVX7Ze7pNLnzWt1htYmD0tArR6e4DhI5rDrQoaI1dr-FD5-yuxYVV1Od21sSWyyU_kwRQXX5WalW97Eu2rpMN5g0-TYtDQ8RcvYoylHghOi_9vPnXcofuZsBwsq9lhU28RnN33XMLSc_OrVL14Al17ff4sQeA48EOyFYlj8b-1Jn7YGK6FJEk/s1280/Slide2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpGOi5WrTVX7Ze7pNLnzWt1htYmD0tArR6e4DhI5rDrQoaI1dr-FD5-yuxYVV1Od21sSWyyU_kwRQXX5WalW97Eu2rpMN5g0-TYtDQ8RcvYoylHghOi_9vPnXcofuZsBwsq9lhU28RnN33XMLSc_OrVL14Al17ff4sQeA48EOyFYlj8b-1Jn7YGK6FJEk/w640-h360/Slide2.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">View of Santiago from the Hotel Ibis<o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Now I had a problem.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">It’s something we don’t like to talk about in
polite company so I will approach the subject delicately.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">My inability to relax during my long journey
in very dry cabins, not enough liquids, the bustling Denver and Miami terminals,
and two trips through airport security had been stressful.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Thus, after arriving in my room when I
received a call from nature, my response was inadequate.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">And I had neglected to bring pills from home
to rectify the situation as I had not experienced this problem in at least ten
years given my mostly vegan diet.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">I looked up the necessary word in my mini
Spanish-English dictionary which I brought because the crooks at Verizon wanted
to charge me $10/day to get internet though my phone.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">What I needed was a “laxante”.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">The hotel clerk directed me to a “farmacia”
right around the corner.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">The pharmacist told
me I needed Ciruelax Forte.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">It would take
8 to 12 hours to work but she squelched my plea for something faster-acting.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Pharmacists in most countries don’t just fill
prescriptions.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">They dispense many of the
drugs we buy over the counter in the US as well a those unavailable without a doctor’s
prescription back home.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfKGFMiYFfdGsLctw5P_0votpUQMVZ4_uhZ_tGXdiESRqmDmaWhxoC4UZZEH2Ddm5Ge0hUsD-feqSvmMX1AWMtV6DjYz7wrT2X7fW96psOtmEIMxvN1pSNj0vYOMpTmvkY-rMCx1QiCcMo8dXluwZYdWth17wrMv0ESVehHAw11GKMoABl4Dj40wLgo4g/s1280/Slide3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfKGFMiYFfdGsLctw5P_0votpUQMVZ4_uhZ_tGXdiESRqmDmaWhxoC4UZZEH2Ddm5Ge0hUsD-feqSvmMX1AWMtV6DjYz7wrT2X7fW96psOtmEIMxvN1pSNj0vYOMpTmvkY-rMCx1QiCcMo8dXluwZYdWth17wrMv0ESVehHAw11GKMoABl4Dj40wLgo4g/w640-h360/Slide3.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Dusk in Santiago: My room at the Ibis faced east toward the
Andes.<o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">So, I shelled out about $5 for a box
of 24 and hoped that maybe the suffering would abate sooner. I immediately popped one and went over to the
bus terminal where I bought a couple of delicious and cheap spinach and
mushroom empanadas at a bakery. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">I fell into my bed from exhaustion
around 8:00, my fatigue quickly overcoming my discomfort “down there”.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Around 2:30 AM, 10 hours after taking the
magic pill, nature called again and this time my answer was entirely
successful.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Life was now looking much
better!</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><br /><p></p>Will Mahoneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14657949510251910608noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1334639788072532472.post-81529041903660412852023-11-11T06:00:00.001-08:002023-11-11T06:00:00.133-08:00Wednesday, 11/8/23: Approaching Santiago after a Long Uncomfortable Night<p><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;">6:00 AM local time, flying just off the Pacific coast near
the Peru-Chile border</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Oh, what misery is overnight travel in tourist class.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For several hours, I’ve tried stretching out
my legs under the seat in front of me, while wearing my sleep mask with my
inflatable U-shaped travel pillow around my neck.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t succeed in approaching anything that
could qualify as normal sleep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">About 15 minutes ago as the TV screen in front of me
indicated we were passing Lima, Peru, I looked from my aisle seat to my right
at the young Latina mother who had moved from the middle seat and was lying
with her back propped up against the window and her legs extended in my
direction over the window and middle seats.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Her three-year-old daughter (who had occupied the window seat) was lying
on her back against her mother, her head just below and to the left of her
mother’s chin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The little girl’s mouth
was open and her little legs, clad in grey tights with horizontal red stripes
extended in my direction. Both were lost in dreamland.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a prize-winning photo op but the cabin
was too dark (lighted only by pale blue ceiling lights) for my camera to
capture it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I tried with my cellphone
but the pic was nothing but blackish fuzz.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Obviously, it would have been highly rude to take it with a flash waking
the sleeping Madonna and Child.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So all I
can do is describe it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I write this,
the little girl is squirming and her mother has moved around, trying to adjust
both of them to something vaguely resembling comfort.<u> <o:p></o:p></u></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><u><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p><span style="text-decoration: none;"> </span></o:p></span></u></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">7:00 AM, off the coast of northern Chile<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">About an hour until we land in Santiago.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Ah ha!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lights in the
cabin have come on and the crew is starting to distribute breakfast snacks. Mother and child still appear deep in
slumber.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now’s my chance to discreetly
steal their souls with my little Cannon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The angle is not as good as it was an hour ago but I still found them
damn cute.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjytVN6fpgj9-0PcJ75jghdCrI8GfjrvcOzQl92G9Skk5pI_IWxvji0bqP77CIsiZ0rUGOVCm4ECZTlG7-EXwawaSlOjqIhLd98_lt1bG0dFK_DHl4xdwON2t4vzCsasJq0V8lwPF1ibdzl3XfaXx8rb4Myp3xwrCBjEUc7do16PDeJrVO2kWVpxi8oFfU/s1280/Slide1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjytVN6fpgj9-0PcJ75jghdCrI8GfjrvcOzQl92G9Skk5pI_IWxvji0bqP77CIsiZ0rUGOVCm4ECZTlG7-EXwawaSlOjqIhLd98_lt1bG0dFK_DHl4xdwON2t4vzCsasJq0V8lwPF1ibdzl3XfaXx8rb4Myp3xwrCBjEUc7do16PDeJrVO2kWVpxi8oFfU/w640-h360/Slide1.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlWVWMU1t_IZLj-RxHWXY9rtzt4Lmqh9Qix42Xo5sajzZw0200FrC_Ytv4nbeJHKSMzpmuxlRq0k9Wy7fQoTdN_zhghtB4bhd2ZWcEcz8VysoYhbtd-iaL1MuEaWjevlak0GI1aLq1E0jabN01LxxRkblYrz-zLGMqyXO2STMfKZtJE5RqPCuko_jdzkQ/s1280/Slide3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlWVWMU1t_IZLj-RxHWXY9rtzt4Lmqh9Qix42Xo5sajzZw0200FrC_Ytv4nbeJHKSMzpmuxlRq0k9Wy7fQoTdN_zhghtB4bhd2ZWcEcz8VysoYhbtd-iaL1MuEaWjevlak0GI1aLq1E0jabN01LxxRkblYrz-zLGMqyXO2STMfKZtJE5RqPCuko_jdzkQ/w640-h360/Slide3.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><b><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: "Calibri",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">About
45 minutes north of Santiago. That’s one
dry landscape down there!</span></b></div></b><span style="font-size: 18.6667px; line-height: 107%;"><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></span><p></p>Will Mahoneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14657949510251910608noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1334639788072532472.post-18747469462996222402023-11-10T06:42:00.002-08:002023-11-10T15:36:06.896-08:00Tuesday, 11/7/23: My Plans for Wandering in Chile<p><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;">Denver International Airport, 9:00 AM, United Club
lounge</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">So what am I doing flying by myself
to Chile at age 77 with a heart condition, hearing challenges, and a declining short-term memory? Well,
if my 85-year-old friend, Andre, can fly all over the world (and his heart is
in worse shape </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">than mine), I don’t have any excuses.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">10:20 AM MST, enroute to Miami<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I’ve spent many an hour planning for this trip to Chile and
putting it together. Along the way, I’ve
given considerable thought as to what I want out of this adventure. Here are a few ideas:</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I’ve been fascinated with this very long, skinny country ever
since I became a geography geek around age 9.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>So never having been to southern South America, I decided that it was
time to get my ass in gear and make my 5<sup>th</sup> trip south of the equator.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Like a 35-year-old woman who is hell-bent on
motherhood, my biological clock has been ticking away and Dog-only-knows when I
will hit traveler’s menopause.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Travelling can be tough and I shouldn’t dis those who chose
easier paths such as cruise ships and organized tours.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However, such travel experiences are generally
not for me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For one thing, I’m a bit shy
and standoffish.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know it’s a character
flaw but I’m just not all that interested in hanging with other tourists.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If I’m going to be around other people, I’d
prefer the locals.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thus, I needed to do
this trip on my own.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And my partner,
Judy, is no longer a fan of long-distance travel by plane given the hassles of
dealing with Type I diabetes. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I initially thought of taking a ferry down the southern coast
of Chile through the dramatic fjords and past the iconic Torres del Paine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, there is a ferry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s a four-day trip from Puerto Montt at the
southern end of central Chile to Puerto Natales in southern Patagonia.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Here’s the problem:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the only way to do the trip at a reasonable
cost (about $500) is to spend every night in a chair in the ferry’s lounge
area.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As a single traveler, a private
stateroom would set me back about $1800.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Furthermore, a little reading on the ferry website made it apparent that
the ferry would be mostly full of foreign tourists, not average Chileans
getting from Point A to B. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Finally, it’s
November and the southern hemisphere springtime in these parts can be rainy and
foggy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I might not see much and standing
out on the deck in a cold rain peering into grey skies at monochromatic
landscapes wouldn’t be worth the price of admission.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I gave some thought to the arid north of Chile but it would
mean renting a car to see much of the good stuff which I find wasteful, isolating,
and expensive (fuel in Chile is $5.00-6.00/gallon) when travelling solo.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could have flown from Santiago (the capital
and destination of direct flights from the US) to a northern city like
Antofagasta but I would still have had to rent a car once I got there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Taking a very long bus ride for 1000+ miles
north from Santiago?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No thanks – I’d
rather have been water-boarded at the Abu Gharib prison!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">That left central Chile which centers on Santiago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Here I could see some terrific landscapes –
the central agricultural valley extending several hundred miles south from
Santiago, endless sandy and rocky beaches along the Pacific coast, and of
course, the towering Andes which abruptly ascend into the clouds just east of
Santiago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By the way, more than 1/3 of
Chile’s 15,000,000 people live in Santiago and the environs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s a modern, prosperous city but not high
on my bucket list.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On the other hand,
Valparaiso, located on the coast about 100 miles west of Santiago is a smaller
version of San Francisco, an historic port city with little funicular cars
which climb halfway to the stars.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s
neighbor, Viña del Mar, immediately to the northeast also gets high marks for
its lovely parks and gardens. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Regarding
the central valley, a modern passenger train runs a couple hundred miles south
through it from Santiago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Those who know
me well (or have read my southern Africa blog) realize that I’m a hard-core
rail buff.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thus, I decided there was
plenty to do in central Chile to keep me entertained for the month I was
allotting for the trip.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I could
always go back to the north or south assuming old age infirmities or the Grim
Reaper don’t curtail future wanderings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">So yes, there are scores of intriguing landscapes to consume
in central Chile but what could make the trip more meaningful than just
traveling around, seeing sights, doing some hikes, and taking photos?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had a bit too much of that last year in
Cuba.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The answer – Chilean people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I noted earlier that I’m shy and standoffish
with strangers, but I value my friendships including those I’ve made over the
years during my foreign travels.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But how
would I meet interesting Chileans who would want to waste their time on an
eccentric Gringo?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">There was one more significant motivation for travels to the
far south which figured large in my trip to Cuba last year – Spanish!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve been studying the fine tongue of
Cervantes for more years than I care to admit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I should be fluent by now and fault myself for still struggling to
acquire a lengthy vocabulary and flawless grammar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My excuses are my age (gawd, do I wish I
could have learned Spanish and French starting in kindergarten) and lack of
opportunities to practice (two hours a week on Skype with my excellent and
jovial teacher in Guatemala just aren’t enough).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">How to make Chilean friends and improve my Spanish?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The latter is easy – find a Spanish school
and immerse myself in a week of study.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>There are a number of schools in bustling Santiago but I wanted a more
relaxed experience.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I chose a small
school (highly recommended by former students) in a town (Pichilemu) on the
Pacific coast about 4 hours by bus southwest of Santiago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I corresponded with the head of the school by
email telling her that I wanted to learn Chilean slang and the notoriously
challenging pronunciation and grammar variations of Chilean Spanish.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her website mentioned the availability of
yoga classes (another of my passions) which also appealed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Pichilemu is known as a surfers’ paradise but
I figured November would be too chilly (pun intended) to attract hordes of wave
riders that flock there starting around Christmas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Finding Chilean friends would be more of a challenge,
BUT….<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have this friend, Bill, whom I
unfortunately don’t see much of anymore since he moved to Portland,
Oregon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was married for a number of
years to my close friend Sky (formerly Susie) from grad school at the
University of Montana more than 50 (yikes) years ago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bill shares my enthusiasm for hiking and is a
devoted student of French and Spanish.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He told me about this organization he belonged to called Servas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This international group promotes world peace
through interpersonal connections and homestays (usually two days) for member
travelers who connect up on the Servas website with members who welcome
domestic or foreign visitors.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They have
some 8000 members, a large number of whom are in Europe but Asia and the
Americas are also well represented.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>There are also a few hundred members in Africa and Australia/Pacific as
well. Bill has stayed with Servas members in France, Mexico, and Argentina
while pursuing his language studies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He
had very positive words for the group a number of years ago, and being
intrigued, I parked the name of the organization in the back of my brain for
future reference.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">A phone call with Bill a couple years ago reminded me of
Servas, so I went on their website and submitted my application.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are a couple of hoops to jump through
to join.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Axe murders need not
apply.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You need a couple of friends or
colleagues to directly submit a letter of recommendation and then you are
interviewed by a long-time Servas member.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>In my case, the interviewer was Lani, who lives about ten miles west of
me in Denver and has met numerous Servas members over the years as both as a
traveler and a host.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I learned that
Servas is entirely run by volunteers and membership only costs $33/year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnqSlm6DFM6crGuqmFhbrLGSt1CFhDtdcVL0RQ3A294-2Awmrc0ov46RfIsGlYKWfD55petLxG6uWOiYSiXMaLMgNVrqn_br4vm-0NL23lGybBMQptsLUqKPOH3UY6PlRcJkjF-9cTlGZ6uoJkLBGB_0RSO_pbkeahmX7qBifRsXpgxQ6F9YFkf3A6fuM/s5184/IMG_4390.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5184" data-original-width="3888" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnqSlm6DFM6crGuqmFhbrLGSt1CFhDtdcVL0RQ3A294-2Awmrc0ov46RfIsGlYKWfD55petLxG6uWOiYSiXMaLMgNVrqn_br4vm-0NL23lGybBMQptsLUqKPOH3UY6PlRcJkjF-9cTlGZ6uoJkLBGB_0RSO_pbkeahmX7qBifRsXpgxQ6F9YFkf3A6fuM/w480-h640/IMG_4390.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Route of
my American Airlines flight to Santiago, Chile.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>This Google Map is a bit misleading.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We crossed the Isthmus of Panama, then followed the west coast of
Columbia, Ecuador, and Peru.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was
night so I couldn’t see outside but that’s what the TV screen on the seat back
told me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">7:00 PM EST, Miami International Airport departures lounge<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I was accepted as a member of Servas last year and a few
months ago, Lani had a potluck picnic for local Servas members in her
backyard.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was an intriguing group of
about 25 world travelers – most in their 60s and 70s although I’ve noticed that
the Chilean membership includes a sizeable number in their 20s and 30s.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Using mostly frequent flier miles, I booked tickets from
Denver to Santiago and back via Miami and Fort Lauderdale.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After tentatively setting up a week of
Spanish classes in Pichilemu, I emailed a distinguished-looking Servas member
around my age who lives near Santiago (each member posts a written profile with
optional photo on the website).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Turns
out he is the national coordinator for Servas in Chile.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He wrote back inviting me to stay with him
and his wife for a couple days and also sent information about a 4-day Servas
get-together for members in southern South America which is taking place in
Mendoza, Argentina and starts two days after my scheduled arrival in Santiago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I figured out that Mendoza is an 8-hour ride
over the Andes in a comfortable bus from Santiago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Despite some initial frustrating website
difficulties, I booked and paid for a round-trip bus ticket to Mendoza and
registered for the event.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m hopeful
that it will be a great opportunity to meet and get to know Servas members in
Chile and Argentina (and maybe from Uruguay, Paraguay, and Bolivia, as well).<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I contacted seven other members in central Chile but only
three responded, two of whom invited me to visit and another who was busy with
a family move to Argentina.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of the two I
will visit, one is a psychologist who invited me to stay for three days at his
second home near a national park located between Valparaiso and Santiago; the
other is an artist who lives near the center of Valparaiso.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have no idea why the other four didn’t
respond.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Did my email from an
unrecognized address go into their junk mail folder?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or maybe they don’t like North Americans or
are sick of visitors?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If they did get my
email (and/or message through the Sevas website), you’d think they’d at least
write back claiming to have scheduled abdominal surgery or dental extractions
during the week of my proposed visit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">My overnight (yuck), 8-hour flight to Santiago leaves Miami
in two and a half hours.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Assuming I have
wifi in my hotel room in Santiago tomorrow night, I’ll try to post this on my
website.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Hasta pronto, amigos,<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Will</span></p><br /><p></p>Will Mahoneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14657949510251910608noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1334639788072532472.post-61804713913702004612023-01-23T21:18:00.000-08:002023-01-23T21:18:01.571-08:00Rewilding the Southern Great Plains <p><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;">I haven’t posted
anything on my blogs since finishing up my Cuba stories last month.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;">I need to get back to my Southern Africa
stories but that’s not going to happen until late next month.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">In the meantime, an
article came into my inbox this afternoon that I like to share with my
readers. It provides a nice summary of
the work of the Southern Plains Land Trust (SPLT) in southeastern Colorado to “rewild”
thousands of acres of the Great Plains.
The authors, Nicole Rosmarino (executive director of SPLT) and Jay
Tutchton (SPLT’s preserve manager) are very savvy folks who in less than 25 years
have made a huge contribution to the environment of southeastern Colorado and to
the wildlife that lives there. By the
way, that’s them in the fence removal photo below.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I’m usually rather
skeptical of large nationwide non-profit organizations. Sure, many do great work but seem to be
top-heavy with administrative staff.
Also, you send them 50 bucks and then they constantly bombard you with
begging letters to send them more. Not
so with SPLT. I’ve been impressed with
how much this relatively small organization gets done on a shoestring. Most of the money they raise goes to managing
the land they own and to buy more. They
send me updates every couple months as to what they’re up to but no mass mail
begging letters. </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">So, after reading the
following article, if you’d like to find out more and maybe get involved, here
is the link to SPLT’s website: <a href="https://southernplains.org/">https://southernplains.org</a> <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgijVaTlwa5k49dEBdx4OXmpD5nuXqvjP4746NSB0iDJHpZOMj3FEWJ4602LKh6KZjsqWXFjy151oatt7uMWDkFweb36C2n9YsZxsYJU1mzKpYDKs9nh0Vai1K6FBL6pdmfY7ZZ3i28MsxqNzJzdFfnEfLLQk3sQjKPY1XyvinkfGfRwCwlYhk5wmSZ/s1280/rewilding%20the%20southern%20Great%20Plains%20(photo%201).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgijVaTlwa5k49dEBdx4OXmpD5nuXqvjP4746NSB0iDJHpZOMj3FEWJ4602LKh6KZjsqWXFjy151oatt7uMWDkFweb36C2n9YsZxsYJU1mzKpYDKs9nh0Vai1K6FBL6pdmfY7ZZ3i28MsxqNzJzdFfnEfLLQk3sQjKPY1XyvinkfGfRwCwlYhk5wmSZ/w640-h360/rewilding%20the%20southern%20Great%20Plains%20(photo%201).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: left;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: left;">Nearly 25 years ago, the Southern Plains Land Trust (SPLT)
sprouted, based on a simple idea: let’s buy as much land as we can, just for
the wild ones. SPLT’s vision is to bring back the diversity and abundance of
wildlife of the American Serengeti by rewilding the shortgrass prairie of the
southern Great Plains.</span></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 22.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">What does “rewilding” mean to us? Let’s start with the word
itself. The prefix “re” is simple enough, implying a return to a previous
state. The root “wild” is more challenging. America took a stab at it in the
Wilderness Act of 1964, which sought to preserve areas “in their natural
condition,” … “where the earth and its community of life are untrammeled by
man.” This law was passed to “secure for present and future generations the
benefits of wilderness.”</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 22.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">However, even in the 1960s, the era of atmospheric nuclear
testing, no spot on Earth was entirely untrammeled by humanity. In today’s age
of human-caused global warming, where our toxins and plastic detritus have
found their way to every corner of the Earth, the idea of a pristine “wild” is
perhaps far-fetched. Indeed, in the larger sense, ever since our ancestors
climbed down out of the trees on an African savannah, humanity has modified
every community of life we have encountered.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 22.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Yet, the underlying notion that we should strive to preserve
nature and let natural processes endure, without a human hand on the tiller,
remains compelling. We, and every other creature on Earth, need the wild. It
literally made all of us. The concept of rewilding exists because now, half a
century along our journey to preserve the wild, we have become painfully aware
that saving only what remains “untrammeled” will not do the trick. We need to
return some of what we have taken.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 22.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">For us at SPLT the process begins with buying the land. We
don’t try to make a living off the land; rather we let the land live. The area
where we work was once the Dust Bowl, the place where human domination of the
land broke its community of life, including people. When forced, many of the
region’s people retreated. It is the perfect setting for rewilding, as what was
tried in the past – ignoring nature’s bounds – objectively failed.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5xAqO3pi3yZ8XwqC3XJfFlX3JLjllcP6l9RYGmQUXlQzUfLvVmLqv1Nt5GkaUsDOAaV69s8Ohl1gtgzs11PPWzab-ctOB7VbE5BoGCbaPVFz_zCMVdTSKXQOSWdDaC2KfSBj4Kfj4IpUhd3yhbN2fUIp-CRICT6HksE7S0-7X-sFsA1RXcXAwBlaD/s1280/Slide2.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5xAqO3pi3yZ8XwqC3XJfFlX3JLjllcP6l9RYGmQUXlQzUfLvVmLqv1Nt5GkaUsDOAaV69s8Ohl1gtgzs11PPWzab-ctOB7VbE5BoGCbaPVFz_zCMVdTSKXQOSWdDaC2KfSBj4Kfj4IpUhd3yhbN2fUIp-CRICT6HksE7S0-7X-sFsA1RXcXAwBlaD/w640-h360/Slide2.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><b>Heartland Ranch Nature Preserve
(photo © Jennifer Gooden)</b><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">On the prairie, it all starts with
the native grasses. We let them grow. We do not plow. That enables the
buffalograss and blue grama to reach their long roots down and hold the prairie
in place as well as store carbon. Next, we remove as many fences as possible.
This is a land of ebb and flow, where wildlife migrate as conditions dictate.
It is a landscape of curved lines, swales, meandering streams, and rounded
rocky mesas. This land never knew a straight line until humans put one on it.
Rectangular boxes of barbed wire challenge the creatures that evolved to roam
it; just ask a pronghorn running 45 miles per hour into a fence made of steel.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCerDbJ5azVNxBxoQ2-4n4B00KRRf2MVRWj-i5723WmgIIzyjyfrc-FosFxXJ0rPPydpASKr00V0P4n7jL0F52aY5xS8PJ_nf3R7pXNTKs6Z5Y7-Bw0c-NdBzg-YI8hTyDzzhEtsIvoRd97lG2IZ4RMXqAQlAtSQKFJGqc3T9M1wllMYnaGMdiNbx3/s1280/Slide3.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCerDbJ5azVNxBxoQ2-4n4B00KRRf2MVRWj-i5723WmgIIzyjyfrc-FosFxXJ0rPPydpASKr00V0P4n7jL0F52aY5xS8PJ_nf3R7pXNTKs6Z5Y7-Bw0c-NdBzg-YI8hTyDzzhEtsIvoRd97lG2IZ4RMXqAQlAtSQKFJGqc3T9M1wllMYnaGMdiNbx3/w640-h360/Slide3.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><b>Fence removal work by SPLT staff
(photo © Sean Boggs for Environmental Defense Fund)</b><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">We restore the riparian areas. Water,
or the lack of it, controls this land. We let it flow. We let it nourish. We
try, with simple structures made of native rocks, to heal a century of erosion.
We plant trees, believing that someday, the beaver will return and build dams
for their community of life, keeping the precious water on the landscape a
little longer.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">As to the non-human residents of this
land, we let them live in peace. We do not hunt the pronghorn, deer, or elk. We
welcome their natural predators to do that. Neither predators nor prey are our
competitors. They can work out the fractions between themselves on their own,
without our meddling. We do not manage “game” species, and we let the little
things alone. We do not pick and choose which members of the community we will
tolerate.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Rewilding to SPLT means true refuge
for nature. That’s crucial for prairie dogs, a keystone species that humanity
tried mightily to eliminate. Prairie dogs are welcome to build their towns
where they wish, and the golden eagles, ferruginous hawks, swift fox, coyotes,
badgers, burrowing owls, mountain plovers, and dozens of other creatures who
benefit from prairie dogs thank us for our tolerance.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">We also bring back the missing pieces
of the community where we can. We have reintroduced bison, another keystone
species, to our preserves. We watch with joy as they return the land to their
management: creating wallows where wildflowers will spring up next year and, as
they rub off their winter coats, battering juniper trees that invaded the
grasslands in their absence.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq15b2BV8llgPA7lsTDblwM_ywIQhGOAi762cfe9vY-Oqzndej1PeEPUBY5Lrc0jRza7l7eOSoGDNZzbmWGQRxDvDOjQrKJ1NXrDCV5uO0lNai9AxhcTS1plvYCoze1aYAkkJFWhLfv3LRpqxfrlmssJvCqF62LLINDK-gVW2vGz3LGXlNF7kdA1FP/s1280/Slide4.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq15b2BV8llgPA7lsTDblwM_ywIQhGOAi762cfe9vY-Oqzndej1PeEPUBY5Lrc0jRza7l7eOSoGDNZzbmWGQRxDvDOjQrKJ1NXrDCV5uO0lNai9AxhcTS1plvYCoze1aYAkkJFWhLfv3LRpqxfrlmssJvCqF62LLINDK-gVW2vGz3LGXlNF7kdA1FP/w640-h360/Slide4.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><b>Bison at Heartland Ranch Nature
Preserve (photo © Sean Boggs, Environmental Defense Fund)</b><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Finally, and this is the part that
the drafters of the Wilderness Act foresaw, as caretakers of SPLT’s preserves
we have been rewilding ourselves. When we moved to preserve headquarters, we
began to watch sunrises and sunsets instead of television. We noticed stars rise
and fall with the seasons and noted the phases of the moon. The return of the
migratory birds, and not the calendar, tells us when winter is breaking. We
absorbed all the things that civilization had obscured, and it brought us
happiness. When you live in the city you learn to ignore sounds; they are
intrusions, annoyances, largely devoid of any meaning.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">On the prairie, however, every sound
has meaning. A meadowlark sings from a yucca stalk at daybreak, indicating this
is his territory, and you watch to see if his song is successful in attracting
a mate. A mockingbird imitates him and a dozen other species and plays the same
game. A quail flushes or a prairie dog barks, warning of an intruder. Coyotes
sing at dusk, and you hear their neighboring pack answer, each indicating its
strength and territory.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDDKbIN8Ust-nYwUCcprX64s5lTEtFPiI34ttauh-aVBxS8zyQMcstyR8kSPhwWYgati42VSo1RvkVGzfycztoiV5ObAWT8KiaXbwXhDGSXXnop6zqwpQkbm0WaT8LAtQVjKuBHIiEWm4onK8qoCJmaZnELaH62bSA7cTthZLZymeffCxmnH6nAwzI/s1280/Slide5.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDDKbIN8Ust-nYwUCcprX64s5lTEtFPiI34ttauh-aVBxS8zyQMcstyR8kSPhwWYgati42VSo1RvkVGzfycztoiV5ObAWT8KiaXbwXhDGSXXnop6zqwpQkbm0WaT8LAtQVjKuBHIiEWm4onK8qoCJmaZnELaH62bSA7cTthZLZymeffCxmnH6nAwzI/w640-h360/Slide5.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><b>Sunset over Heartland Ranch Nature
Preserve (photo © Michael Menefee)</b><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><b><br /></b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">These rhythms rub off, and you return
to what all humans once knew before we separated ourselves from nature. You are
better off for it. That is the true secret of rewilding. It is returning nature
to itself, and returning us to our connection with it.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizV0vp_qz0LXut9zkUX_e8uKv57owvyXUiuFm3ofNHl3c7vHZBChjlT4MUOkdXbykxAYIWz7Zzfa4rZ1ZhvEsGP80rt5rjt1lCKsMnMdTMJ0JiTw2WGq5pI8Uvus2e4JzVwf1qQZNDdAi0ncRBiJOLuEjZ91qKLQO-C3MQyKeqSgcG4RksYylmFNLg/s1280/Slide6.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizV0vp_qz0LXut9zkUX_e8uKv57owvyXUiuFm3ofNHl3c7vHZBChjlT4MUOkdXbykxAYIWz7Zzfa4rZ1ZhvEsGP80rt5rjt1lCKsMnMdTMJ0JiTw2WGq5pI8Uvus2e4JzVwf1qQZNDdAi0ncRBiJOLuEjZ91qKLQO-C3MQyKeqSgcG4RksYylmFNLg/w640-h360/Slide6.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><div style="text-align: center;"><b style="font-size: 12pt;">Location
of Heartland Ranch, the largest SPLT reserve</b></div></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">This article was originally published
on the website “Rewilding Successes” on January 11, 2023. <a href="https://rewilding.ecologicalcitizen.net/">https://rewilding.ecologicalcitizen.net/</a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">You are welcome to republish this
story through the Creative Commons license CC BY-NC-SA 4.0. Where republishing
conditions differ for images, this is noted in individual captions. For more
information, see this page: </span> <span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://rewilding.ecologicalcitizen.net/republishing-our-content">https://rewilding.ecologicalcitizen.net/republishing-our-content</a><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span><p></p>Will Mahoneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14657949510251910608noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1334639788072532472.post-33845259185971238182022-12-30T13:03:00.001-08:002022-12-30T13:53:29.628-08:00Thursday, 10 November 2022: Back to Colorado with Minimal Hassle<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5hrykHFGWT5GqpkPyrrXbHROZRnsp-kOgTqDfACO8c0c54ddXLk2h4DrnxTQGOrBpuJTTBihFtUfUUar7Dl-FgEoZD6DiyvCzzDJ9vcyAUEMSeQM9oaQKbI9DaUzh38jVkQ_CWLfKyU0s611aW4Y-MGrgMx3i9jHR3WWT28BWAxo9WwTQ3Y8gN2tV/s960/Se%C3%B1or%20Weeleee%202.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5hrykHFGWT5GqpkPyrrXbHROZRnsp-kOgTqDfACO8c0c54ddXLk2h4DrnxTQGOrBpuJTTBihFtUfUUar7Dl-FgEoZD6DiyvCzzDJ9vcyAUEMSeQM9oaQKbI9DaUzh38jVkQ_CWLfKyU0s611aW4Y-MGrgMx3i9jHR3WWT28BWAxo9WwTQ3Y8gN2tV/w300-h400/Se%C3%B1or%20Weeleee%202.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">My ol’ friend, John Dunham, from my undergrad days at Ohio
State U., is very skilled with Photoshop.
He took the photo from my first Cuba blog post, replaced the ball cap
with a Che Guevara beret, and lit my cigar.
All that’s missing are an AK-47, cartridge belt, and the commitment to
lay my ass on the line for some revolutionary cause.<o:p></o:p></span></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I’m up at 4:45 AM. The taxi will be here in an hour as I want to
be at the airport three hours before my flight.
Maybe a bit of overkill but I’m not taking any chances. I take a quick shower, get dressed, and take
my stuff out to the lounge at 5:40.
There is no wifi this morning so I can’t get an update on the status of
my flights or Hurricane Nicole. As
always, I’m nervous about early morning taxis showing up and getting me to my
flights on time. </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Javier, the host at <b><i>Balcones</i></b>,
is sitting with me in the lounge. He
says I should stay here rather than go down to the street to wait for the
taxi. At 5:45, the taxi has not
arrived. When it doesn’t arrive by 5:50,
I’m ready to start biting my nails. At
5:52, Javier gets a call. The taxi is
downstairs at the door waiting. Javier
helps me get my stuff down to the door.
Wow! It’s a green, 4-door, 1953
Chevy in nice shape.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">As we head off on our
half-hour-plus trip to the airport, the cabbie is very talkative. I notice that he speaks very clear Spanish
for a Cuban and I understand almost everything he says. We talk about the usual – how U.S. sanctions
make life hard for Cubans and haven’t succeeded in bringing down the government
in more than 60 years. I’m impressed at
how intelligent and knowledgeable this guy is, especially in regard to U.S.
politics. Traffic is light and our
progress is as good as can be expected considering we have to stop at
enumerable unsynchronized traffic lights.
I notice that my <b><i>taxista</i></b> drives the old Chevy very
carefully shifting gears smoothly.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Near the end of the
ride, I learn that my driver’s name is David (pronounced “DAA veed” in Spanish)
and is 55. I comment favorably about his
extensive knowledge of politics and so forth.
“You must be well-educated, right?”
Yes, he is. Get this – he got a
degree in aeronautical engineering in Russia and speaks Spanish, Italian, and
Russian. There are no jobs for
aeronautical engineers so he drives a cab to support his family. Once again, I’m reminded of the
dysfunctionality of the Cuban government and economy and the ridiculous injustice
of highly-educated people driving taxis to earn a decent income.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVFthWuUmEE6PKiBM_UQMWKKMuzVX_RIErGP75uksZNUiIRges6kiLBrLcy3briIMgAijFjSBkr7lZz2OGQrYGJZBXfi_9IY6nK8xt9mvJvI6WgmGsiC7YRhlNAVHmovZgVkQW3wNKQh9WnZF7E1eYBKRcDFLSBLEejLXdVZSkYKl07R5fN1JAgCXl/s1280/Slide1.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVFthWuUmEE6PKiBM_UQMWKKMuzVX_RIErGP75uksZNUiIRges6kiLBrLcy3briIMgAijFjSBkr7lZz2OGQrYGJZBXfi_9IY6nK8xt9mvJvI6WgmGsiC7YRhlNAVHmovZgVkQW3wNKQh9WnZF7E1eYBKRcDFLSBLEejLXdVZSkYKl07R5fN1JAgCXl/w640-h360/Slide1.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">After our arrival at
José Martí International Airport, I get a photo of David standing proudly next
to his Chevrolet. There is a large group
of people already standing in front of the departure door. David assures me that it’s probably a charter
flight group. So, me and my stuff walk
up to the door and I ask an official-looking guy where the line is for
Southwest. David was right – there is no
line and he tells me to go on in. </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">When I get to the
Southwest check-in, there is a board showing the status of departures. The 9:20 AM flight to Fort Lauderdale is
listed as ON TIME. WHEW! There are only a couple people ahead of me in
line. I had expected a mob scene. Check-in is easy. When I get to immigration, I can’t find the
Cuban visa that’s supposed to be with my passport (I later find it in a plastic
back with a photocopy of my passport). <b><i>No
hay problema </i></b>– the agent has my information in her computer. She takes my photo to assure it matches the
one they took of me on my arrival 19 days ago. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK8bJZ_a6W-q70_2DlLlrdEcG6QYVSxsMUlSk97t9v5SD0WB-1voCTVGaSWRvlE58mim_b179P-fFRpdE8VNqOd_XlNIIQoZF30L8QeGF4qZQkMf3siE66XQRr3-TtHjt4qnK2fBmqSN2H_8enh5cMfcdx7Oqj1MOxuNFbzAB4fsAEbdY1-vcHO3t6/s1280/Slide2.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK8bJZ_a6W-q70_2DlLlrdEcG6QYVSxsMUlSk97t9v5SD0WB-1voCTVGaSWRvlE58mim_b179P-fFRpdE8VNqOd_XlNIIQoZF30L8QeGF4qZQkMf3siE66XQRr3-TtHjt4qnK2fBmqSN2H_8enh5cMfcdx7Oqj1MOxuNFbzAB4fsAEbdY1-vcHO3t6/w640-h360/Slide2.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Getting through
security is no problem either, and I hang in the departure lounge while reading
my book, <b><i>El Insaciable Hombre Araña</i></b> (<b><i>The Insatiable Spiderman</i></b>). I’m still wondering if the plane coming in
from Fort Lauderdale will be delayed by the hurricane. At about 8:30, a Southwest jet pulls up to
the terminal. This has to be my plane as
there are no earlier Southwest arrivals listed on the “arrivals” board. Yes, this is my plane and we load early. I get a good window seat right in front of
the wing and facing away from the sun in the southeastern sky. The plane leaves right on time. There are puffy clouds but no rain. I shoot a bunch of photos while waving <b><i>adios</i></b>
to Havana and Cuba.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge51fZ-4Bsr4IFYnlHUKm21L_Ck0Gp6xYR64caqh7HTFUBckREHDXxU6MlbN53oO59WtuFY_3PGucVMqf8Tg-041DyDJLPwsrFCMZWdShI0hMM1GeKokrwsvDPXGa8kjX4r_FHsq0YDj3mI8G2hqoFd9_lOhcLBQba-yyuQotVwRPjwc_3C4o333DY/s1280/Slide3.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge51fZ-4Bsr4IFYnlHUKm21L_Ck0Gp6xYR64caqh7HTFUBckREHDXxU6MlbN53oO59WtuFY_3PGucVMqf8Tg-041DyDJLPwsrFCMZWdShI0hMM1GeKokrwsvDPXGa8kjX4r_FHsq0YDj3mI8G2hqoFd9_lOhcLBQba-yyuQotVwRPjwc_3C4o333DY/w640-h360/Slide3.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3U7EI0nwNBRDEmwALm_PbMwGQpk9Z0VJ6NDB-DBz-SQq6Py76SR75nmoeRHenPv7CFb7L0VLV6cFUDnD5KWMDzpgU1FJiqEAQIlz-YdWco5NfQrWkpyV_jNw03eBlW8xlRC02IHxEnrDq9RT-2_djS4ztSdLmh8DNLxj97Rw_D9EGiB5MRRpEsM3g/s1280/Slide4.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3U7EI0nwNBRDEmwALm_PbMwGQpk9Z0VJ6NDB-DBz-SQq6Py76SR75nmoeRHenPv7CFb7L0VLV6cFUDnD5KWMDzpgU1FJiqEAQIlz-YdWco5NfQrWkpyV_jNw03eBlW8xlRC02IHxEnrDq9RT-2_djS4ztSdLmh8DNLxj97Rw_D9EGiB5MRRpEsM3g/w640-h360/Slide4.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj304Vp1CPduy-UpVkPzAzLdheATLRGYfIsabt4cZkqVElhlu4qU2eCQJRbKhxt9U-sPorDxR78sPM6rX3mY8xg3UB3o66fAwFcqZzdfe91W6VS6HC9rBygNvJivu54NEp3k6_kDW6JXsag2ta58-9QTq4rGYfV4Qx-6k8b-ytO38sQZU7PL_7Pj9mz/s1280/Slide5.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj304Vp1CPduy-UpVkPzAzLdheATLRGYfIsabt4cZkqVElhlu4qU2eCQJRbKhxt9U-sPorDxR78sPM6rX3mY8xg3UB3o66fAwFcqZzdfe91W6VS6HC9rBygNvJivu54NEp3k6_kDW6JXsag2ta58-9QTq4rGYfV4Qx-6k8b-ytO38sQZU7PL_7Pj9mz/w640-h360/Slide5.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh6Pp2EPjxq2IkDcAjMkK88p_I-8JyqsZjP7qDJoCM2IyipxDv4x6ufdiiUgOJZ3tUxfuGIphW4JrFqxKn7KKIi0A7Yg5TkJe_wNFAGQ6q-2wsYFNnAfpj5r7KtGDJxq7GBesSe-5m_CG1zLXy_-GveswTO9UzXMJ10UWFneTHnZ7E6RuX4p9Grk2d/s1280/Slide6.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh6Pp2EPjxq2IkDcAjMkK88p_I-8JyqsZjP7qDJoCM2IyipxDv4x6ufdiiUgOJZ3tUxfuGIphW4JrFqxKn7KKIi0A7Yg5TkJe_wNFAGQ6q-2wsYFNnAfpj5r7KtGDJxq7GBesSe-5m_CG1zLXy_-GveswTO9UzXMJ10UWFneTHnZ7E6RuX4p9Grk2d/w640-h360/Slide6.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj18G7DFG6oMWYXnu6IlRL4DXy4moB0QYzESMbEn-_F0Zq55qfTTjJwBA-hne3brk0cMe4YWlkJI6C3H6fzcnadFId41p5llH5BBYlk411mh5X_aZTIjg-VV9RbKeLAJej-YfNUxGAsoFvTdPyKEpFhGa7QAkGRpLLj5jG24UjfRuknULfiURQQH1MM/s1280/Slide7.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj18G7DFG6oMWYXnu6IlRL4DXy4moB0QYzESMbEn-_F0Zq55qfTTjJwBA-hne3brk0cMe4YWlkJI6C3H6fzcnadFId41p5llH5BBYlk411mh5X_aZTIjg-VV9RbKeLAJej-YfNUxGAsoFvTdPyKEpFhGa7QAkGRpLLj5jG24UjfRuknULfiURQQH1MM/w640-h360/Slide7.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">We arrive in Fort
Lauderdale a few minutes early.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">There
are thick clouds to the north but Nicole has already passed through central
Florida and will have no effect on flights in and out of Fort Lauderdale.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">When I get to U.S. Customs and Immigration,
the agent asks the purpose of my trip to Cuba.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">
</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“Support for the Cuban people,” I reply confidently parroting what my
friends, Maggie and Marc had advised me to say.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">
</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Then he asks if I’m bringing back any alcohol or tobacco products.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">They don’t seem to be checking bags, so I say
“no”, not mentioning the three cigars wrapped up in a plastic baggie and
stuffed in a shoe in my backpack.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">That’s
it – I’m through with officialdom, off to check my bag on United, and then on
to the United Club where I show them the free entry pass I received after
signing up for a new United credit card recently.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">My United flight to Denver doesn’t leave for
another three hours.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I had planned it
this way to make sure I wouldn’t miss the flight if there were delays in
leaving Havana.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The club has a small
buffet and I pile my plate high with lettuce and other raw veggies not having
had a real salad for nearly three weeks.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The United flight is
uneventful and my bag arrives at the Denver carrousel in plenty of time to
catch my Denver Sky Ride bus to the Park and Ride three miles from my
house. Judy picks me up there and I get
home for a well-earned meal and sleep after a very long day. I have returned with lots of stories to
share. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">© Will
Mahoney 2022<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">
</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">All rights
reserved. No part of this blog post nor
any associated photo can be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or
transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical or
photocopying, recording, or otherwise without prior written permission of the
author and photographer.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span> </span></p></div><p></p><p><br /></p><br /> <p></p>Will Mahoneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14657949510251910608noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1334639788072532472.post-68747503187099174542022-12-29T14:31:00.000-08:002022-12-29T14:31:08.557-08:00Faces of Cuba<p><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;">“What was your
favorite thing about Cuba?” friends have been asking me.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;">Without much thought, I reply:</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;">“The beautiful Vegas Grande waterfalls in
the Topes de Collantes, north of Trinidad.”</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;">
</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;">But that experience lasted for less than ½ hour while I was there at the
falls.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;">Upon more reflection, I think I
really enjoyed the Cuban people I met.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;">
</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;">And that’s saying a lot coming from a misanthrope like me.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;">I like my friends but otherwise, I’m a bit
standoffish. </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;">There are a number of
adjectives I could use to describe the Cubans I met:</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;">friendly without being pushy, helpful when I
needed help, relaxed but not lazy, honest and unthreatening, innovative in
dealing with scarcities (like the lack of available spare parts for their
cars).</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;">Admittedly, I’m not including the
touts and hustlers in tourist areas who were a pain in the ass.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;">And there were definitely a few jerks and incompetent
people I ran into.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;">But overall, I’d give
the Cuban people high marks.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Unfortunately, the Cuban
people have been getting screwed for hundreds of years.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">First, it was the wealthy Spanish colonizers who
seemed to care little for the welfare of either the common people or the
slaves.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Then it was the United States
that helped Cuba gain its independence from Spain more than 120 years ago but
has been meddling in their affairs ever since.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">
</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Next, it was a series political rulers, some democratically elected and
some who came to power through military coups but nearly all of whom were inept
and/or corrupt.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">And finally, for more
than sixty years, the communist revolutionaries who admittedly made progress in
literacy, education, health care, and corruption have held back the Cuban
people from enjoying a decent standard of living.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Cubans are nice people who are smart and
industrious.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Goddamnit, they deserve
better!</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">By the way, the great
racial diversity I encountered in Cuba reminded me of what I saw in the
Brazilian state of Bahia twelve years ago.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">
</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">And like Brazil, I don’t believe that Cuba is a racially-blind society
of equal opportunity.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Otherwise, why
were most of the business and professional people I encountered relatively
light-skinned while most of the people doing menial labor were darker-skinned
or black?</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">It would be interesting to
delve deeper into this.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Officially, the
Cuban government supports racial equality.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">
</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">But, in practice?</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 16px;">Following are some of the "people pictures" I took in Cuba in addition to those which have already appeared in previous stories.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 16px;"><br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1WFZRDjxQ_3ImN0-M-L51db5qAjKIiL008MV7p2Mvvj6tympBdnSWA5UGgcmHmeIhVv3X_WUagyfwRlDSXs9SfEJ4bFCZazPEWU-gsUB6Fl_1wQjWKWLlX2kqdURDqeggSZOaOdIGNq5Srbr-21Z5l3jQVekegvxtcaltLwAuo3nnRiD7VzE6FFTP/s1280/Slide1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1WFZRDjxQ_3ImN0-M-L51db5qAjKIiL008MV7p2Mvvj6tympBdnSWA5UGgcmHmeIhVv3X_WUagyfwRlDSXs9SfEJ4bFCZazPEWU-gsUB6Fl_1wQjWKWLlX2kqdURDqeggSZOaOdIGNq5Srbr-21Z5l3jQVekegvxtcaltLwAuo3nnRiD7VzE6FFTP/w640-h360/Slide1.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja8Fzc-TiDjuR7FILaZZnkKyyvqumN5VuSatfUuCK_nJn1AM0gP6ij_7560AbKCFoc0c_1IHYalm56Gr33LIjKfjoiL4pdC009vMGHLhoIddRlfIeepN1dzf15pmztwVE37lKxQzMyK-kouM6gnMF3rzoJrPkldLGTfaaN0LRqljwHV2aoIOOTOXoZ/s1280/Slide2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja8Fzc-TiDjuR7FILaZZnkKyyvqumN5VuSatfUuCK_nJn1AM0gP6ij_7560AbKCFoc0c_1IHYalm56Gr33LIjKfjoiL4pdC009vMGHLhoIddRlfIeepN1dzf15pmztwVE37lKxQzMyK-kouM6gnMF3rzoJrPkldLGTfaaN0LRqljwHV2aoIOOTOXoZ/w640-h360/Slide2.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS4mnp8_zQKR9ob_dAmuL17O-phpWoxpLwVNRRVpUvOD0D3oQ_TIlR7WpwzM0QaiN3jfap1BcUE20vdT9fB-2ZlZ9cw9XdFcqXqyFd1G8PMi_hm4dYh8lsyDnjb-u5L6szwoEqX0MKPfl8NtxV5hKy0pAqlENk3nk_wtqFScnSXDRPhzstnH1xiUqS/s1280/Slide4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS4mnp8_zQKR9ob_dAmuL17O-phpWoxpLwVNRRVpUvOD0D3oQ_TIlR7WpwzM0QaiN3jfap1BcUE20vdT9fB-2ZlZ9cw9XdFcqXqyFd1G8PMi_hm4dYh8lsyDnjb-u5L6szwoEqX0MKPfl8NtxV5hKy0pAqlENk3nk_wtqFScnSXDRPhzstnH1xiUqS/w640-h360/Slide4.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTFQcHaHiw8QtQReUB179h61EFKN-vX4rRsOwiw1vZU8vtIafG2NSxqblt67xMUJoSO4nnNiBIa_NM6OY6mXJMgso7d2qU-SjOVoGKmQZWIKGRlgpynwHewlmh2VIouk3v_Cc5MAlJX9IDb5QpsMIMN8gsf1hVtsYppPzP3pP2wGzXuptMrG-9IB1J/s1280/Slide3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTFQcHaHiw8QtQReUB179h61EFKN-vX4rRsOwiw1vZU8vtIafG2NSxqblt67xMUJoSO4nnNiBIa_NM6OY6mXJMgso7d2qU-SjOVoGKmQZWIKGRlgpynwHewlmh2VIouk3v_Cc5MAlJX9IDb5QpsMIMN8gsf1hVtsYppPzP3pP2wGzXuptMrG-9IB1J/w640-h360/Slide3.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimTl1EnNZds3rQx30FFpfmHdrsWI_5hy4IVXtOVnGVGsVVXAEjUkiL5z1ZlsM68phdKQx94VlZTKbqxCrV92B9yB1HNlgxtLBH9ary6G-s5hJlgklVg6Ua265gHGRAC39S4TO9sE6WB3W_JKE_xS8p6hQNWoUBphCOTv5LA8-wh81CrRw-y_-f5_ha/s1280/Slide4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimTl1EnNZds3rQx30FFpfmHdrsWI_5hy4IVXtOVnGVGsVVXAEjUkiL5z1ZlsM68phdKQx94VlZTKbqxCrV92B9yB1HNlgxtLBH9ary6G-s5hJlgklVg6Ua265gHGRAC39S4TO9sE6WB3W_JKE_xS8p6hQNWoUBphCOTv5LA8-wh81CrRw-y_-f5_ha/w640-h360/Slide4.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHEtx37PvDgvYxwk1EiSCXpU-fFQlq0sOFNzVG68vit5t6BMFBc_1jt65x9SBbAo11TCTM9FlM1JJNmdGOhfbXEjsYkUYkGNPW4yssood568qNcsZxc-Qrswmm4hUeAiTu7-Kouh3camjO2voejkIKziYG9yePFnDvNDXEALe0ZI11weRGG9cUEc-Z/s1280/Slide5.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHEtx37PvDgvYxwk1EiSCXpU-fFQlq0sOFNzVG68vit5t6BMFBc_1jt65x9SBbAo11TCTM9FlM1JJNmdGOhfbXEjsYkUYkGNPW4yssood568qNcsZxc-Qrswmm4hUeAiTu7-Kouh3camjO2voejkIKziYG9yePFnDvNDXEALe0ZI11weRGG9cUEc-Z/w640-h360/Slide5.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtsyW1AdJkUBd7183Igup9-H_JBobDZWrQ1eT_WYkC_Y8fVG7fdteGeTTAkiBKakMmXsxa9PXJ3F8ftnqmbvLD3teTDkIHKzG3QyI96ujkMTgNSlYqz8bvPAvFcGsK9lUQvqzSDmhtBLUEmC8VlQwgxECQgYy8MqstRLH3JQAzZCy7TswYBzkKwKpD/s1280/Slide7.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtsyW1AdJkUBd7183Igup9-H_JBobDZWrQ1eT_WYkC_Y8fVG7fdteGeTTAkiBKakMmXsxa9PXJ3F8ftnqmbvLD3teTDkIHKzG3QyI96ujkMTgNSlYqz8bvPAvFcGsK9lUQvqzSDmhtBLUEmC8VlQwgxECQgYy8MqstRLH3JQAzZCy7TswYBzkKwKpD/w640-h360/Slide7.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJu_lYvWeeXtocMZpEWhDdfBWbRs_R-KQCqljfurAut4ePpCcHigyVLa7NRU3jvnrNHp_1pjmIG62_ASATiAWBJXc9J9GrV7B-n8yBAWQb3QSs2ETASdkCjS2-1hxlz1zZ8oCoeMkJSeP1GMoAAwutKCrjjOFxZqw_tvBVwHBSkcxxJrF9QJRYRxHU/s1280/Slide8.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJu_lYvWeeXtocMZpEWhDdfBWbRs_R-KQCqljfurAut4ePpCcHigyVLa7NRU3jvnrNHp_1pjmIG62_ASATiAWBJXc9J9GrV7B-n8yBAWQb3QSs2ETASdkCjS2-1hxlz1zZ8oCoeMkJSeP1GMoAAwutKCrjjOFxZqw_tvBVwHBSkcxxJrF9QJRYRxHU/w640-h360/Slide8.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmhc_VC-Tn9eX0NelfOOThUcUfoGCs6FFscrfldCZQe7mKM5qb4wmprAAPPv-zGhy9CnJRofRUGmdgDO2rGdUcPG1VlGLOaBxanpZTJKyRjzzjrbmhXPhrSi_apcAZ2Gx8UoFNoy-yot5Xw03LjDcZW3_HRnZcJ1l_hmJZXBxXsXsLFvFiqDxvWofl/s1280/Slide9.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmhc_VC-Tn9eX0NelfOOThUcUfoGCs6FFscrfldCZQe7mKM5qb4wmprAAPPv-zGhy9CnJRofRUGmdgDO2rGdUcPG1VlGLOaBxanpZTJKyRjzzjrbmhXPhrSi_apcAZ2Gx8UoFNoy-yot5Xw03LjDcZW3_HRnZcJ1l_hmJZXBxXsXsLFvFiqDxvWofl/w640-h360/Slide9.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8CwzR0lOkUMDVUtSp9c0pu_it83Zd_pA27VXj9i6-jDe9pLdU2dxZTJtMaT9EK_LKcSHbRBSwuTrp0V9eXDbysLvKixio3qI8d35r0aZaWbpY4Sed4M-NO-qL6aINpzb16GlctEGLv5eGvzoJrFHaIY-1KkO2zxBc4NKqa4-laaenrOdNR8tCi70j/s1280/Slide10.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8CwzR0lOkUMDVUtSp9c0pu_it83Zd_pA27VXj9i6-jDe9pLdU2dxZTJtMaT9EK_LKcSHbRBSwuTrp0V9eXDbysLvKixio3qI8d35r0aZaWbpY4Sed4M-NO-qL6aINpzb16GlctEGLv5eGvzoJrFHaIY-1KkO2zxBc4NKqa4-laaenrOdNR8tCi70j/w640-h360/Slide10.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicYReCuZt6T3CgAz0lPABuhB5W4kcNgNNnSvW8nhClwDzDe6sJJoa9JESkjC2Gq_3sA7LhL46N6KSQ5lQ23kxOvLw369MDsRM7L2V9OADH8A0TzoutLa5idEX-tVnIul51HjU3zN44NREdz9GzEqgyjzgkfv2qiLXgbh9xkzlBFGQr4uCmnmNRanag/s1280/Slide11.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicYReCuZt6T3CgAz0lPABuhB5W4kcNgNNnSvW8nhClwDzDe6sJJoa9JESkjC2Gq_3sA7LhL46N6KSQ5lQ23kxOvLw369MDsRM7L2V9OADH8A0TzoutLa5idEX-tVnIul51HjU3zN44NREdz9GzEqgyjzgkfv2qiLXgbh9xkzlBFGQr4uCmnmNRanag/w640-h360/Slide11.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXR3T-UVflI4v5mA3uWfYl-fyry0BFSSOT3aUTPWFau_MVPfcy5ckGuEcw24AvVZrrfebu0xexsc1Nm9cYjMRugfXDXEHGN8MdHNYqFHx39H-sIkTInIWZ8BojZT24mXqbuEoGqDB_tcjy-Nc5JmRvPelBK3gd0wSBpnfXxU2m1L7nC4nIvirs6vDP/s1280/Slide12.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXR3T-UVflI4v5mA3uWfYl-fyry0BFSSOT3aUTPWFau_MVPfcy5ckGuEcw24AvVZrrfebu0xexsc1Nm9cYjMRugfXDXEHGN8MdHNYqFHx39H-sIkTInIWZ8BojZT24mXqbuEoGqDB_tcjy-Nc5JmRvPelBK3gd0wSBpnfXxU2m1L7nC4nIvirs6vDP/w640-h360/Slide12.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE_OJUSwUzu11miepYTdGV7rIix9pZvLa3HQ9c1tOIEIpr-drnNJlyqkKv-NEuBfdQ7c5d8VSPO1MFDsA9F_sxvzEBlPH5-RoJtjRUKz9IopukMvgUKETgzO9waWYghvVP_o6mgDqkyVjK-nQN9Xpy8PIigg3G0txPeKVERcIyFTh4LSWzLfKvFRQ_/s1280/Slide13.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE_OJUSwUzu11miepYTdGV7rIix9pZvLa3HQ9c1tOIEIpr-drnNJlyqkKv-NEuBfdQ7c5d8VSPO1MFDsA9F_sxvzEBlPH5-RoJtjRUKz9IopukMvgUKETgzO9waWYghvVP_o6mgDqkyVjK-nQN9Xpy8PIigg3G0txPeKVERcIyFTh4LSWzLfKvFRQ_/w640-h360/Slide13.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhulcI1z1iWJ6qKpSq6NcHp7siaA4pW5s7UaDguKCFtbPnLxZ0auJ6W0moIuaAqLlOOGQtP2mbweaazBLWQvM9u7qergCACuvsBUd6drLK9ZB-9tNLMEnZXR5eau9znM8nH_BI0TPlhk1Tq_1fcSIjV5-NkgsaOByP2RunyR0Ka2OTAnxoKtxzw2qZJ/s1280/Slide14.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhulcI1z1iWJ6qKpSq6NcHp7siaA4pW5s7UaDguKCFtbPnLxZ0auJ6W0moIuaAqLlOOGQtP2mbweaazBLWQvM9u7qergCACuvsBUd6drLK9ZB-9tNLMEnZXR5eau9znM8nH_BI0TPlhk1Tq_1fcSIjV5-NkgsaOByP2RunyR0Ka2OTAnxoKtxzw2qZJ/w640-h360/Slide14.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMgWw_qGjfPWyCmHJYgVRBBuBcOumWA63LcHdnE5Ut7ZhJZSXWbHnG2VdxUEMF0rp3fwGLO4GxNs_SNGh87Z0kJ6oS74XuZyFbDJ5BBpJS7uaRCrQk1L9hIbonIlKI-ml2Z0mvBaUR_Ld1PUOUOxDpsRf5WGe7lHXmNLUDv_joHEDSZYMIm7_efIHV/s1280/Slide15.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMgWw_qGjfPWyCmHJYgVRBBuBcOumWA63LcHdnE5Ut7ZhJZSXWbHnG2VdxUEMF0rp3fwGLO4GxNs_SNGh87Z0kJ6oS74XuZyFbDJ5BBpJS7uaRCrQk1L9hIbonIlKI-ml2Z0mvBaUR_Ld1PUOUOxDpsRf5WGe7lHXmNLUDv_joHEDSZYMIm7_efIHV/w640-h360/Slide15.JPG" width="640" /></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj17B7-NDnoPeFRkfWxBnJJvb_PP0yTZ8B_mIGWYFv-j_9LC6PkiAjwzwTrA5CXmMRkkfflhxXg1kxj0uDuviCfV685iqLY1SOBO7BRAbpMlrUTajkKJdiWm1l9lS9-sDMBbssyHocqlKd0s65ObeyiJhFVOeENh7lY5gy-WuveXuauaInxu5Q5Tr9b/s1280/Slide18.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj17B7-NDnoPeFRkfWxBnJJvb_PP0yTZ8B_mIGWYFv-j_9LC6PkiAjwzwTrA5CXmMRkkfflhxXg1kxj0uDuviCfV685iqLY1SOBO7BRAbpMlrUTajkKJdiWm1l9lS9-sDMBbssyHocqlKd0s65ObeyiJhFVOeENh7lY5gy-WuveXuauaInxu5Q5Tr9b/w640-h360/Slide18.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh68srUAuVQIbkRczeAzb1R-NMHrnT2RKo-g9par_Z0tUjxijqDlzL3hQ2smeMB1INTIvZMMnkoARF29kqOp3TEiFAmILe6Uy9Qz6cabVKemmL9_S1HA7yEymFtFCtLaqE-wAyvEBaXcB2u-6322g4g6tWfl4DW_dtfyGrBdY5SYTb9i2pFIA4U6z21/s1280/Slide16.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh68srUAuVQIbkRczeAzb1R-NMHrnT2RKo-g9par_Z0tUjxijqDlzL3hQ2smeMB1INTIvZMMnkoARF29kqOp3TEiFAmILe6Uy9Qz6cabVKemmL9_S1HA7yEymFtFCtLaqE-wAyvEBaXcB2u-6322g4g6tWfl4DW_dtfyGrBdY5SYTb9i2pFIA4U6z21/w640-h360/Slide16.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmpG-AzpJXmT-fVrtCwhtO19GYbmsumAcwAv0GG-mphty9N2MkVXQto6atRQi5RjbNGPBD6anBH4JbXRAztDEmdzufDSPdgP7_zl-wZxpmPO63EhIHzbU8wRXpt0BAbv6A66HpHwlH_E9k2K1AethbzIXCq_6TerW6REaJQtFbod_8oK0lrMk1Su_c/s1280/Slide17.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmpG-AzpJXmT-fVrtCwhtO19GYbmsumAcwAv0GG-mphty9N2MkVXQto6atRQi5RjbNGPBD6anBH4JbXRAztDEmdzufDSPdgP7_zl-wZxpmPO63EhIHzbU8wRXpt0BAbv6A66HpHwlH_E9k2K1AethbzIXCq_6TerW6REaJQtFbod_8oK0lrMk1Su_c/w640-h360/Slide17.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">© Will
Mahoney 2022<o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">All rights
reserved. No part of this blog post nor
any associated photo can be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or
transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical or
photocopying, recording, or otherwise without prior written permission of the
author and photographer.<o:p></o:p></p></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><br /><p></p>Will Mahoneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14657949510251910608noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1334639788072532472.post-19762116935685833052022-12-28T15:48:00.002-08:002022-12-30T13:53:59.098-08:00Wednesday, 9 November 2022: A Fast, White-Knuckle Ride Back to Havana<p><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;">Yesterday, the hostess
at my </span><b style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;"><i>casa particular</i></b><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;">, Silvia, arranged for a </span><b style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;"><i>colectivo</i></b><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;"> (group taxi) to
pick me up at 7:30 this morning for my trip back to Havana.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;">I have enjoyed visiting La Punta and
Cienfuegos but I wouldn’t bother returning.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;">
</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;">Nor would I go back to Santa Clara or Sancti Spíritus a second
time.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;">Trinidad is OK but mainly as a
stopping off spot on the way to the mountains of Topes de Collantes.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;">Still, these cities and the countryside in
between have provided me with a good look at Cuban life and landscapes outside
Havana.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0vkoqcNzn5hbvokteTKTQNhecgNTGclhIy6Trq6enMzg1v692YvU_8neu2q7ODNrC0EuiB98jsEvp1IEQe1wl0R88fxuj19b4EEChxKcB476ETusZpNqnHNjert_DcWEspdMxdsWMZuDd0nkcoAfM_mL9AL9RU6a9grR8ykHT19PeAtmY84roXEwb/s1280/Slide1.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0vkoqcNzn5hbvokteTKTQNhecgNTGclhIy6Trq6enMzg1v692YvU_8neu2q7ODNrC0EuiB98jsEvp1IEQe1wl0R88fxuj19b4EEChxKcB476ETusZpNqnHNjert_DcWEspdMxdsWMZuDd0nkcoAfM_mL9AL9RU6a9grR8ykHT19PeAtmY84roXEwb/w640-h360/Slide1.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Early in the morning,
I take a walk in the park at the scenic and quiet tip of La Punta one last
time. 7:30 comes and goes giving me
extra time to check on the hurricane situation. I learn that Nicole will
totally miss Fort Lauderdale where I’m scheduled to arrive tomorrow morning. I’m
starting to get nervous about the <b><i>colectivo</i></b> actually arriving when a
black, late-model Peugeot pulls up at 7:50.
The price is a reasonable $25 for the 240 km (150 mile) trip to the same
<b><i>casa
particular</i></b> where I stayed in Old Havana when I first arrived in
Cuba. I’m the first passenger to be
picked up by Mario which is great because I get the front passenger seat rather
than being cooped up with others in the back seat. He drives into Cienfuegos and picks up three
young Spaniards (one guy, two women) at their B&B.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYO1YQOG8EmZ_zDXcMIMn5HbOgdlD5Q25_S-DCZaz2zAfgkKp32SW-EzpN89HdfdSpQronK3cmIeh8YXkCb49OYali33ELMfTkyHOmoojgYcVC862SSB_HxmqoFOm7GePTV5v5JXE99CmKZF3IdKOS9QTdddPF6A5mRbEM_vtCSlTb7MGBkvx15R7Q/s1280/Slide2.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYO1YQOG8EmZ_zDXcMIMn5HbOgdlD5Q25_S-DCZaz2zAfgkKp32SW-EzpN89HdfdSpQronK3cmIeh8YXkCb49OYali33ELMfTkyHOmoojgYcVC862SSB_HxmqoFOm7GePTV5v5JXE99CmKZF3IdKOS9QTdddPF6A5mRbEM_vtCSlTb7MGBkvx15R7Q/w640-h360/Slide2.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></p>Mario has a
“lead-foot” and I feel a bit nervous when he’s doing 120 kph (75 mph) on the
two-lane highway leading up to the six-lane </span><b style="font-size: 12pt;"><i>Autopista Nacional</i></b><span style="font-size: 12pt;">. </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">He gets up to 140 (87 mph) a couple times on
the </span><b style="font-size: 12pt;"><i>autopista</i></b><span style="font-size: 12pt;">.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">After about 1½ hours, Mario pulls off at an
open-air diner along the highway.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">There
are no breakfast choices for a vegetarian so I order a grilled cheese sandwich
with veggies and hot sauce.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I also get a
frappuccino, unusual for me as I normally don’t drink coffee.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I get nervous when I see the waitress add
crushed ice from a refrigerator.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">
</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">However, there are no negative effects on my digestive system (and
fortunately, I’ve had no stomach problems for the past three days).</span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmcEqN3cYPAK6ROw99ntcwMlNB4evVWzlPX6b5ZAE6IW0Kfqq9xS_NKwcYiaCrPvdh_CaPWLtlt6XcYqSvBR7JqKn58HLOW-Lo58Mppx9SgMqI0T0DQjThe-cVYyZS86s43lcvRREVXcOzG_Zr4-kj285H67Qp24KjQqlKlswveWYe2atH-5c95-R1/s1280/Slide3.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmcEqN3cYPAK6ROw99ntcwMlNB4evVWzlPX6b5ZAE6IW0Kfqq9xS_NKwcYiaCrPvdh_CaPWLtlt6XcYqSvBR7JqKn58HLOW-Lo58Mppx9SgMqI0T0DQjThe-cVYyZS86s43lcvRREVXcOzG_Zr4-kj285H67Qp24KjQqlKlswveWYe2atH-5c95-R1/w640-h360/Slide3.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Even with the food
stop, we arrive in Havana in under three hours.
Mario drives into the city from the northeast and through the tunnel
under Havana Harbor. He drops the three
Spaniards off first, then I help him find his way to <b><i>Balcones</i></b> (my <b><i>casa
particular</i></b>). When I walk into my
room, on the bed is my Wilson gym bag which they have been holding for me for
the past 15 days. The gym bag has the
books and CDs which I bought in Havana and didn’t want to lug with me while
travelling in Cuba. My missing drain
stopper is in the sink. The woman who
checks me in makes arrangements for a taxi at 5:45 tomorrow morning. Assuming the cab works out, I definitely
should give <b><i>Balcones</i></b> a good review.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmxYIPIG24lFI9--eAmktBpC86MbVy36KtpwiEtAZ2QimafnUzlDYUk5NKbjhzcj8lzSLBUsjC8h4br3M8qV5GO9SNLqSZMnxSFQkyriux0r_i5_cV7sukSzryo6K09tnJHD7gyWaMgBZJBi8Hp7mq1P4JURFD_YcycTWe-0jBwz4zwiJ9d1kzuq7S/s1280/Slide4.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmxYIPIG24lFI9--eAmktBpC86MbVy36KtpwiEtAZ2QimafnUzlDYUk5NKbjhzcj8lzSLBUsjC8h4br3M8qV5GO9SNLqSZMnxSFQkyriux0r_i5_cV7sukSzryo6K09tnJHD7gyWaMgBZJBi8Hp7mq1P4JURFD_YcycTWe-0jBwz4zwiJ9d1kzuq7S/w640-h360/Slide4.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_74XUKS4Q79DwFDv0Slk7a5P0Gaee-4LxDa1K0Cy1X0FGmhVcriicJK9W0DKFOLLwvNB0OwZJzLzcfONlYmSHu_VzMAgMSnhMqISVn8tnaxBmqcUOVDrK4wSX4aBaSp2ARdsFqWm8GzJsz0qZUa3-41FX7h9Tg5rRbZtreBq4f3Tyd2Djcc1EsEzB/s1280/Slide5.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_74XUKS4Q79DwFDv0Slk7a5P0Gaee-4LxDa1K0Cy1X0FGmhVcriicJK9W0DKFOLLwvNB0OwZJzLzcfONlYmSHu_VzMAgMSnhMqISVn8tnaxBmqcUOVDrK4wSX4aBaSp2ARdsFqWm8GzJsz0qZUa3-41FX7h9Tg5rRbZtreBq4f3Tyd2Djcc1EsEzB/w640-h360/Slide5.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">First order of
business is checking on my flights tomorrow.
Yes, they are both still scheduled to leave on time. I walk a few blocks to the Jibaro Restaurant
for lunch where I had a good meal a couple weeks ago. Their only veggie option today is spaghetti
margarita with cheese, but it’s good as is the chocolate cake. Then I walk up to the Natural History museum
– damn, closed today. Then I try a mural
museum but it’s about to close for the day.
During my walk, I come across a tall black fellow with a display of mostly
used books in Spanish or English. I
browse a bit and spot another book by Pedro Juan Gutiérrez that I have planned
to buy. The seller seems very
knowledgeable about Gutiérrez. I
speculate that maybe he has a degree in Spanish literature and is a teacher
supplementing his meager government salary by selling books on the street. He offers me a deal on two more Gutiérrez
books but my gym bag is already getting too heavy and bulky with all the books
I’ve bought. Besides, when will I get
around to reading all of them, especially given my slow Spanish reading
speed? </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghThbiGzVgrIrxCddgeKWAEpip9tr44sa-RhVBqFBfAJ-BSYKdNpj9hkR4A74chhAjJODO1plA3FB17A-uFhX2gegwUK67cn47Gxhev9G9w5cV5ZbNe7xd4ZMDcU07_kL3aKTG44nOFGwzAyShuEM9a41aXeJV836muA98znnBytBe-Ykt0mJFzlu2/s1280/Slide9.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghThbiGzVgrIrxCddgeKWAEpip9tr44sa-RhVBqFBfAJ-BSYKdNpj9hkR4A74chhAjJODO1plA3FB17A-uFhX2gegwUK67cn47Gxhev9G9w5cV5ZbNe7xd4ZMDcU07_kL3aKTG44nOFGwzAyShuEM9a41aXeJV836muA98znnBytBe-Ykt0mJFzlu2/w640-h360/Slide9.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /> <o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_KeB7ja1zvzBB0rNa7uXF-X9SUYXf9_CeE3dgZdw123T8-nPjnxOgzxf3zjBoYVXqL49FA4t4L28RiLpUINUxIuvIG1qW1I_538Sr2h08YlZcEQXMyF0LHSxm3rhEKywCCIlVAcYj4Mt03Je4JHJbji-52NGRVkXtJuCw-baKIe_dXnfSAR0rklbn/s1280/Slide6.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_KeB7ja1zvzBB0rNa7uXF-X9SUYXf9_CeE3dgZdw123T8-nPjnxOgzxf3zjBoYVXqL49FA4t4L28RiLpUINUxIuvIG1qW1I_538Sr2h08YlZcEQXMyF0LHSxm3rhEKywCCIlVAcYj4Mt03Je4JHJbji-52NGRVkXtJuCw-baKIe_dXnfSAR0rklbn/w640-h360/Slide6.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7JYhukT3jPSQ0PT6D_v26tbpWCmR487dzecKlZMVJpvh6FhGCmrXPeoG2_PSShC45nCOnglfpv7u6c4EpBhp66hL0F2AX28zPUMNhDJW3-NCqLLkS2eHkzOUL_McCyInePjuboX6cJh3ZnBwQqF5uXLwmSxlQ9JdWSGpP7K2YLACyPk9L9_voTJ2s/s1280/Slide8.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7JYhukT3jPSQ0PT6D_v26tbpWCmR487dzecKlZMVJpvh6FhGCmrXPeoG2_PSShC45nCOnglfpv7u6c4EpBhp66hL0F2AX28zPUMNhDJW3-NCqLLkS2eHkzOUL_McCyInePjuboX6cJh3ZnBwQqF5uXLwmSxlQ9JdWSGpP7K2YLACyPk9L9_voTJ2s/w640-h360/Slide8.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1qNo4F1yGOtYuwlNX65_gs-FqF2S8tNjVIxoM6C-eF1veRpy9rDFRdPf4214wPBYVXTJ4bcM0ZClWF7F9VHWWRtnbUd8uMsG48X3h9HQeqE7x_5MFWyWY58DzaaW84kZRcbk6lOQJe-nPjphCznigC2bQJDFSByhxhHReuw08vEKtUoe0eUPPxfaI/s1280/Slide7.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1qNo4F1yGOtYuwlNX65_gs-FqF2S8tNjVIxoM6C-eF1veRpy9rDFRdPf4214wPBYVXTJ4bcM0ZClWF7F9VHWWRtnbUd8uMsG48X3h9HQeqE7x_5MFWyWY58DzaaW84kZRcbk6lOQJe-nPjphCznigC2bQJDFSByhxhHReuw08vEKtUoe0eUPPxfaI/w640-h360/Slide7.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I see a notice on a
building of a lecture by an author that looks interesting. Perfect, it starts in ½ hour. But when I try to find the address for the
lecture, it doesn’t seem to exist. Well,
except for the book and some more photos of Old Havana, I’ve struck out this
afternoon.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">For dinner, I look
over several menus but nothing appeals.
Sigh, I may as well get another pizza at the joint near <b><i>La
Plaza Vieja</i></b> where I got a good one two weeks ago. I’m really sick of the lack of vegetarian
choices in Cuba. I’m ready to be back in
Denver where I can find a variety of restaurants offering vegan dishes, and
back to cooking for myself and Judy with a great variety of ingredients.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">It’s now 8:50 PM and
I’m packed and ready for tomorrow, hopeful that Hurricane Nicole doesn’t cause
flight delays or cancellations. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">
<o:p></o:p></span></p><p>
<span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;">© Will
Mahoney 2022<o:p></o:p></span></p><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;">
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">All rights
reserved.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No part of this blog post nor
any associated photo can be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or
transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical or
photocopying, recording, or otherwise without prior written permission of the
author and photographer.<o:p></o:p></p><br /></span><p></p>Will Mahoneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14657949510251910608noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1334639788072532472.post-64644454075223671232022-12-27T16:46:00.001-08:002022-12-30T13:54:25.957-08:00Tuesday, 8 November 2022: A Relatively Uninspiring Day in Cienfuegos<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDsqcpUvQWHoWZ707IfvRra2r9EQdx0L-qr1HZ5FuK2paehEJVVN1TRoHysLb6SRXp71L-NFvBzgsseZAvxeBVUW66HLHKPDBCQZIuzH7QFjenVEtqwRpaqSLbemQ_JKYWJfWYYWcJbwF4xHecZAGFtI3AfQZWblL0djpHid3eL995EGpUKtdbQwNm/s1280/Slide5.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDsqcpUvQWHoWZ707IfvRra2r9EQdx0L-qr1HZ5FuK2paehEJVVN1TRoHysLb6SRXp71L-NFvBzgsseZAvxeBVUW66HLHKPDBCQZIuzH7QFjenVEtqwRpaqSLbemQ_JKYWJfWYYWcJbwF4xHecZAGFtI3AfQZWblL0djpHid3eL995EGpUKtdbQwNm/w640-h360/Slide5.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;">A good breakfast at my
</span><b style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;"><i>casa
particular</i></b><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;"> at including pancakes.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;">
</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;">The wifi here is spotty and I’m antsy as I want to track Hurricane
Nicole as she bears down on Florida potentially interfering with my flights in
two days.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;">I later learn that the wifi
only works when Silvia’s son-in-law turns it on as they get charged by the
hour.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;">Miraculously, the power stays on
all day and night today.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;"> </span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZDqLOC2Ro12l9wlpEFwq7mVdJoBfOjorB2z7-y3Uc3XaeJNGXFgUdqzDPG-R5RV1NWsd_A19XYjD87imVS58DSJ-izj74BY90oxuOCslcrPrx9kipDUOc3Ps6IlzHOAuWKzLzqETF8RFFhqP8ONoWSD8QOAlOvQ5U3Socrp_oI4S6AVHDQ2hJ1dxy/s1280/Slide1.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZDqLOC2Ro12l9wlpEFwq7mVdJoBfOjorB2z7-y3Uc3XaeJNGXFgUdqzDPG-R5RV1NWsd_A19XYjD87imVS58DSJ-izj74BY90oxuOCslcrPrx9kipDUOc3Ps6IlzHOAuWKzLzqETF8RFFhqP8ONoWSD8QOAlOvQ5U3Socrp_oI4S6AVHDQ2hJ1dxy/w640-h360/Slide1.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">After breakfast, I
walk north up <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Calle 37</i></b> and <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Paseo El Prado</i></b> a couple miles toward
downtown Cienfuegos (translation:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>100
fires), a city of 150,000.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because this
city is on a large bay, it’s not as hot as the other towns I’ve visited in Cuba
and there is usually a nice breeze.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
check out a Chinese Restaurant for lunch but there is almost nothing vegetarian
on the menu and the selections are overpriced.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I’m getting burned out on sightseeing and decide to turn around.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2HF3asNA-NYzK0EuTY0-WmV88xdEixk6EMmshIUY312PSEjHdIpgyE1yKt3nG0D7Mdn76r7YMsO3Ooy010CemX8XtEn3cbaPTJxDSrBLuaZTkhMj98C7tw-KIY_kgESTefyaqs37qXTVJG8lzek0Ybh6pkWa6nxnWwacqnnsUAeajYoehZBEdgDCL/s1280/Slide2.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2HF3asNA-NYzK0EuTY0-WmV88xdEixk6EMmshIUY312PSEjHdIpgyE1yKt3nG0D7Mdn76r7YMsO3Ooy010CemX8XtEn3cbaPTJxDSrBLuaZTkhMj98C7tw-KIY_kgESTefyaqs37qXTVJG8lzek0Ybh6pkWa6nxnWwacqnnsUAeajYoehZBEdgDCL/w640-h360/Slide2.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhurAulNH9iF-GS1P0fkMH1xJ2e5GU-prGcwfDcnLIP86Llx1vP3CpEa1uqzHmkDHnJRIx331RchMxtKq34I7J2Gy1HNf3Xh4YuyHBaqOrc23Dl83Rw03-VqrG6KXDSUEOpwKTTrRc_UUwFyQHWHtmwPuKOOj_P_V6pEcL6Wxu_Yzkb64fWkm4eHBr6/s1280/Slide3.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhurAulNH9iF-GS1P0fkMH1xJ2e5GU-prGcwfDcnLIP86Llx1vP3CpEa1uqzHmkDHnJRIx331RchMxtKq34I7J2Gy1HNf3Xh4YuyHBaqOrc23Dl83Rw03-VqrG6KXDSUEOpwKTTrRc_UUwFyQHWHtmwPuKOOj_P_V6pEcL6Wxu_Yzkb64fWkm4eHBr6/w640-h360/Slide3.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipHCQUszW0FG5Lw8JyAgrknaElAYLxYRHDpOIIrGGoMNhOPtacg5nog75HWUH1uhZHdg7sunSAC7CvMKJwdybN5yw7uu46kSfF6Qh8WYlf0-aX90pC6Ui2le61RYi_HhtR7r1hxCZg2yL6Qr23UhGVdrj152Hmhdk3WUYaLr_cSOPdT0-IGSSuEuhd/s1280/Slide4.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipHCQUszW0FG5Lw8JyAgrknaElAYLxYRHDpOIIrGGoMNhOPtacg5nog75HWUH1uhZHdg7sunSAC7CvMKJwdybN5yw7uu46kSfF6Qh8WYlf0-aX90pC6Ui2le61RYi_HhtR7r1hxCZg2yL6Qr23UhGVdrj152Hmhdk3WUYaLr_cSOPdT0-IGSSuEuhd/w640-h360/Slide4.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7tN8_fjqXsm9_Kh98UGZ8QOfzr5wojNvnyNcELwbdxH9lznMwR7LnFSAHKihXBFVlMSbHBG75AwvCmPWF9fCtMquvgFKzGZ4xqqKm1Fs8YlQFywc6gW8qF806bFAklCMX1DyFeaI7f3ACfTz73hOXfl3WvwiUqrqmgCXVpNidlhojMGzvXzSsGdNv/s1280/Slide6.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7tN8_fjqXsm9_Kh98UGZ8QOfzr5wojNvnyNcELwbdxH9lznMwR7LnFSAHKihXBFVlMSbHBG75AwvCmPWF9fCtMquvgFKzGZ4xqqKm1Fs8YlQFywc6gW8qF806bFAklCMX1DyFeaI7f3ACfTz73hOXfl3WvwiUqrqmgCXVpNidlhojMGzvXzSsGdNv/w640-h360/Slide6.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">As I’m heading back
toward <b><i>La Punta</i></b> (also called <b><i>Punta Gorda</i></b>), I hear some great
Latin jazz coming from a building along <b><i>El Prado</i></b>. I stand in the open door for a minute and a
guy motions for me to come in. Damn,
these dudes are really going after it. There’s
a trumpet, trombone, tenor sax, electric piano, electric bass, and lots of percussion. Appears to be just a garage band, but these
cats are really good! This is the
highlight of my day. But then, shit,
after two tunes the jam session is over and everyone starts packing up. I catch the tenor player’s eye and give him a
big thumbs up. He comes over to meet
me. I tell him I’m from the U.S. and
loved what they were doing. He’s very
pleased. This is probably the best music
I’ve heard in Cuba. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2lGF5saSvJhwabi4hn98-v-le7b2FQ_nc9FUEiZVjI6sL_Clzi2zWbhiedIxnXQ8pM1voQtrSMsA1zTMQFPbcorQVYi8mXMltQm89iDvtFwZxGgnqKDFQ7cMxoeBMu72lEHe0AXtLyZRvRauLxsqRpi4liwHawFGHgyhcyNF7QzPGQcRxnq11I84e/s1280/Slide9.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2lGF5saSvJhwabi4hn98-v-le7b2FQ_nc9FUEiZVjI6sL_Clzi2zWbhiedIxnXQ8pM1voQtrSMsA1zTMQFPbcorQVYi8mXMltQm89iDvtFwZxGgnqKDFQ7cMxoeBMu72lEHe0AXtLyZRvRauLxsqRpi4liwHawFGHgyhcyNF7QzPGQcRxnq11I84e/w640-h360/Slide9.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIPckGb-c5GRwVf8hhVGGpKahcQ62_6v3GSP39V3As0k1gPraejZTSnnB25Ov1-HT9NvrUCwNVdqBAH8vSt0HEYxFqClYTBlVZIG20ebBR-kA9WEoHWHvyXVltNlc_Fn5ssXiIfLUbd2adVXweRmeFehtCLJPXRMorJK4OymI0Rn8B5PpsW_5YZ9AW/s1280/Slide7.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIPckGb-c5GRwVf8hhVGGpKahcQ62_6v3GSP39V3As0k1gPraejZTSnnB25Ov1-HT9NvrUCwNVdqBAH8vSt0HEYxFqClYTBlVZIG20ebBR-kA9WEoHWHvyXVltNlc_Fn5ssXiIfLUbd2adVXweRmeFehtCLJPXRMorJK4OymI0Rn8B5PpsW_5YZ9AW/w640-h360/Slide7.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnUUnBgh8NliZMeh8imwaUsGzHHffvl4dPnwcEw1SG2mClMZFq8Rfb2Ke7WlgQT4vIWhtIIu9VRQJ5R_u60FuwZJighsUIs5A8uZ3JCTkD3-3Re95-WoRkG-WDt2FsnPPVfjN2WQLwUUHmAwNgI4qQGNzttnfPsv5AeU48lxqXbyEVoKsSJ6YEOz-E/s1280/Slide8.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnUUnBgh8NliZMeh8imwaUsGzHHffvl4dPnwcEw1SG2mClMZFq8Rfb2Ke7WlgQT4vIWhtIIu9VRQJ5R_u60FuwZJighsUIs5A8uZ3JCTkD3-3Re95-WoRkG-WDt2FsnPPVfjN2WQLwUUHmAwNgI4qQGNzttnfPsv5AeU48lxqXbyEVoKsSJ6YEOz-E/w640-h360/Slide8.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I check out the menu
at a restaurant called Shambala.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">They
actually have </span><b style="font-size: 12pt;"><i>Moros y Cristianos</i></b><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> (beans and rice) on the menu.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The meal is nothing special.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">It could have used some veggies.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">All they have for dessert today is flan.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I give it a try and am not disappointed.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">It’s a chocolate flan with butterscotch
sauce.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">My taste buds heartily approve
and the prices are very reasonable.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_2hpJLgM8PWtPzurGBiPfFE_7iMkvEJBnN2yIHn31CSn-82xTlYcDHc3QXjBUEbvnJZuvSLj_ksdfUCX_UKZU83V_mvjr8EZT5uWFROPQlgWuUN3GBbwCXqDw2jtYGpc6z_V6f_1sXdGUE6lQpbwLBi9pSBxoGDrXSYQSmv5gkUDyzEGNhjMwIikZ/s1280/Slide11.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_2hpJLgM8PWtPzurGBiPfFE_7iMkvEJBnN2yIHn31CSn-82xTlYcDHc3QXjBUEbvnJZuvSLj_ksdfUCX_UKZU83V_mvjr8EZT5uWFROPQlgWuUN3GBbwCXqDw2jtYGpc6z_V6f_1sXdGUE6lQpbwLBi9pSBxoGDrXSYQSmv5gkUDyzEGNhjMwIikZ/w640-h360/Slide11.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I take a moto-taxi
back to <b><i>La Punta</i></b> and read most of the afternoon. I’m able to get enough wifi to learn that
there are no flight cancellations in or out of Fort Lauderdale so far. Looks like <b><i>Madre Naturaleza</i></b> may save
my <b><i>culo</i></b>
(ass). Nicole appears to be turning
north and is predicted to hit north of West Palm Beach, about 100 miles north
of the Fort Lauderdale-Hollywood Airport. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_cnnLs9sAakr6EbVmEDgnPnF2MrelASbjVk29augsTa1QmoUxsFkURWoWUDnUpavxqE0oEDxqMZQFDrsI8d3kmmlI0T1jC0Oi1GOM2czLqpKD1mVoXnaYnlisiph8tWg-Pztp7IVBbQ5GlkcrUXUufCxpa-02xTjHp5iKctz9RMVU-_dG1DtpKMW_/s1280/Slide12.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_cnnLs9sAakr6EbVmEDgnPnF2MrelASbjVk29augsTa1QmoUxsFkURWoWUDnUpavxqE0oEDxqMZQFDrsI8d3kmmlI0T1jC0Oi1GOM2czLqpKD1mVoXnaYnlisiph8tWg-Pztp7IVBbQ5GlkcrUXUufCxpa-02xTjHp5iKctz9RMVU-_dG1DtpKMW_/w640-h360/Slide12.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnUKeDuR3s9o8Up8bfYCE7Wskfjrx6FIca8qbOxqE_27LH9NGuZYFC7hhoFn43zuN6zFZ6psf1Nlg9QNkqikMKyRm6mkUwJrRvwluznA0WTLlbCma2s1hG16FInK6mfES79D57oDmbMtbk_xP6itw-jEIQAdbYN8d-9yGJDkWGodQt3gizkYkdqy-t/s1280/Slide10.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnUKeDuR3s9o8Up8bfYCE7Wskfjrx6FIca8qbOxqE_27LH9NGuZYFC7hhoFn43zuN6zFZ6psf1Nlg9QNkqikMKyRm6mkUwJrRvwluznA0WTLlbCma2s1hG16FInK6mfES79D57oDmbMtbk_xP6itw-jEIQAdbYN8d-9yGJDkWGodQt3gizkYkdqy-t/w640-h360/Slide10.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">For dinner, I have the
choice of the two overpriced restaurants where I ate yesterday unless I want to
go all the way back downtown. Yeah, I
know they’ve got atmosphere and are right on the water but this isn’t the Cuba
I’ve become used to. I choose Camile’s
where I had the okra with rice yesterday.
I order spaghetti marinara. It
takes forever even though there are hardly any other customers in the
restaurant. The bad music they are
playing on their audio system is so loud, I have to cover my ears while reading
my book. When the spaghetti finally
arrives, it’s a miniscule helping in a small bowl even though it’s supposed to
be a main dish. I’ve had enough of this
B.S. I tell the waiter it’s ridiculously
small and walk out, something I rarely do. </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I walk to <b><i>Restaurante
Largato</i></b> (Spanish for lizard) next door which is practically deserted. All they have is their fixed price multiple
course dinner (way more food than I want) for $22.00, but I can order ala
carte. I’m pissed off and walk out. Then I contemplate going to bed hungry (it’s
about 7:30 PM and I’m not going to try to find a taxi to go back into
town). I swallow my pride and go back
into <b><i>Largato</i></b>. I order a vegetarian soup which is actually
good but it’s a long wait. I’m still
hungry so I order some veggie balls which also take forever. Usually, I don’t get bent out of shape about
slow service because I bury myself in a book but this is nuts. After I finish, I wait and wait some more and
finally have to practically tackle the manager to get the bill. I wouldn’t mind their inflated prices so much
had the service not been abysmal. I
contemplate giving both restaurants bad reviews on Trip Advisor. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span> <o:p></o:p></span></p><p>
<span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">© Will
Mahoney 2022<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="text-align: left;">All rights
reserved.</span><span style="text-align: left;"> </span><span style="text-align: left;">No part of this blog post nor
any associated photo can be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or
transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical or
photocopying, recording, or otherwise without prior written permission of the
author and photographer.</span> </span></p>Will Mahoneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14657949510251910608noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1334639788072532472.post-82412177706954943682022-12-26T17:15:00.001-08:002022-12-30T13:54:54.348-08:00Trashing Cuba<p><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;">Cuba, you have a trash
problem.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;">Yes, I know – you’re not alone.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;">Much of the world has a trash problem.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;">From my experience, it’s a typical and regrettable
problem in many developing countries.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;">
</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;">Why?</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;">First of all, countries like
Cuba don’t have an adequate infrastructure for collecting trash and disposing
it in a sanitary manner.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;">Furthermore,
people haven’t been taught an ethic of keeping public spaces clean.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;">There is no monetary incentive for them to
recycle their beverage containers or enforceable laws mandating that they throw
waste paper in a trash can.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;">And finally,
if you’re poor, you have other priorities like figuring out where you next meal
is coming from.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTv58UYJXjmetWiXOKJRZaCWb0sp2N0Slz3feOf4vF5rNgl25tKS4GEry0C93FAcDyhc7TaX9pe4hlJXzJwKmCPBH6lxNvPfvH_jXKaN27FUnMl51r6XGV6GtmJDYMHO02K_j_7RqawXtQzjap8PJsvoqnJUM9yy7_jYo9Z-0gPwvSfdwwh2L3ofmx/s1280/Slide1.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTv58UYJXjmetWiXOKJRZaCWb0sp2N0Slz3feOf4vF5rNgl25tKS4GEry0C93FAcDyhc7TaX9pe4hlJXzJwKmCPBH6lxNvPfvH_jXKaN27FUnMl51r6XGV6GtmJDYMHO02K_j_7RqawXtQzjap8PJsvoqnJUM9yy7_jYo9Z-0gPwvSfdwwh2L3ofmx/w640-h360/Slide1.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm-4iOIg-4qOK-v-zWlPP0LDUJdAeIKtRRmmgpuAB3VOYLAkIgkNy-R8Z6ttTXcV4agxeTUW7i1rWAtSfgax8-k1yBwBy4j-LTGUpxpFDMGoJh7jCdqXb_GgcEbQ37Cn6Dh0BVGnzeHNCGiTQ404XuiYLIwI6mWcEkkX55IfbEY_6KqG0Jch9_Ugoz/s1280/Slide2.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm-4iOIg-4qOK-v-zWlPP0LDUJdAeIKtRRmmgpuAB3VOYLAkIgkNy-R8Z6ttTXcV4agxeTUW7i1rWAtSfgax8-k1yBwBy4j-LTGUpxpFDMGoJh7jCdqXb_GgcEbQ37Cn6Dh0BVGnzeHNCGiTQ404XuiYLIwI6mWcEkkX55IfbEY_6KqG0Jch9_Ugoz/w640-h360/Slide2.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">To be fair, it’s not
just developing countries that have a trash problem. When I was a kid, roadsides in the U.S. were
full of trash. They probably would still
be were it not for adopt-a-highway programs that bring civic-minded people out
to clean up a stretch of road and take pride in the results of their group
effort. Environmental education in
schools has certainly also helped. We
currently find it easier to get rid of our trash than we did 50+ years ago. Most parks, highway rest areas, and city
downtown areas have trash cans which are regularly emptied. Many cities like Denver provide residents
with recycling bins. And yet, it amazes
me how many people in Denver don’t use them.
Walk along a street on trash collection day and see how many recyclable
items have put with the trash by people who can’t be bothered with separating
their waste. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7p-dYs_LrKrfzUYWpr0H9TJNymjctyqLQqPTNV5ZAzjhZxGLTL9BIDsZ_ZwuZm5dvPqt58eJyh1zf4LtZ_MzoPaypeMqTxPbztte1hvPhqMpsIORJYaK-qiwInFcy3pDuMmnuhxtgRtdC-NzaPjg78r2UZAyFehIWSr--uH1Vy4ubPkm16numRoDm/s1280/Slide3.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7p-dYs_LrKrfzUYWpr0H9TJNymjctyqLQqPTNV5ZAzjhZxGLTL9BIDsZ_ZwuZm5dvPqt58eJyh1zf4LtZ_MzoPaypeMqTxPbztte1hvPhqMpsIORJYaK-qiwInFcy3pDuMmnuhxtgRtdC-NzaPjg78r2UZAyFehIWSr--uH1Vy4ubPkm16numRoDm/w640-h360/Slide3.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9p-P5ptihja1Didt8Ac2GGyWbzAhciL4IM2AaK5wRTq66-lrm1h54GzADgB0H0c5TGDWwlN9PAFmqHHwHZAhV3arUCAlg9cVV5JRB-Z0U1tTKGXd-Qzs7kwnWmQxyVskfG3dglMz220Pcyzwq_vTbR0kLkIAYxVrp30gzN860esXWHJyCRfL-s1tV/s1280/Slide4.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9p-P5ptihja1Didt8Ac2GGyWbzAhciL4IM2AaK5wRTq66-lrm1h54GzADgB0H0c5TGDWwlN9PAFmqHHwHZAhV3arUCAlg9cVV5JRB-Z0U1tTKGXd-Qzs7kwnWmQxyVskfG3dglMz220Pcyzwq_vTbR0kLkIAYxVrp30gzN860esXWHJyCRfL-s1tV/w640-h360/Slide4.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><span style="font-size: 12pt;">But having offered
excuses for Cuba’s trash, I still found it offensive.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Cuba has a beautiful landscape that can
attract tourists and provide a pleasant environment for its residents.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The government could certainly do more such
as requiring deposits on all beverage containers and getting rid of plastic bag
use for store purchases.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">When I was in
Zimbabwe 36 years ago, I was amazed how clean the streets and highways
were.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Deposits were required on many
types of containers.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">It wasn’t so much
out of concern for the environment but a solution to scarcity of aluminum and
tin for the manufacture of containers.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">
</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">If you threw a Coke bottle out on the along a highway in Zimbabwe, you
could bet that someone would pick it up to collect the several cents
deposit.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh21dM888LuNxpFbOrwIPwBiqVIWUjPmOVmAmKpcxyTF0Rm8it3UuKYKzXAFkcXtaOw26Kh-ePbxMAJRmo2NBLLKWHY5U5fHywO9BjW5apnkGL_7Kg9dSfKQfJyepqkpfeF8MhjUkvvWbWhHDzO-WCuPRt_-MJ7KKZw9fpqfTB4AThmrk4Opz_lrzY/s1280/Slide5.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh21dM888LuNxpFbOrwIPwBiqVIWUjPmOVmAmKpcxyTF0Rm8it3UuKYKzXAFkcXtaOw26Kh-ePbxMAJRmo2NBLLKWHY5U5fHywO9BjW5apnkGL_7Kg9dSfKQfJyepqkpfeF8MhjUkvvWbWhHDzO-WCuPRt_-MJ7KKZw9fpqfTB4AThmrk4Opz_lrzY/w640-h360/Slide5.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYH4XXF8HocE32vv2Lm22DEfI6bfyNpIOoQlh8Yo4RzQSqWG8QLyRRLe9qXh9kYAMKrda3PkfZ_vI9Gd-AZ6UlwgsEQwtuRQTzmDjKei78O1Hj2A40cQ4t-Zt-CCvOdPu_Nbpw5cSqtVIfL2fA29Bsfh0gVfU-ba37Ng-2NZAiaKhbsEHuawEIeaos/s1280/Slide6.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYH4XXF8HocE32vv2Lm22DEfI6bfyNpIOoQlh8Yo4RzQSqWG8QLyRRLe9qXh9kYAMKrda3PkfZ_vI9Gd-AZ6UlwgsEQwtuRQTzmDjKei78O1Hj2A40cQ4t-Zt-CCvOdPu_Nbpw5cSqtVIfL2fA29Bsfh0gVfU-ba37Ng-2NZAiaKhbsEHuawEIeaos/w640-h360/Slide6.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;"><br /></span></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Maybe if Cuba wasn’t
in such dire economic straits, it could invest in more trash bins and hire
workers to haul off the trash. But haul
it where? Sanitary landfills with
impermeable liners to prevent groundwater pollution aren’t cheap to construct. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I would hope that
schools in Cuba are teaching children about respect for the environment.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">And this respect should include avoidance of
throwing trash in public spaces and trying to minimize use of containers that
are difficult to recycle like plastics.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzUSt63UTLlTiZorCCjOPFvZqhZhycN8ntSwJ_XhmxVjQIawVGrvjTfnipzvAyDhW-LEiDnurqwPiw4byghut28uGH8S3TTYT6kYALZZz4kvRG2nHSfqyu95aPZEY8utP4iFHO1SKeP5TAGzOZHIIEaio87WGO6HpiLZvssGrcH4HgsMQ3C5VEhY33/s1280/Slide7.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzUSt63UTLlTiZorCCjOPFvZqhZhycN8ntSwJ_XhmxVjQIawVGrvjTfnipzvAyDhW-LEiDnurqwPiw4byghut28uGH8S3TTYT6kYALZZz4kvRG2nHSfqyu95aPZEY8utP4iFHO1SKeP5TAGzOZHIIEaio87WGO6HpiLZvssGrcH4HgsMQ3C5VEhY33/w640-h360/Slide7.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I also deeply resent
the industries that produce plastic containers and the companies that make
billions in profit from the sale of beverages and other products in these
containers. Were they good corporate
citizens, they would be actively involved in eliminating plastic waste. Do mega-corporations like Coca-Cola care? Maybe so, but their lack of action doesn’t
show it. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">© Will
Mahoney 2022<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">
</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">All rights
reserved. No part of this blog post nor
any associated photo can be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or
transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical or
photocopying, recording, or otherwise without prior written permission of the
author and photographer.<o:p></o:p></p><p><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p></p>Will Mahoneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14657949510251910608noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1334639788072532472.post-84224363184664022022-12-24T10:39:00.001-08:002022-12-30T13:55:24.094-08:00Monday, 7 November 2022: My Arrival in an Old Caribbean Beach Resort<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Another big breakfast
this morning as I say goodbye to my terrific hosts at the B&B here in
Trinidad. My trusty, feisty taxi driver,
Barbara, arrives at 9:30 AM and we take off on an uneventful trip northwest to
Cienfuegos. The 2-lane highway seems in
better condition than most I’ve traveled on in Cuba. Along the way, we drive through large
stretches of forest and cross a number of rivers that flow from the <b><i>Topes
de Collantes </i></b>to the Caribbean. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu0R-GlFAPg8PijpeQRlsSMvWRPQZYjZpmIETEd5yCTVIhfMiivnviJts7ZpMq4SNtDgiNq3qDwVz4uvD6cCatski_XYC4wxg6c_tCceIWuMMuowci2Haarlo9--SDtoTNYqVKq5-Rzu6yr0IzcbP9oxvVZXmt3IElkYfH1D6wBf4Fn-P1owb8TBrG/s1280/Slide1.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu0R-GlFAPg8PijpeQRlsSMvWRPQZYjZpmIETEd5yCTVIhfMiivnviJts7ZpMq4SNtDgiNq3qDwVz4uvD6cCatski_XYC4wxg6c_tCceIWuMMuowci2Haarlo9--SDtoTNYqVKq5-Rzu6yr0IzcbP9oxvVZXmt3IElkYfH1D6wBf4Fn-P1owb8TBrG/w640-h360/Slide1.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Barbara and I get on
the subject of Cuban fruit. I ask if
it’s true that papaya is a naughty word in Cuban Spanish. Yes it is.
They call it “<b><i>fruta bomba</i></b>” (fruit bomb) because
“papaya” is also a slang word for a woman’s crotch. Barbara finds a You Tube video on her cell
phone and hands it to me. The hilarious
song with accompanying cartoons is called “<b><i>La papaya de 40 libras</i></b>” (The 40 pound
papaya) </span><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7XnDSXlmPxY"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7XnDSXlmPxY</span></a><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">
It was recorded by a Cuban group “<b><i>La Diosa</i></b>” and includes suggestive
drawings of papayas sliced lengthwise which bear a strong resemblance to female
nether regions.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">We also talk a bit
about male-female relationships. Barbara
has two grown sons and has been divorced for several years. She likes being single and sees no reason to
remarry. The main reason: she likes her work driving a cab and makes
good money. She notes that Cuban men
don’t like their wives working outside the home. Wow – I guess the revolution didn’t change
those traditional attitudes. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigBfZtNOZkx_Z2tNBkH-c4yzHyg1cWvcSx8uxxIuax-AYNXOrXDpqDn2IWPmnxGrrc28Kw4B3W45ZERqUUws-Z351yadl9c3aPwob6DydexNv0AwhONwVSalPIpK9nFEASISTQVhffwSYT1ymv0NqFW55cV4NhfYCY9KnrWOqCkbwYmQV0J7AABjNc/s1280/Slide2.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigBfZtNOZkx_Z2tNBkH-c4yzHyg1cWvcSx8uxxIuax-AYNXOrXDpqDn2IWPmnxGrrc28Kw4B3W45ZERqUUws-Z351yadl9c3aPwob6DydexNv0AwhONwVSalPIpK9nFEASISTQVhffwSYT1ymv0NqFW55cV4NhfYCY9KnrWOqCkbwYmQV0J7AABjNc/w640-h360/Slide2.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">My two-night reservation
in the city of Cienfuegos is for a <b><i>casa particular</i></b> located on a
peninsula called “<b><i>La Punta</i></b>” – The Point.
It extends south from the city into Cienfuegos Bay. As we drive south on the only street leading
to <b><i>La
Punta</i></b>, I find that it has the feel of a quiet tropical beach town in
the 1950s. My lodging is next to a small
park which includes the tip of the peninsula.
<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjvq8rCNOou4ujmrWclWu9Gs9iYpo62-4cnwASLm1TNnMBwBsZGeOpfdW32LYkGWpKDkf9JDUMzDd4fWVwpA-ET8eWegE5p9iulnvbEnjsLh7JbyZb1EhcEZJtfTC-LDfY0WzCsU-sO2zh589gkrVVrAtjTqPPSpvIXOJUbqPgdrA5TVSU-yI8W_SP/s1280/Slide3.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjvq8rCNOou4ujmrWclWu9Gs9iYpo62-4cnwASLm1TNnMBwBsZGeOpfdW32LYkGWpKDkf9JDUMzDd4fWVwpA-ET8eWegE5p9iulnvbEnjsLh7JbyZb1EhcEZJtfTC-LDfY0WzCsU-sO2zh589gkrVVrAtjTqPPSpvIXOJUbqPgdrA5TVSU-yI8W_SP/w640-h360/Slide3.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Upon our arrival
around 11:00, we are met by Silvia who is thin, attractive, and middle-aged and
her older husband. I pay Barbara and we
bid each other <b><i>adios</i></b>. Silvia takes me
up to the second floor to see my comfortable room with private bath which is
adjacent to a patio shared by one other room (there are only two guest rooms in
their home). Silvia is very
friendly. We sit for about 15 minutes on
the patio and she asks me lots of questions about my life. She seems genuinely interested in my answers. The Cubans that run these <b><i>casas
particulares</i></b> seem to enjoy their foreign guests who provide them a
window into the outside world which few of them get to experience. As usual, I have a hard time understanding
Silvia’s Spanish especially with a generator running next door. But it’s very good practice for me to tell
her about my life in Spanish. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">
</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGN9fdrx8bREymj2UWMlrl74fGbi2tRLFf1-eolRbCfZn3Ns7dcY7V8StxWwKWhsLJfa6EBdfuZXOIg4k_nklyzae13PzraIEQTfvMSobH3wdj2SvRwpG0yy1mdfr-Yfm4ya2k1yLMaIHgOKFpuAwlLpLbZam5fQSkj5iD-_lFaV6BlJABNCxdDTl-/s1280/Slide4.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGN9fdrx8bREymj2UWMlrl74fGbi2tRLFf1-eolRbCfZn3Ns7dcY7V8StxWwKWhsLJfa6EBdfuZXOIg4k_nklyzae13PzraIEQTfvMSobH3wdj2SvRwpG0yy1mdfr-Yfm4ya2k1yLMaIHgOKFpuAwlLpLbZam5fQSkj5iD-_lFaV6BlJABNCxdDTl-/w640-h360/Slide4.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The power is off when
I arrive but goes back on at noon. There
is an open-air restaurant next door where I have lunch. It looks out over the bay and there is a
pleasant breeze coming off the water. I
have an eggplant appetizer which is delicious but tiny followed by a bowl of
bean soup. With tea and tip, the bill
comes to $13.50. That’s very steep for
Cuba, at least in comparison with the restaurants I’ve been eating in. I suppose I’m paying for the atmosphere.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I walk back up the
main street toward the city. I pass
several beautiful old Caribbean-style homes.
This is definitely an up-scale neighborhood for Cuba although my B&B
is very reasonable ($40 per night) given the location. Across the bay to the northwest, I see an oil
terminal and refinery. The sun sets on
my way back to my accommodation providing some nice photo opportunities. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY_k5o_xGpVlyvwqsrzg3PHs6JziW5HBjvqe8aH4v5wpGtDEDmEC-qdlkRUEijS7wVo2KSgOTVoI1WlJumNOMzUL4IOU4C6XI-cmz_SPvbN0rE4Ikys-itktvZHFzJmeMp8v0LvUV0IggsLMh1n4MTNodQymCr6RVrLM7cZ2iMMzR979bUXp85Z63h/s1280/Slide5.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY_k5o_xGpVlyvwqsrzg3PHs6JziW5HBjvqe8aH4v5wpGtDEDmEC-qdlkRUEijS7wVo2KSgOTVoI1WlJumNOMzUL4IOU4C6XI-cmz_SPvbN0rE4Ikys-itktvZHFzJmeMp8v0LvUV0IggsLMh1n4MTNodQymCr6RVrLM7cZ2iMMzR979bUXp85Z63h/w640-h360/Slide5.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTH8BtKSlauNvxfGNw6CN8v3G8MHOxBPCP52x9jm4EFvmnmfqSAHeN0cbaMVV4o6wBmlCTh6ngkZrr8_1zptwvDWRxT8X0F4iHdakMoep67BJFO3OyCIoQGvNI-x8cl7xvHQok3Evwi6s1N7IMBLpEbIpCBRpYQUp9JhHceyMXWqKuuqNpxq9rwIO7/s1280/Slide6.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTH8BtKSlauNvxfGNw6CN8v3G8MHOxBPCP52x9jm4EFvmnmfqSAHeN0cbaMVV4o6wBmlCTh6ngkZrr8_1zptwvDWRxT8X0F4iHdakMoep67BJFO3OyCIoQGvNI-x8cl7xvHQok3Evwi6s1N7IMBLpEbIpCBRpYQUp9JhHceyMXWqKuuqNpxq9rwIO7/w640-h360/Slide6.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">There is wifi in my <b><i>casa
particular</i></b> but, of course, it doesn’t work when the power is off. When I get back after my walk, it’s out
again. Pisses me off because I want to
get some updated information about a tropical storm which is predicted to turn
into a hurricane. It may hit south
Florida just before my scheduled arrival in Fort Lauderdale in three days. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-tLxT8FBbcKyw58tyMLbhb0Q34SHoMXnrGbsOdfnG9VQtWt-wXhKuhciea4dUiqmZI1RGe9GX1R6i87JXQDVy4JWay8h7xrW44I1KaqANom6yvUgx5BSqtmWsidR-S7p7-2x728lhAx4OetfpmDZi8wt1nYWPl0lQT95X52at0E4NFrrtmsSn7iXf/s1280/Slide7.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-tLxT8FBbcKyw58tyMLbhb0Q34SHoMXnrGbsOdfnG9VQtWt-wXhKuhciea4dUiqmZI1RGe9GX1R6i87JXQDVy4JWay8h7xrW44I1KaqANom6yvUgx5BSqtmWsidR-S7p7-2x728lhAx4OetfpmDZi8wt1nYWPl0lQT95X52at0E4NFrrtmsSn7iXf/w640-h360/Slide7.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">There is a second
restaurant next door to my lodging.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">It’s
also overpriced but the food is good and different from what I’ve been able to
find in Cuba.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I have an okra dish in
tomato sauce with rice.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">After dinner,
the power is back on but wifi problems minimize the time I’m able to use the
internet with my cell phone.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I do learn
that tropical storm Nicole is still heading toward Florida.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZW0KM9y3-TWSZQtNUb-IxnyT1WJKQGeko0uk-iJd23et2PD0HW_0xK2V4sdqxQszvbPlltMQpR7DefhntwGEtru_JMsdzYY9vcm5T3GVvyc_GfRqyZJzSzrmEtxsGHSGBEvOAWUTd1hf0C7bTj1LHPfqwn7Dj6AgK_oSQGeLoF4KHrDSobsY3uv_e/s1280/Slide8.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZW0KM9y3-TWSZQtNUb-IxnyT1WJKQGeko0uk-iJd23et2PD0HW_0xK2V4sdqxQszvbPlltMQpR7DefhntwGEtru_JMsdzYY9vcm5T3GVvyc_GfRqyZJzSzrmEtxsGHSGBEvOAWUTd1hf0C7bTj1LHPfqwn7Dj6AgK_oSQGeLoF4KHrDSobsY3uv_e/w640-h360/Slide8.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgfucy8a5Y5jCXLFs6w8Usw6ilfRhLjxUEc2uH-SQvgy7PVtRK7vpy1LM8HTBoMOFyBLaok_qVMMMRRH2k7a9aOcTvgKYAfBIRj-55cUTR9TlQqaOQ4ht8XuyXE1V6Un6ZmrPYwk3pZW5LMrHT3VTeZHYJ-uS9XDXS9sXZj-I2qBIe7OMVq4JhK4w-/s1280/Slide9.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgfucy8a5Y5jCXLFs6w8Usw6ilfRhLjxUEc2uH-SQvgy7PVtRK7vpy1LM8HTBoMOFyBLaok_qVMMMRRH2k7a9aOcTvgKYAfBIRj-55cUTR9TlQqaOQ4ht8XuyXE1V6Un6ZmrPYwk3pZW5LMrHT3VTeZHYJ-uS9XDXS9sXZj-I2qBIe7OMVq4JhK4w-/w640-h360/Slide9.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">© Will
Mahoney 2022<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">All rights
reserved. No part of this blog post nor
any associated photo can be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or
transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical or
photocopying, recording, or otherwise without prior written permission of the
author and photographer.<o:p></o:p></p></div><p><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;"><br /> </span> </p>Will Mahoneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14657949510251910608noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1334639788072532472.post-10800268441791319382022-12-23T15:27:00.001-08:002022-12-30T13:55:48.668-08:00Outdoor Art and Propaganda of Cuba<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I was pleasantly
surprised to see some street art in Cuba (mostly in Havana) that I thought was
pretty good. There was a small amount of
graffiti at construction sites or defacing buildings but most of what I saw
appeared to have been well-planned and likely sanctioned by the authorities. I did not see any street art that was a direct
challenge to the Communist government. Following
are some examples:<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYAzVaxVtpDLqaQDhYWMZQLTb6x-aVLcop2WYu1PauLpo7l7e5XZoEiY0vH5ZYV8eV9n65o9QQXewbyXpHjBl5TL89Cs_AlMzCE4K7VOfLw4Mcx-dUjVx8Vtve8X1HsT7OnUN0TsPkIxqVmTc9vpiQuJRNxXdepz5nmhl__ZDl3C0SCjX-_oV9wIyI/s1280/Slide1.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYAzVaxVtpDLqaQDhYWMZQLTb6x-aVLcop2WYu1PauLpo7l7e5XZoEiY0vH5ZYV8eV9n65o9QQXewbyXpHjBl5TL89Cs_AlMzCE4K7VOfLw4Mcx-dUjVx8Vtve8X1HsT7OnUN0TsPkIxqVmTc9vpiQuJRNxXdepz5nmhl__ZDl3C0SCjX-_oV9wIyI/w640-h360/Slide1.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWXb7podR6_TuMkVufEOjxgJiPkazmw-lcoKku7ONaC7UcevQ_jZwdlBiv64rjUE_utPipU-DxvaNtKaDhXCucFaKj2XiRaxeu8VXocWgb08ojbdxVzMdBz0XHAqbf2vOMGs3eFSPWaSeRJSkqVjNIjOA7i0FgoR_KMyELBtp7ENn6hbTlHOSSdn9G/s1280/Slide2.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWXb7podR6_TuMkVufEOjxgJiPkazmw-lcoKku7ONaC7UcevQ_jZwdlBiv64rjUE_utPipU-DxvaNtKaDhXCucFaKj2XiRaxeu8VXocWgb08ojbdxVzMdBz0XHAqbf2vOMGs3eFSPWaSeRJSkqVjNIjOA7i0FgoR_KMyELBtp7ENn6hbTlHOSSdn9G/w640-h360/Slide2.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKPEKN9D4r3Xbe56SH-ixXnMDhnkR2hNV4b1Pa2LGklasQ9Sw5XkIZ48IrW0zLwJlz7hL2-eViChyvfngAUpmrZXAAhamtWeygTJQAL9fAO-elTCW1BFqodRvbOUpPmxER_OABrZWqgZvFYWOr7pbZHPP4cmJS5M2oI4ipKeilTSeTO0Hwh-DKZ1Db/s1280/Slide3.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKPEKN9D4r3Xbe56SH-ixXnMDhnkR2hNV4b1Pa2LGklasQ9Sw5XkIZ48IrW0zLwJlz7hL2-eViChyvfngAUpmrZXAAhamtWeygTJQAL9fAO-elTCW1BFqodRvbOUpPmxER_OABrZWqgZvFYWOr7pbZHPP4cmJS5M2oI4ipKeilTSeTO0Hwh-DKZ1Db/w640-h360/Slide3.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-7baonpaw_TUMHqRy9R-rJMmGmvE7Xbtg1KM0kX_Iyhyq0flweOjm8FO9npfrQZCP90I394h_wJjwTsJL68DmzzY7HXwQIIiyMl0s465IX3MFdX9p2HIdZ9N5NaGVCLcdWQ2O8QthQe5m0lehoxS1T8j702YepCScTn9ZS76YLFyXL-sOMxN8z4aq/s1280/Slide4.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-7baonpaw_TUMHqRy9R-rJMmGmvE7Xbtg1KM0kX_Iyhyq0flweOjm8FO9npfrQZCP90I394h_wJjwTsJL68DmzzY7HXwQIIiyMl0s465IX3MFdX9p2HIdZ9N5NaGVCLcdWQ2O8QthQe5m0lehoxS1T8j702YepCScTn9ZS76YLFyXL-sOMxN8z4aq/w640-h360/Slide4.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfBIaL9Us5keLLGOxk4QzzSaD1D687bo-I48sNQFUtOkwUkUBN_PWhejvURK2pCeIbeQO6ccIg69R_84BFixx8-gMdVNX7iLVmmS7W1dMALhzbFSDjD3OMpqOmi3dfOysF5BzT0AW4n0wg4NzvpwO9lJG__INSAZtf-5pGyX9qA_n93NLAFFRYs89g/s1280/Slide5.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfBIaL9Us5keLLGOxk4QzzSaD1D687bo-I48sNQFUtOkwUkUBN_PWhejvURK2pCeIbeQO6ccIg69R_84BFixx8-gMdVNX7iLVmmS7W1dMALhzbFSDjD3OMpqOmi3dfOysF5BzT0AW4n0wg4NzvpwO9lJG__INSAZtf-5pGyX9qA_n93NLAFFRYs89g/w640-h360/Slide5.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWqhNT95TraGMn-U68J6T4BSjV8bzOYvyYoM12QJW1ZrtOQp8-W2a1RnsBvbHgnJmGs6N9nQ8K4MOZhxc2uLFLEr64IjjsTMbgp8HabnMlNvzeiqiIGmj3f-mnyBFukd-04h4-Z9iWUZyS9xCpqX2F2CGeagnwuIXcV9HKLdFzGCjCeotY_5Cxtbr_/s1280/Slide6.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWqhNT95TraGMn-U68J6T4BSjV8bzOYvyYoM12QJW1ZrtOQp8-W2a1RnsBvbHgnJmGs6N9nQ8K4MOZhxc2uLFLEr64IjjsTMbgp8HabnMlNvzeiqiIGmj3f-mnyBFukd-04h4-Z9iWUZyS9xCpqX2F2CGeagnwuIXcV9HKLdFzGCjCeotY_5Cxtbr_/w640-h360/Slide6.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6FE3XiYz8Wh3zl4Zt0qWaK6ZCwdbr9sb9gS3ZjU0A2uwVL6yWibHNq6f6oeo6sltcPMc_1YRrz9gZ3rEpIX6lMVniYZh4O5HyxkAvsGPGkXtZkDoSWVb32ZIbkiLVjAB5nfCV1O-PVwzZ3ltvaPhyFdjInAdvN_hvt-7vftMdcID1CnCyvpyzaaTk/s1280/Slide7.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6FE3XiYz8Wh3zl4Zt0qWaK6ZCwdbr9sb9gS3ZjU0A2uwVL6yWibHNq6f6oeo6sltcPMc_1YRrz9gZ3rEpIX6lMVniYZh4O5HyxkAvsGPGkXtZkDoSWVb32ZIbkiLVjAB5nfCV1O-PVwzZ3ltvaPhyFdjInAdvN_hvt-7vftMdcID1CnCyvpyzaaTk/w640-h360/Slide7.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiiE1HseKweY-jblTsZ06WPiMYZbz5BGl9COKZhXY8v8RIuaF215POgAKnPLW5X9Opbt9ZKMmmnluQmSi73XTuqxIpmJmwamapR1p_A4U5MIz07UVZE_o4iYhVx3TLdsKJqYq_cDoNSDSGF6ocVOoGze1W1nXfaxM6wSfGvkfWy1fQdw7PjvSkGlmn/s1280/Slide8.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiiE1HseKweY-jblTsZ06WPiMYZbz5BGl9COKZhXY8v8RIuaF215POgAKnPLW5X9Opbt9ZKMmmnluQmSi73XTuqxIpmJmwamapR1p_A4U5MIz07UVZE_o4iYhVx3TLdsKJqYq_cDoNSDSGF6ocVOoGze1W1nXfaxM6wSfGvkfWy1fQdw7PjvSkGlmn/w640-h360/Slide8.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I suppose that propaganda
on billboards, signs, and posters could also be classed as art. It is meant to appeal to the viewer and evoke
a response. But it is also meant to unify
the citizenry around the values that the rulers would like them to adopt. Actually, there was less public propaganda in
Cuba than I might have expected. Perhaps
this reflects a less ideologically-based Cuba than I would have found had I
visited 50 years ago. It also seems like
the government keeps public propaganda out of the tourist areas like Old Havana
and Trinidad. I suspect they realize
that most tourists find such stuff a joke and a sign that Cuba is still stuck
in its old ways. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxSDWQCUM_OmUxhfd0zKp8c_AsUeenZlE-HVkutCIbJRQXNXr-u9Fyv4hqtu79IVL-RaEGhSz7mgQZ1ld0jMNk6_559H6auI7-LvhdI0h-4bp2aTIs6uQmB0WNRMODj8n0F1Ii5yU82r1vuoyb2hI0hr6a_NxeOYH9tAJIfAmaHnlgLM8nDqYm3bNW/s1280/Slide9.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxSDWQCUM_OmUxhfd0zKp8c_AsUeenZlE-HVkutCIbJRQXNXr-u9Fyv4hqtu79IVL-RaEGhSz7mgQZ1ld0jMNk6_559H6auI7-LvhdI0h-4bp2aTIs6uQmB0WNRMODj8n0F1Ii5yU82r1vuoyb2hI0hr6a_NxeOYH9tAJIfAmaHnlgLM8nDqYm3bNW/w640-h360/Slide9.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Here is a translation:<o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><b><i><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">REVOLUTION is a sense of
the historical moment; to change everything that must be changed;<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><b><i><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">it is equality and full
freedom; to be treated and treat others as human beings;<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><b><i><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">to emancipate ourselves
and with our own efforts;<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><b><i><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">to challenge powerful
dominant forces inside and outside the social and national sphere;<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><b><i><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">to defend values in
which one believes at the price of any sacrifice; <o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><b><i><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">it is modesty, selflessness,
altruism, solidarity and heroism; <o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><b><i><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">it is to fight with
audacity, intelligence and realism;<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><b><i><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">never lying or
violating ethical principles; <o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><b><i><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">and the deep conviction
that there is no force in the world capable of crushing the force of truth and
ideas.<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><b><i><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">REVOLUTION is unity,
independence; <o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><b><i><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">it is fighting for our
dreams of justice for Cuba and for the world, which is the basis of our
patriotism, our socialism and our internationalism.<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><b><i><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></i></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><b><i></i></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj6xPocZceVQt5b-ISPNYVNnSO4Hyfa9vdJna-AvCS1-hpiKA2aA4f318AEuTmWvSbGE9I85CyoyDzNXJdjtOl35ZxIH4kqiOXLpHfNK2EPl3iGae7xhLY1VRROOvdqLW0R71r90CHOMt5qm3oNxtu8cdYVABqMe1oK5mmqbi3MRXoXyjc5P_XFD5Z/s1280/Slide10.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj6xPocZceVQt5b-ISPNYVNnSO4Hyfa9vdJna-AvCS1-hpiKA2aA4f318AEuTmWvSbGE9I85CyoyDzNXJdjtOl35ZxIH4kqiOXLpHfNK2EPl3iGae7xhLY1VRROOvdqLW0R71r90CHOMt5qm3oNxtu8cdYVABqMe1oK5mmqbi3MRXoXyjc5P_XFD5Z/w640-h360/Slide10.JPG" width="640" /></a></i></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><i><br /></i></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE4ZTud0DzI2AqV2cie050QICSN9FQtaVwfexb5yulJusgP1P6K8OWjjyDzx2LooEauE10XhujX5tis_A7PvOk8n4SA0GW4nd9Srh6YX-EQ8A_EysyTPFutLpx9ks6pV1dygG-OfPtoB57jwnSfDvl5xtMlYcdhQftcRVFYjmYIOiiikkY6rrVOQjZ/s1280/Slide11.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE4ZTud0DzI2AqV2cie050QICSN9FQtaVwfexb5yulJusgP1P6K8OWjjyDzx2LooEauE10XhujX5tis_A7PvOk8n4SA0GW4nd9Srh6YX-EQ8A_EysyTPFutLpx9ks6pV1dygG-OfPtoB57jwnSfDvl5xtMlYcdhQftcRVFYjmYIOiiikkY6rrVOQjZ/w640-h360/Slide11.JPG" width="640" /></a></i></b></div><b><i><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwUFFfHtEIwHqElxiWcDo-5QedMvqhOs8yCSMQG1-Ef7rQmC1JBPKpPfPXRxqHaaQjrmUzODtxJvkB6E8cfLuNWG6jNOU1gYXj2EIK1f1TOPYTlohbFfSVa8yNiVqHMcIIyMihnuldWyq5bDXfHDivqNrLOXaQZtAV6v4bSNAQ6WC2YO5DSPE_Vi9n/s1280/Slide12.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwUFFfHtEIwHqElxiWcDo-5QedMvqhOs8yCSMQG1-Ef7rQmC1JBPKpPfPXRxqHaaQjrmUzODtxJvkB6E8cfLuNWG6jNOU1gYXj2EIK1f1TOPYTlohbFfSVa8yNiVqHMcIIyMihnuldWyq5bDXfHDivqNrLOXaQZtAV6v4bSNAQ6WC2YO5DSPE_Vi9n/w640-h360/Slide12.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrz_V9lI4JtTLFwIbNV1ubwxSZFWwy8j3z80hqsK5Gk6RWzcRzGS1dHwN8yHCk0syAzZjberlmh21lEWv8OA3YfhNTYysTnFdbtLGGDQ0YfW7o3Gli7D8SjiCWgkNkGsPpWgQg73m1m-kZessDUY-EfVmCyPMd3JiVOCX060fY3Udnt2M5N9QPtH4e/s1280/Slide13.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrz_V9lI4JtTLFwIbNV1ubwxSZFWwy8j3z80hqsK5Gk6RWzcRzGS1dHwN8yHCk0syAzZjberlmh21lEWv8OA3YfhNTYysTnFdbtLGGDQ0YfW7o3Gli7D8SjiCWgkNkGsPpWgQg73m1m-kZessDUY-EfVmCyPMd3JiVOCX060fY3Udnt2M5N9QPtH4e/w640-h360/Slide13.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><b><i><br /></i></b></p><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN6Nk5qT2c5JSNlRel5e3Q4xDfYRO94Sy1Ld0WyNk0zJ1j0J5GoQ1Rc-rbgUiUE5iIlJZ9TP-Tip8bsmjOx2PTWRalzCgknuOQMPRpSjrzFBtJ6X7FEkMsxeaRCipjouoSq95mjdF8r3RZ5QPiSvB9tx_7Wbclv7VcUwy1z3Q-si0K-c3y68LGBWk8/s1280/Slide14.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN6Nk5qT2c5JSNlRel5e3Q4xDfYRO94Sy1Ld0WyNk0zJ1j0J5GoQ1Rc-rbgUiUE5iIlJZ9TP-Tip8bsmjOx2PTWRalzCgknuOQMPRpSjrzFBtJ6X7FEkMsxeaRCipjouoSq95mjdF8r3RZ5QPiSvB9tx_7Wbclv7VcUwy1z3Q-si0K-c3y68LGBWk8/w640-h360/Slide14.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><b><i><br /></i></b></p><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcv5oL7MPpgYIUXHKTJBMQ9n4vq-CH0wIHQyAP9cl5ZmhfjHEHXV53CfRjUdzsWe5fqIi8c5yn9bW9wdeoSn8rsn2B12WowGd2WsYmSK9PEmFukb0sqtzfY05DxuNieYUNO7QUl4GJl8Y_SYycJrhnf8l1JtHrvyazG_eH7qGp-QcZr7ESYPZwh8YN/s1280/Slide15.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcv5oL7MPpgYIUXHKTJBMQ9n4vq-CH0wIHQyAP9cl5ZmhfjHEHXV53CfRjUdzsWe5fqIi8c5yn9bW9wdeoSn8rsn2B12WowGd2WsYmSK9PEmFukb0sqtzfY05DxuNieYUNO7QUl4GJl8Y_SYycJrhnf8l1JtHrvyazG_eH7qGp-QcZr7ESYPZwh8YN/w640-h360/Slide15.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></i></b><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">© Will
Mahoney 2022<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">
</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">All rights
reserved. No part of this blog post nor
any associated photo can be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or
transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical or
photocopying, recording, or otherwise without prior written permission of the
author and photographer.<o:p></o:p></p> <p></p>Will Mahoneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14657949510251910608noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1334639788072532472.post-47179781715146263622022-12-22T18:58:00.001-08:002022-12-30T13:56:07.163-08:00Sunday, 6 November 2022: Views of Historic Trinidad<p><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;">I get up at 7:00 AM,
only now it’s 6:00 because of the time change.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;">
</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;">I munch on a cold, leftover pizza slice and cheese balls.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;">Around 7:40, I head up </span><b style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;"><i>Calle Simon Bolivar</i></b><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;"> and
through the </span><b style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;"><i>Plaza Mayor</i></b><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;">, continuing northeast.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;">I pass through some rather seedy
neighborhoods as the streets gain elevation passing the </span><b style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;"><i>Discoteca Ayala</i></b><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;"> which is
located underground in a cave. </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;">The
street turns to a rough road which climbs the hillside toward the
telecommunications tower at the top of</span><b style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;"><i> Cerro de Vigia </i></b><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;">(“lookout
hill”).</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;">Along the way, I enjoy nice
views looking down on the city and the cool morning air.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;"> </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJmC21jMv_vwbpZ5F3esEXme4-nT6uUu2M-h1x6Sj12hYfMX-FfKjeJDlqm32zdVe_VAzchusgeeDH4fOSBX4z5i3Jh6swwbkxCIuXyETuCcjKt2yg6apGhsMOvzg1hbZGTHB64_E1VZVoLAhZSV-sw0Z8qJE31mqHwDvmY0WnSX-yNsql1Ik798kl/s1280/Slide1.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJmC21jMv_vwbpZ5F3esEXme4-nT6uUu2M-h1x6Sj12hYfMX-FfKjeJDlqm32zdVe_VAzchusgeeDH4fOSBX4z5i3Jh6swwbkxCIuXyETuCcjKt2yg6apGhsMOvzg1hbZGTHB64_E1VZVoLAhZSV-sw0Z8qJE31mqHwDvmY0WnSX-yNsql1Ik798kl/w640-h360/Slide1.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7fv7rFLkA8QQdE_KAWybyitvk2HEFyzWCU3ll2plLyspRJshcHsWWOkjE-u01ln1rrgMgQcHLaUH4so4b3iNjS6o-ntdBpT7FA2AQSAboGifuFFnqDIHQe5gIYFkOxfArdTP5tKBSL8ZZdRh3Z0RcFFO6UmCrsDyv-XfRyFhehDrnzfEMjtOrBxJC/s1280/Slide2.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7fv7rFLkA8QQdE_KAWybyitvk2HEFyzWCU3ll2plLyspRJshcHsWWOkjE-u01ln1rrgMgQcHLaUH4so4b3iNjS6o-ntdBpT7FA2AQSAboGifuFFnqDIHQe5gIYFkOxfArdTP5tKBSL8ZZdRh3Z0RcFFO6UmCrsDyv-XfRyFhehDrnzfEMjtOrBxJC/w640-h360/Slide2.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The tower is
surrounded by a fence so I steer clear of it but a man motions to me to come
over to the tower area.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He says I can
come in through the gate – there is a <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">mirador</i></b> (view point).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The only stipulation is that I can’t take
photos of the tower or associated equipment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He is a very friendly, older chap named Carlos.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He shows me a ladder I can climb to get to
the roof of a building.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The views up
there are terrific:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>southwest toward
Trinidad with the Caribbean coast in the distance; north toward the mountainous<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">
Topes de Collantes</i></b>; and northeast toward the <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Valle de los Ingenios</i></b>
which I visited yesterday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTC-D96CyWN3Qr8oPR79Exz9bcIwkGYUyMnQJTggaDQJgghT1pFTuzbUsN-JOaIYs-mvhRGvJzWlKIeO2gJ9BHJioE0RDjJQ9UlgAA_XOaFrs66Oh_ACaRqMu1EvaXIiXEToMEEYaHDt-bmwnPc2PUuYMM5ej6h_6uFmdkLhGmn6oz-m0E0I2l2tKy/s1280/Slide3.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTC-D96CyWN3Qr8oPR79Exz9bcIwkGYUyMnQJTggaDQJgghT1pFTuzbUsN-JOaIYs-mvhRGvJzWlKIeO2gJ9BHJioE0RDjJQ9UlgAA_XOaFrs66Oh_ACaRqMu1EvaXIiXEToMEEYaHDt-bmwnPc2PUuYMM5ej6h_6uFmdkLhGmn6oz-m0E0I2l2tKy/w640-h360/Slide3.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Carlos tells me there
were 13,000 male slaves working in the Valle de los Ingenios in the 19</span><sup>th</sup><span style="font-size: 12pt;">
Century.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">He points out various landmarks
from the rooftop </span><b style="font-size: 12pt;"><i>mirador</i></b><span style="font-size: 12pt;">.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">After climbing
back down the ladder, I thank Carlos for his help and hand him some pesos as a </span><b style="font-size: 12pt;"><i>regalo</i></b><span style="font-size: 12pt;">
(gift).</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">He appreciates getting gifts
from tourists to supplement his meager salary.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">
</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Carlos works 24-hour shifts at the tower.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">He arrived at 8:00 this morning and will
leave at 8:00 AM tomorrow.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">He runs the
entire facility while he’s here including dealing with the power
blackouts.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I’m guessing that Carlos has
an engineering degree or other technical training and is now working for
peanuts.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDm59nzvq4BZz_zhwhPt615iJ6p5MBhSzrdhpxNbmQ1u6YjWcvbQjUqjbeoTCyArJH_Xj-NWF3agTmP7ltO1PbHUjNmUBjgjaDnWYjIRKXB99-O6P_La_7cBd6G3FXZSZerwJnqySaJcBIPlcI8SUPgEx0t_uXxR5a4llD94uvedmCZjAfYhBpjN9d/s1280/Slide4.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDm59nzvq4BZz_zhwhPt615iJ6p5MBhSzrdhpxNbmQ1u6YjWcvbQjUqjbeoTCyArJH_Xj-NWF3agTmP7ltO1PbHUjNmUBjgjaDnWYjIRKXB99-O6P_La_7cBd6G3FXZSZerwJnqySaJcBIPlcI8SUPgEx0t_uXxR5a4llD94uvedmCZjAfYhBpjN9d/w640-h360/Slide4.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Carlos offers me a
slice of<b><i> guanabana</i></b>, a large fruit that grows on a tree here at the
tower. I find it pulpy and messy but
tasty. He tells me that under the
Batista dictatorship his family had a small, prosperous farm but lost it all
after the revolution. I’m reminded that
decent middle class people got screwed by Castro along with the rich, powerful,
and corrupt who deserved to get screwed.
The Cuban story is not as simple as those on the left (or on the right,
for that matter) want us to believe – it never is, is it?<o:p></o:p></span></p><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;"></span><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyH8rpLICkNxGmapLPApTnhJuyJm4-tJt8IyN3CDK_OH1cwK4cD0uX4FzpL9s71Ggs9Uad0wu51PwV9VC42vqMw7niuOzm8IqC4uxQAqguz-VXmrWLkYgIgkMFYrDDkAn40fo3UDTjxe5LkSClnj7vbr0TTivLFmw06InsDfHDO92PBh-Q7RCGNplZ/s1280/Slide5.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyH8rpLICkNxGmapLPApTnhJuyJm4-tJt8IyN3CDK_OH1cwK4cD0uX4FzpL9s71Ggs9Uad0wu51PwV9VC42vqMw7niuOzm8IqC4uxQAqguz-VXmrWLkYgIgkMFYrDDkAn40fo3UDTjxe5LkSClnj7vbr0TTivLFmw06InsDfHDO92PBh-Q7RCGNplZ/w640-h360/Slide5.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I head back down
toward Trinidad and follow a different route once I get to the edge of
town. Along the way, I walk through an
open market area. There are various
venders with the usual tourist stuff such as license plates with colorful drawings
of classic cars identifying their name and year. I see a “Che beret”. Do I really need it? It’s probably overpriced like the cap I
bought in Havana. The seller wants me to
try it on. It fits and has a draw string
to adjust its size. The price? 600 pesos.
Might as well – that’s only $4.00.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVBC6rmS6N_a5wJ93yrZ5GEzq7pyW2RZf_xrmGPRSiSg75jSeOpCGxoPidX0sLXXq25SBcqOlRauWOy3vm5F3mz_Z4imD0tvnt7gyYLssU2fp4eJkxN_xrzT2BMDUCwgZ62A5FYnU2Fi6F5R966b7M1DSQx85NCT3JJTtHpo2Rs_m_X0es2nsrGPzw/s1280/Slide6.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVBC6rmS6N_a5wJ93yrZ5GEzq7pyW2RZf_xrmGPRSiSg75jSeOpCGxoPidX0sLXXq25SBcqOlRauWOy3vm5F3mz_Z4imD0tvnt7gyYLssU2fp4eJkxN_xrzT2BMDUCwgZ62A5FYnU2Fi6F5R966b7M1DSQx85NCT3JJTtHpo2Rs_m_X0es2nsrGPzw/w640-h360/Slide6.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I arrive back to my
room and finally catch up on these notes after a couple hours of writing.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The power goes off at 2:00PM.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I had wanted to visit museums and churches
this afternoon but had forgotten that the power might go out.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I tried one museum and it was closed.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I couldn’t even use wifi anywhere.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdLlSxeOjzTEQ-NwPz2t-y2r9DQtwnlMOpqgrxBH0wYspKcAJRlv2jgzeztI8FfpbDy5sqU2xEgQnZUv-zYvst9lolw2JoxXS4XX1gdI4YEcLjK4p7mx4kNWLHKGqGSBJK5S7j9hXkO5tWjrhKeMQJTEUP-Y0TAoP9dfREN3Zq2cM5AMDawDy-lrC7/s1280/Slide7.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdLlSxeOjzTEQ-NwPz2t-y2r9DQtwnlMOpqgrxBH0wYspKcAJRlv2jgzeztI8FfpbDy5sqU2xEgQnZUv-zYvst9lolw2JoxXS4XX1gdI4YEcLjK4p7mx4kNWLHKGqGSBJK5S7j9hXkO5tWjrhKeMQJTEUP-Y0TAoP9dfREN3Zq2cM5AMDawDy-lrC7/w640-h360/Slide7.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghQYUigdmkNoccPNu8TIL3i2xV6kuOTblhXvUbf2p1sZ7srm17MXwyB7luIHpWBe0tH6wrc8dJ5DOZHWVCSEG0F5fi2SLqJApecsGQLnGozSMf_PAsp6dlzLRJNTzswJbONtF8nnKduf0aiTWeMERykcXJF2s7pWSPC0ubMV4JrmbD9bmXkd9UaiYK/s1280/Slide8.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghQYUigdmkNoccPNu8TIL3i2xV6kuOTblhXvUbf2p1sZ7srm17MXwyB7luIHpWBe0tH6wrc8dJ5DOZHWVCSEG0F5fi2SLqJApecsGQLnGozSMf_PAsp6dlzLRJNTzswJbONtF8nnKduf0aiTWeMERykcXJF2s7pWSPC0ubMV4JrmbD9bmXkd9UaiYK/w640-h360/Slide8.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I head back to the
Café Muñoz mid-afternoon where they fix me a plate of beans and rice with a
side of fresh tomatoes. The wait staff
and I have another pleasant conversation.
After lunch, I take a walk to get some last photos of the city then
return to my room to read a book I’ve just bought about the U.S. mafia in
Havana prior to the revolution. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2qN8Y4xviM1td08qzq96GOLK2qD_TmprWkWrV2QdfFrSXTzv6jK3GH6CfvPAV8-9SBU4RPRi-xBctiqq6iHT0rubb4S5DvD5wJx1szZRKhafXeOSWxNausuxg7_vQVl-CrU17xBWCdM69Guc9aLnDSNJRPx_Z9JXLxyI-nXiwk_uC0gcHorc91Fdg/s1280/Slide9.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2qN8Y4xviM1td08qzq96GOLK2qD_TmprWkWrV2QdfFrSXTzv6jK3GH6CfvPAV8-9SBU4RPRi-xBctiqq6iHT0rubb4S5DvD5wJx1szZRKhafXeOSWxNausuxg7_vQVl-CrU17xBWCdM69Guc9aLnDSNJRPx_Z9JXLxyI-nXiwk_uC0gcHorc91Fdg/w640-h360/Slide9.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">After the power comes
back on at 7:30 PM, I walk over to the Café Jazz to dig some cool sounds.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The waiter gives me a seat right in front of
the bandstand and brings me a bowl of gazpacho (very good).</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">A combo gets cooking after 8:00 – the keyboard
and bass players are very talented.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirYGvvyk5Th44Xt-AFIDkx980BFA6EEbHkOAN22JRmqqhvMCFwduN2O6-ngje1LVDq29vwj-bdpVvwnU8jFTvrEio7S2jGybuxj2JF9sknpvw36OJrKvgA2DkuV5nRIJYzgjygFZiQrNu61ANoBi9ZH-V10dIHCHnK7Rmbu46-pc93HV6eX3Om_K5x/s1280/Slide10.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirYGvvyk5Th44Xt-AFIDkx980BFA6EEbHkOAN22JRmqqhvMCFwduN2O6-ngje1LVDq29vwj-bdpVvwnU8jFTvrEio7S2jGybuxj2JF9sknpvw36OJrKvgA2DkuV5nRIJYzgjygFZiQrNu61ANoBi9ZH-V10dIHCHnK7Rmbu46-pc93HV6eX3Om_K5x/w640-h360/Slide10.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span><span style="text-align: left;">© Will
Mahoney 2022</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">All rights
reserved. No part of this blog post nor
any associated photo can be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or
transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical or
photocopying, recording, or otherwise without prior written permission of the
author and photographer.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>Will Mahoneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14657949510251910608noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1334639788072532472.post-85319738910516528402022-12-21T19:42:00.003-08:002022-12-30T13:56:28.609-08:00Saturday, 5 November 2022: Visit to an Historic Center of Cuban Sugar & Slavery<p><span style="text-align: justify;">Pedro Junior fixes me a large breakfast here at my </span><b style="text-align: justify;"><i>casa
particular</i></b><span style="text-align: justify;">.</span><span style="text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="text-align: justify;">It’s one of the best
ones I’ve had so far:</span><span style="text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="text-align: justify;">omelet with tomato
and white cheese, bread, honey, raisin cake, fruit plate, fruit juice, and
tea.</span><span style="text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="text-align: justify;">Barbara picks me up at 9:00.</span><span style="text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="text-align: justify;">We drive east in the direction of Sancti
Spíritus about 10 miles then turn north to </span><b style="text-align: justify;"><i>El Valle de Los Ingenios</i></b><span style="text-align: justify;">, a
picturesque agricultural valley known for sugar cultivation and processing
since the 1700s.</span><span style="text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="text-align: justify;">I had wanted to take
the old train from Trinidad through the valley but Barbara told me yesterday
that it is no longer running.</span><span style="text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="text-align: justify;">The
government is unable to get replacement parts for the broken-down locomotives
(or they haven’t tried very hard).</span><span style="text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="text-align: justify;">One
more attraction touted by the latest Lonely Planet guidebook which is no longer
available.</span><span style="text-align: justify;"> </span></p><p><span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd9lGB1TENw3RGssXSn6XrZdgKULs4RKpJZrj1rtLL5jLvhR2SKj1tzijobanUY1nPuhAWpb3SbxXT_FzYyVGR6LR-9CxqCvKRsBwXs_yz-6ZUaswZOjT6MPipXBq8zU3bBXo__vq_GZ3YUMQcSmZH8lGFb013lKaoid0AWiQnpntMVERwhAQiMTgn/s1280/Slide1.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd9lGB1TENw3RGssXSn6XrZdgKULs4RKpJZrj1rtLL5jLvhR2SKj1tzijobanUY1nPuhAWpb3SbxXT_FzYyVGR6LR-9CxqCvKRsBwXs_yz-6ZUaswZOjT6MPipXBq8zU3bBXo__vq_GZ3YUMQcSmZH8lGFb013lKaoid0AWiQnpntMVERwhAQiMTgn/w640-h360/Slide1.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">First off, I get a tour of the plantation house at Guáimaro which
dates from the late 1700s. The Spanish
family that owned the plantation had some 360 slaves and hundreds of acres of
farm land. My tour guide at this manor
house is Carman, a thin, brown-skinned, educated, middle-aged woman with short
greying hair who seems more serious than most Cubans I have met but is, in
fact, very nice and knowledgeable.
Unfortunately, I only catch about half of what she tells me. I find that the most impressive features of
this large building are the pastoral landscape frescos adorning the walls of la
<b><i>sala
grande</i></b> (the large living room).
The owners actually lived in Trinidad most of the year but the husband
would stay here both during the harvest season and when he made frequent trips
out here to check up on his properties. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPokm9_4gjwFCWXtOwpwnbcl92OAJuARUVjAtGhw7mHVRcDhb9IaaKP4WW7IDMqnVvaLQnnaND1OlC-7_ze4iQ2ShFIideCkfiDPHi7xkmYI17ciV9Jn0CGBVK0vlKKPVcK7iQXPlXnh52dm0jrPvwY5Cmula7CpFrJrPQxw073-4RkK2Z3VzH-16d/s1280/Slide2.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPokm9_4gjwFCWXtOwpwnbcl92OAJuARUVjAtGhw7mHVRcDhb9IaaKP4WW7IDMqnVvaLQnnaND1OlC-7_ze4iQ2ShFIideCkfiDPHi7xkmYI17ciV9Jn0CGBVK0vlKKPVcK7iQXPlXnh52dm0jrPvwY5Cmula7CpFrJrPQxw073-4RkK2Z3VzH-16d/w640-h360/Slide2.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />Barbara has a woman friend who lives next to the manor house in a
modest home with her family. Barbara
seems to know half the people in the area.
As I’ve previously noted, she is very outgoing, has a zest for life, and
is frequently laughing. In Trinidad, she
always seems to be waving to people she knows and sometimes stops to talk with
them for a few minutes. I find it all
entertaining. When I’ve teased her about
how many people she knows, she says it’s because she drives a taxi.<p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimtBQN9GHJKNOGtNaXkunLOAG8jPVHRF_lGu0cLHOPmTCPOS-jmDAN23iCaJJHai8x9Ip0X8aV9OyeSsnSl-dkO81dkKo2C-FefJxmXsTc8gxjEerqkE18fFTrA2Pcyx3ENOVsMj6xiK3ej_jsWO9pqpztkmRaqRoGzZbnl5DPhpK55CwDpkE8o3te/s1280/Slide3.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimtBQN9GHJKNOGtNaXkunLOAG8jPVHRF_lGu0cLHOPmTCPOS-jmDAN23iCaJJHai8x9Ip0X8aV9OyeSsnSl-dkO81dkKo2C-FefJxmXsTc8gxjEerqkE18fFTrA2Pcyx3ENOVsMj6xiK3ej_jsWO9pqpztkmRaqRoGzZbnl5DPhpK55CwDpkE8o3te/w640-h360/Slide3.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">The woman who lives next to the manor house, her little girl (about
age 4), and Barbara are hanging out in front of the house talking and having a
good time while the little girl is hanging from her mother’s arms, legs, and
neck. It’s a bit boring for me after a
few minutes especially since I understand little of the conversation. I remind myself that it’s a good experience for
me to see how Cubans interact socially.
These are people for whom life is a struggle economically and
bureaucratically but who don’t blame each other for their woes. Instead, they seem to help each other out and
have strong friendships.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi__I6YWQDLJavTWRUV48TliSDiiG0d3CpN4UuCB_spLNsYUuKVloa1UO9sZ1NAEIbxcixd_h0DxzTo3NHceyexoQ_0s192BULJyyBP_GbyXhFolzqT-x19bTVcPfm3nvLAsHVOWf2nlosu5oAB0HWq_wIP7UUleQMjPqH6LbSp7AP2-ARcD9wxWrMw/s1280/Slide4.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi__I6YWQDLJavTWRUV48TliSDiiG0d3CpN4UuCB_spLNsYUuKVloa1UO9sZ1NAEIbxcixd_h0DxzTo3NHceyexoQ_0s192BULJyyBP_GbyXhFolzqT-x19bTVcPfm3nvLAsHVOWf2nlosu5oAB0HWq_wIP7UUleQMjPqH6LbSp7AP2-ARcD9wxWrMw/w640-h360/Slide4.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">We next head to the old “central”, a sugar mill which closed about 20
years ago. A man explains the process of
extracting sugar from the cane. There
was a power plant here which generated electricity from burning the cane
stalks. The railroad from Trinidad ended
here and there is an old 2-6-0 steam locomotive (two leading wheels and six
driving wheels with no trailing wheels) parked on a siding.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv5D29VD6wEIdXbLbJedMUdD2zVtqLMSua-vjk30rhjZCVJmB2Q6Pqi4yWIRomdVrA6MtllK91zMt87mWOI_HCDzkrlpMHpVtnmvpvIcwf-HW8LlV1YOrhDaQl14vI7lsJRFJPelsZOcgZPnAOAvMh59gehgZgsPNHYoerQACZXwxyC5ZU7WhchAdQ/s1280/Slide5.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv5D29VD6wEIdXbLbJedMUdD2zVtqLMSua-vjk30rhjZCVJmB2Q6Pqi4yWIRomdVrA6MtllK91zMt87mWOI_HCDzkrlpMHpVtnmvpvIcwf-HW8LlV1YOrhDaQl14vI7lsJRFJPelsZOcgZPnAOAvMh59gehgZgsPNHYoerQACZXwxyC5ZU7WhchAdQ/w640-h360/Slide5.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXxOKve6nPPOV_ixIufovHPRgVUQ_ikO7fIXHr2DLYbXjcvrsqP0CWy6vTeBaZKUBJNO4fdEE_UPyx9IQ6SE5NAodGxenuWsQ4wfCkbwoxm1E4-GP_iqa0jnSpw02p8owZ228-uRNCHzDCZAkONOrH8odgW0iioNxyaHVhda1sbsj_XDlf25KGWav1/s1280/Slide6.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXxOKve6nPPOV_ixIufovHPRgVUQ_ikO7fIXHr2DLYbXjcvrsqP0CWy6vTeBaZKUBJNO4fdEE_UPyx9IQ6SE5NAodGxenuWsQ4wfCkbwoxm1E4-GP_iqa0jnSpw02p8owZ228-uRNCHzDCZAkONOrH8odgW0iioNxyaHVhda1sbsj_XDlf25KGWav1/w640-h360/Slide6.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">After leaving the mill, we drive to Manaca Iznaga, a small town named
for a wealthy local 18<sup>th</sup> Century slave trader and land owner. I climb 137 steps to the top of a 44-meter
high tower with great views of the surrounding countryside. The tower was used to watch the slaves,
making sure they were working their asses off and not trying to escape. The various portals in the tower are great for
framing photos of the surrounding landscape.
<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ13s1QR-mvgZlAXaIt9LsRVomAO5Cyvm9bVjpvzalkdxlwDiOOHsPKmvcakDGWsRRhOl3U-wylH8r8EY3w7ncIF5RjZorQmSI8M65ZUQHEGlDNUF7dXi6f8rHtvGHq6sy4fXn2Mwrg-_2TEvgNT8WWYiKvCjEEYNge9uqRYr-6gIjf_TWU_7-eA43/s1280/Slide7.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ13s1QR-mvgZlAXaIt9LsRVomAO5Cyvm9bVjpvzalkdxlwDiOOHsPKmvcakDGWsRRhOl3U-wylH8r8EY3w7ncIF5RjZorQmSI8M65ZUQHEGlDNUF7dXi6f8rHtvGHq6sy4fXn2Mwrg-_2TEvgNT8WWYiKvCjEEYNge9uqRYr-6gIjf_TWU_7-eA43/w640-h360/Slide7.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUuiTJ3pTv12I-XNIAVp4r5z062-h9Hni90W7jXpz3nJbumvlI4U_7Os5t129tvXlIU1rIAcAKXyEPvoaopLxnQOuLC4F7aLUC6yoev0mvpqYm__h1WZh6_yazct8AvkLigQ69z3KSIqInP0xVjZ-CShGIBrX8d0v05d-zYawpLOXH5q9iF7NM8SUy/s1280/Slide9.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUuiTJ3pTv12I-XNIAVp4r5z062-h9Hni90W7jXpz3nJbumvlI4U_7Os5t129tvXlIU1rIAcAKXyEPvoaopLxnQOuLC4F7aLUC6yoev0mvpqYm__h1WZh6_yazct8AvkLigQ69z3KSIqInP0xVjZ-CShGIBrX8d0v05d-zYawpLOXH5q9iF7NM8SUy/w640-h360/Slide9.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiToDq-9acUgu-aaCydfyBmskb28lwvRBtlhOLh5zHV1r3_TKMXeyS2o9SaQ3d-U0ezNgFYRY-e_iqz5WUAm26WvIsYm30zxSLg4BL2xX6EF6pytZF0vZxIOsweAwq87bmu2Danzo9E907fABwBOf3VmZy4z7Uvb5q9aqOFcEhCsKtNzUbOhr4Xz2Ik/s1280/Slide10.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiToDq-9acUgu-aaCydfyBmskb28lwvRBtlhOLh5zHV1r3_TKMXeyS2o9SaQ3d-U0ezNgFYRY-e_iqz5WUAm26WvIsYm30zxSLg4BL2xX6EF6pytZF0vZxIOsweAwq87bmu2Danzo9E907fABwBOf3VmZy4z7Uvb5q9aqOFcEhCsKtNzUbOhr4Xz2Ik/w640-h360/Slide10.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">There is a huge bell in front of the hacienda near the tower which was
used to summon the slaves. Presently,
dozens of women have booths in the area around the tower and hacienda where
they sell fine woven table cloths, napkins, bedspreads, shawls, etc. Almost
all the beautifully embroidered items are white. So if someone spills a few drops of red wine
on one of these tablecloths, it’s ruined.
Not very practical. Still, I
would have liked to have supported them by buying some of their stuff but how
would I get the bulky items back to Denver?
<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUKoKlRhE-rxLAWJle50h215--UQVCmm2huEZFbJ5ADeLgPiDyAehTUj3ubBFVKA91k-9eiouo_pk658_I2lA17Q2tmBYiAfMqposlLIupKb3k53pJeqvfvwhtmmr0C5E71n6hiKQLvCDVd-OU5UlvQQYLgDikYXSn3_iryrPeqikijsBwJY6H-qll/s1280/Slide8.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUKoKlRhE-rxLAWJle50h215--UQVCmm2huEZFbJ5ADeLgPiDyAehTUj3ubBFVKA91k-9eiouo_pk658_I2lA17Q2tmBYiAfMqposlLIupKb3k53pJeqvfvwhtmmr0C5E71n6hiKQLvCDVd-OU5UlvQQYLgDikYXSn3_iryrPeqikijsBwJY6H-qll/w640-h360/Slide8.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">My visit to this historic sugar-producing valley got me thinking about
the institution of slavery which made it economically prosperous. Owning people against their will is bad
enough but the barbarity of these supposedly civilized and religiously-devout
slave owners and overseers is hard to fathom:
the chains used when transporting slaves, the auction blocks where they
were displayed like cattle, the branding with hot irons to indicate ownership,
the beatings to keep them obedient and docile, the inhumane living conditions. According to Carman, my guide at Guáimaro,
these human beings were worked fourteen hours a day, six days a week. Women were raped then forced to carry and
raise their rapists’ children who then became slaves. Families were broken up by sales of their
members for economic profit with no regard for the emotional harm this
caused. And all the assorted daily
humiliation these people suffered for their entire lives. Just who were these fucking slave owners and
the racist religions and societies that supported them? And why should we not despise them and spit
on their graves? Oh yeah, “Judge not,
lest ye be not judged” – bull shit! </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">But wait, you ask. Would you spit on the graves of George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, and James Madison? Um, no. I'd like to think that maybe they were kinder to their slaves that the average soulless slave owner. But, I must admit that it's a complicated question without simple answers. For example, is it fair to judge 18th and 19th Century morality by 21st Century standards? Hmmm. What do you think, reader? </p><p>
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">When we get back to Trinidad, Barbara stops by the Santander Ceramics
Studio run by a family of several generations of skilled potters. They have a huge stock of colorful ceramic
goodies. I buy a very small pot which
will easily fit in my luggage. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRC-61TCSdAP4XntUR82Fc-EAI3eE3p5GVhxRxkSrYDJSqqB5Atr4N9w__F-P5f3OWI3Es3q05Ur2LX-SpkbPUM36Fd6LhvCfVNCmd4CRrXDjPIfrFq8WJ4K0T6x-zTGEq9dpDvKFsSJbGAKXyJYWawM6E6OVcCserC0qexpnj4uylFRuhsHSo4Kv_/s1280/Slide11.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRC-61TCSdAP4XntUR82Fc-EAI3eE3p5GVhxRxkSrYDJSqqB5Atr4N9w__F-P5f3OWI3Es3q05Ur2LX-SpkbPUM36Fd6LhvCfVNCmd4CRrXDjPIfrFq8WJ4K0T6x-zTGEq9dpDvKFsSJbGAKXyJYWawM6E6OVcCserC0qexpnj4uylFRuhsHSo4Kv_/w640-h360/Slide11.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">Barbara’s price for my four-hour private tour is $45. She drops me off at my hostal and we agree to
leave for Cienfuegos Monday at 9:30AM. I
won’t need a taxi tomorrow as I plan to hike up to the radio/TV tower above the
city and wander the streets of the town.
<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">I have a late lunch (pizza with olives and green peppers) at Muñoz
Tapas which has a roof top terrace a couple blocks from my room. The waitress is very friendly and we talk for
a while. She claims that a foreigner can
buy a Cuban debit card at the airport in Havana which is useable for credit
card transactions. If true, this is one
more very important tip that my Lonely Planet guide didn’t mention. My cynical guess is that there’s some catch
or the card fees are exorbitant. I
complain to her that none of Cuban restaurants seem to offer <b><i>Moros
y Cristianos</i></b> (beans and rice).
She says that if I come back tomorrow they will fix me an order. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL7amV2P_bza7GNwJ2-pyWqp7U6zmpY3T70Ly7S9fRFic5XpQZi8yjRWFZiP-9fPGD850EfYYdStaQmJPoJIBgQ-AWOg1PFl4H15Gi7aAt0IwSWA04kj2hLjhP6HoQDTA0tSObCj19X7Jgi62Qz4E_KCuemtkef07YJfZwdJGK8wqOCvPSbsqCsZF8/s1280/Slide12.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL7amV2P_bza7GNwJ2-pyWqp7U6zmpY3T70Ly7S9fRFic5XpQZi8yjRWFZiP-9fPGD850EfYYdStaQmJPoJIBgQ-AWOg1PFl4H15Gi7aAt0IwSWA04kj2hLjhP6HoQDTA0tSObCj19X7Jgi62Qz4E_KCuemtkef07YJfZwdJGK8wqOCvPSbsqCsZF8/w640-h360/Slide12.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">I get back to my casa particular for a 4:00 PM haircut
appointment. I have wanted to get a
haircut at a shop in Cuba because I have good memories of the very
reasonably-priced, deluxe haircuts I got in Turkey when I worked there 20 years
ago. Yesterday, when I mentioned to
Barbara that I wanted a haircut, she said that her ex-husband’s sister could do
the job. I didn’t realize she would do
it at my place but today is her day off. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">Barbara’s son, Davier, arrives at 4:00 on his motorcycle with a woman and
introduces her in English as his “uncle”.
I have to let him know that she is his “aunt”. Irma is maybe 60 with <b><i>pelo corte</i></b> (short hair)
who is here to give me a <b><i>corte pelo</i></b> (haircut). I had told Barbara that I wanted a <u>shampoo</u>
and haircut, but I guess that Irma didn’t get the message and there is no
shampoo in my room. So we agree that
Davier will go out and buy some shampoo and cream rinse while see does the
cut. We use one of the chairs on the
outdoor dining patio next to my room.
I’m a bit embarrassed about the hair on the patio but suppose it will be
easily swept into the adjacent garden.
She cuts it a bit short and my beard very short – can’t say I didn’t get
my money’s worth. She also trims my
‘stash, my unruly eyebrows, annoying ear hair, and even my snotty nose
hairs. When Davier arrives back with the
hair goo, Irma does the wash and rinse in my sink using the detachable shower
head. Price is $10 – seems a bit high
for Cuba but, hey, she does house calls.
Next time I would go to a nice salon for a more comfortable, relaxing
experience. I write for a while after
the haircut. It’s hard keeping up with
my notes. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">At dinner time, I walk back to the<b><i> Restaurante El Dorado</i></b> on <b><i>Calle
Piro Guinart</i></b>, where I ate last night.
The lights are out again but I’m able to see to write with my
flashlight. After one party leaves, they
waitress moves me to their table so I’ll have better light from a
battery-powered lantern. In addition to
the bruschetta which I had last night, I order plantain chips, a caramel flan,
and an <b><i>agua gaseosa</i></b> (sparkling water) with a chunk of lemon but NO
ice. No more<b><i> limonadas</i></b> for me, I’m
afraid. Barbara confirmed this morning
that bars and restaurants don’t use purified water to make ice because it’s too
costly. The same band as last night is
playing but tonight they have a singer – a chubby black woman with a nice
voice. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">I arrive back at the<b><i> hostal</i></b> just before 10:00 ready to
crash. Pedro Senior meets me at the door
and wants to talk. I spoke with him for
a while yesterday – an interesting man, retired math teacher, very chubby,
maybe 70. Too bad I have so much trouble
understanding his Cuban Spanish although he understands my Spanish just fine. Yesterday, we talked politics. He’s understandably bitter against both the
Cuban government and American sanctions.
His family has trouble earning enough from travelers to maintain the
place. Tonight we talk about the western
U.S. drought. He is interested in my
analysis of the causes and long-term implications. Like many other Cubans, he assumes that the
Grand Canyon of the Colorado is in the state of Colorado. I have to explain. They’ve had guests here from many countries –
even Hong Kong, Taiwan, and Japan. Lots
of Europeans and Aussies. Even some U.S.
Americans. Before heading back to my
room, I remind him that tomorrow we “fall back” (Cuba is on Eastern Time and
observes Daylight Savings Time). He’s
forgotten about the time change. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">I’m asleep a couple hours when suddenly the lights and the fan come back
on – it’s a strange way to be awakened from a deep sleep! <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">© Will
Mahoney 2022<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">All rights
reserved. No part of this blog post nor
any associated photo can be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or
transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical or
photocopying, recording, or otherwise without prior written permission of the
author and photographer.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /> <p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><o:p></o:p></p>Will Mahoneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14657949510251910608noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1334639788072532472.post-42383113075935274102022-12-20T20:15:00.000-08:002022-12-20T20:15:27.709-08:00Friday, 4 November 2022: An Early Morning Walk on a White Sandy Beach <p><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;">I leave with Barbara
at 7:00 AM having had no breakfast.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;">It’s
too early to have asked the family to fix me one.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;">She drives me south to Playa Ancón on the
Caribbean coast.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;">It’s only about 12
kilometers but takes almost 30 minutes (20 of which are spent dodging potholes
in the road).</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;">When we are almost to the
beach, Barbara points out a new, sterile, multi-story hotel under
construction.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;">She is coming back around
10:30 to drop off other tourists so I can get a ride back to Trinidad with her
then or take another taxi.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The area where Barbara
drops me off at 7:30 is a laid-back Caribbean beach with thatch umbrellas, wooden
deck chairs, and simple open-air bars/restaurants.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">It’s a white, sandy beach – deserted except
for a few guys sweeping up any garbage from yesterday and getting rid of kelp
and other marine detritus.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I can walk in
either direction so I choose to do the long leg to the east first.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">There is a light breeze, the waves are puny,
and the sun is just coming up.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The
temperature is around 75°F.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">A damn-near
perfect morning.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The tourists are
probably still in bed sleeping off last night’s party fun.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-mILW7JMN8VzilVRsAK9ekoRoVGX0a50iN4BB2iMuxvP6OTvqW32LwSHJcdFlSZxifHQbTzqF1-2qH0mdPQ87F14DgJV7nal9RIb-SdOZunGRrs3_Em62CB_EIRLRQrAXoVeVXEBjbnpJoZXDbsVwlVJOGRFr6dXEYN70OkfED0x_yi0T-eQEm02a/s1280/Slide1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-mILW7JMN8VzilVRsAK9ekoRoVGX0a50iN4BB2iMuxvP6OTvqW32LwSHJcdFlSZxifHQbTzqF1-2qH0mdPQ87F14DgJV7nal9RIb-SdOZunGRrs3_Em62CB_EIRLRQrAXoVeVXEBjbnpJoZXDbsVwlVJOGRFr6dXEYN70OkfED0x_yi0T-eQEm02a/w640-h360/Slide1.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I walk along the edge
of the water dodging the little waves.
After about 500 feet or so, I come upon a six-story resort hotel (<b><i>Club
Amigo Ancón</i></b>) which despoils the tranquil setting. So I look out at the sea to ignore the hotel
and keep walking. Soon, the straight
beach curves right and I press on toward a point from where I’ll probably be
able to see the entire beach which is a couple miles long. The beach isn’t as nice now because once I
leave the area of the hotels and restaurants, there has been no one to clean up
the trash and get rid of the voluminous dead kelp. From the point, the shoreline curves back to
the left and I continue on another 500 feet.
Now I can see the tip of the peninsula perhaps another couple miles to
the east. It’s not worth continuing on
because this part of the beach isn’t all that scenic. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivo7iGePOfXPSlb1zGrkVBa2uNpQD4-MVfPwXlRplCUZGFERnQt41Iu6nToKq2b30RjB6Afk9OoKQxoYJJ9omeS4artAVZDS4HY49devOCsDZuE9XLmiN3OoJ9LM-UeO5u6jsdvwSNcBAcpTPJ784-YMXZHc61Yi6iB2Livyi4lWICnyL_kCpj7Pms/s1280/Slide2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivo7iGePOfXPSlb1zGrkVBa2uNpQD4-MVfPwXlRplCUZGFERnQt41Iu6nToKq2b30RjB6Afk9OoKQxoYJJ9omeS4artAVZDS4HY49devOCsDZuE9XLmiN3OoJ9LM-UeO5u6jsdvwSNcBAcpTPJ784-YMXZHc61Yi6iB2Livyi4lWICnyL_kCpj7Pms/w640-h360/Slide2.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Just before I turn
around, I stop to eat a snack.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Four
middle-aged Cuban men walk past heading east and carrying snorkeling gear.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">After we exchange greetings, one of the men
points to my pack which I’ve taken off while putting on sun screen.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">He warns me to watch my pack because there
might be boys hiding in the thick bush next to the beach who could run out and
snatch it.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Although I’ve been careful, it’s
the first time in Cuba that I’ve been aware of potential thievery except on the
streets of Havana.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">My Lonely Planet
guide also warned of the potential for voracious sand fleas at Playa Ancón in
the early morning and late evening.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">
</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">There have been a few flies and probably sand fleas as well but they’ve
not been a problem as long as I keep moving.</span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcCLGBweoEdGzPg19VH-vsYh-s7PXz81Y4z2anNHfx0pQXF9QEnTyoD0euqTnW8CbzeM3JAp0YcMi5VrmXXCt6j5UFHBoGUHnPGMQVza80BkdUWNpaQGffbC0SzEtLX4foE91Adk67u6rBhfiR_5dQ9w6g-KxTb-glWfQ1jQfzBTdNZ-q5mKhuc3e_/s1280/Slide3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcCLGBweoEdGzPg19VH-vsYh-s7PXz81Y4z2anNHfx0pQXF9QEnTyoD0euqTnW8CbzeM3JAp0YcMi5VrmXXCt6j5UFHBoGUHnPGMQVza80BkdUWNpaQGffbC0SzEtLX4foE91Adk67u6rBhfiR_5dQ9w6g-KxTb-glWfQ1jQfzBTdNZ-q5mKhuc3e_/w640-h360/Slide3.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I head back west and leave
the beach for walk past to the all-inclusive and intrusive <b><i>Hotel Club Amigo Ancón</i></b>. It’s now about 9:30 and there are still no
tourists out to enjoy the cool morning air which is quickly warming. In another hour, I would want to be under one
of those thatch umbrellas. It’s hard for
me to understand the appeal of this drab hotel.
For the same price, you can stay in a very nice historic home and eat in
authentic restaurants (Lonely Planet gives this hotel’s restaurants bad marks). Well, there are no historic homes right on
the beach, so it’s easier to be a lazy blob at the<b><i> Club Amigo Ancón</i></b> and
keep the kiddies entertained. Besides,
hotels like this have back-up generators, so guests can avoid the experience of
electricity blackouts and other daily inconveniences of Cuban life. You get whisked here from the local airport
in your air-conditioned tour bus and barely feel the potholed road along the
way. And like a cruise ship, I suspect
the hotel staff has plenty of shows and group activities to keep you
entertained. I should hasten to add that
an American tourist would not be allowed to take advantage of the lush life at <b><i>Club
Amigo Ancón</i></b> because it is a Cuban government facility. Should the U.S. Treasury Department find out
about such a transgression, an American offender could be in some deep
do-do. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjReTrQfMpP8XDhZQOcz9XXPktrvyTmIpYZUSA7852v5Qq3V-nL_7zvpVIEekXLfb2y3UGmmqYGWL8ObxKq2aL7_InA5sMp1S22HoXlNWqNVrXmvHZdt9cSFkh4paGSnxSabL50uLlTUXPSfcdJL0Pn2gLe6tcgYOBkyPhJiKttjobmFLKjBieZvRs1/s1280/Slide4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjReTrQfMpP8XDhZQOcz9XXPktrvyTmIpYZUSA7852v5Qq3V-nL_7zvpVIEekXLfb2y3UGmmqYGWL8ObxKq2aL7_InA5sMp1S22HoXlNWqNVrXmvHZdt9cSFkh4paGSnxSabL50uLlTUXPSfcdJL0Pn2gLe6tcgYOBkyPhJiKttjobmFLKjBieZvRs1/w640-h360/Slide4.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I leave the hotel and
continue west along the beach. The sand
turns to coral rock just before the next point.
Beyond here, the shoreline is all mangrove swamp so it’s a good place to
turn around. Barbara had recommended a
small beach café which didn’t open until 9:00.
I’m starved after a nearly four mile walk and order a <b><i>limonada</i></b>
and fried plantains for starters and plan to order more. They are unable to fix much of anything now
because – surprise, the power is out again.
So, I settle for hot tea which they can provide – I guess they have a
gas burner. Here’s another example of
how small businesses suffer because of the power situation. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYru3oL3mudo0iAKwSE-NXUgWklrfolJLku149MSJ3OxwxV70IgZqek6_oQZgqOEMeO3hzR2Cd2fGzkEzL-u4JJdW5U2OcjEO9Ha2TjIydX-gK-qmHahAmvkG3MwdgGpJb1qgElpEyE-INLTc1purXxu7OQRe2V8HIAbZB4o78ssjX3OlRA6NuRdiJ/s1280/Slide5.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYru3oL3mudo0iAKwSE-NXUgWklrfolJLku149MSJ3OxwxV70IgZqek6_oQZgqOEMeO3hzR2Cd2fGzkEzL-u4JJdW5U2OcjEO9Ha2TjIydX-gK-qmHahAmvkG3MwdgGpJb1qgElpEyE-INLTc1purXxu7OQRe2V8HIAbZB4o78ssjX3OlRA6NuRdiJ/w640-h360/Slide5.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Around 10:30, I walk
out to the parking lot where Barbara will pick me up. Wow!
There is a beautiful old black Mercury convertible parked there. I take some photos and the owner walks up to
say, “<b><i>hola</i></b>”. “<b><i>Es un
cuarento y ocho</i></b> [‘48],<b><i> ¿no?</i></b>” I ask. “<b><i>Sí</i></b>”, he replies. He wonders if I need a taxi but I decide to
wait for Barbara. Damn, my Chi hat and
cigar are back in my room. Otherwise, I
could ask about getting a photo behind the wheel of this lovely beast.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlc5FV96TKS4-qHNdLqpwlFqfCgJ2PIJEWE3Vd1HKR9CXzmKwQvZZsRA3BhHNm7qWL7pZBUkgiqM1ycWjQ97PT12ZTiBK8lMNqiBt43abY3XMRQj-qf_tCbWakqDiXQKLD9b1U2_1sWYRquU0TgEWiUrESTFcJ0C_9VnKyfiK5iMBsZw9tYilOb2hw/s1280/Slide6.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlc5FV96TKS4-qHNdLqpwlFqfCgJ2PIJEWE3Vd1HKR9CXzmKwQvZZsRA3BhHNm7qWL7pZBUkgiqM1ycWjQ97PT12ZTiBK8lMNqiBt43abY3XMRQj-qf_tCbWakqDiXQKLD9b1U2_1sWYRquU0TgEWiUrESTFcJ0C_9VnKyfiK5iMBsZw9tYilOb2hw/w640-h360/Slide6.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The ’48 Merc driver
takes off and Barbara gets back to the beach a few minutes later. I tell her about the beautiful old car I wish
I could have sat in for some photos. As
she’s driving me back to my casa particular along <b><i>Calle Antonio Maceo</i></b>, there
it is! The same ’48 Mercury convertible is
parked along the street. Oh, she knows
the owner. She stops and tells the
fellow about my interest in getting a photo of me seated in the car. He agrees.
So Barbara rushes me back to my room where I grab the cigar and hat. When we get back to the Mercury, I hand
Barbara my camera and climb in. I’d
forgotten how spacious it feels to get behind the wheel of one of these big ol’
girls! The photos turn out well except I
neglect to turn the stogie a bit sideways and it doesn’t show up as well as I
would have liked. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC1ZnYDPUxfhCppFIIbjGBMvenEGyiWJzVDuDXwN_SFesCErg9dLE-JFbpeSyesPKtukhLNqy-MZJ6HXOZlaCFtTAUzcjBQZKuaqQnIsw1dBUI_qld_z8SaThAdJyXnv5EjCoPpmKGiNaB008MF1nDNtnJV978AgfX2qqSBjVfq_ivQYZefQfO1EVl/s1280/Slide7.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC1ZnYDPUxfhCppFIIbjGBMvenEGyiWJzVDuDXwN_SFesCErg9dLE-JFbpeSyesPKtukhLNqy-MZJ6HXOZlaCFtTAUzcjBQZKuaqQnIsw1dBUI_qld_z8SaThAdJyXnv5EjCoPpmKGiNaB008MF1nDNtnJV978AgfX2qqSBjVfq_ivQYZefQfO1EVl/w640-h360/Slide7.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I have lunch at a
restaurant recommended by Lonely Planet but it’s overpriced and my pasta dish
is boring. Afterword, I meet Barbara’s
son, Davier, back at my casa particular for an English lesson. He brings me a gift of a couple cigars, hand rolled
by a relative. I have Davier tell me (in
English) about his life, his family, his girlfriend, the sports he likes,
etc. <b><i>Jesucristo</i></b>, English is
hard! I don’t know how anyone who is not
a native speaker masters it. Unlike
Spanish and French, there is no consistency in rules for grammar and pronunciation.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">
</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkHCOb-DLCDpnfdpGvx3Ur86Una38fHGObeOmS9hZWNu7f1bwFnQsfiQumcES4zSURCioLeer6PTy5_coBnBE9GIU3OJgdrrdde1R1Yo3r4pCJ6nOiWKWeJKpUN9nlNr0mvYz6uO_7FQNWIxxMEZM7f8A9iRTCCTw2q2pMvdhXbRTg8o5YwcNqCB6M/s1280/Slide8.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkHCOb-DLCDpnfdpGvx3Ur86Una38fHGObeOmS9hZWNu7f1bwFnQsfiQumcES4zSURCioLeer6PTy5_coBnBE9GIU3OJgdrrdde1R1Yo3r4pCJ6nOiWKWeJKpUN9nlNr0mvYz6uO_7FQNWIxxMEZM7f8A9iRTCCTw2q2pMvdhXbRTg8o5YwcNqCB6M/w640-h360/Slide8.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I find a nice, quiet
bar north of the central plaza where I can use that government internet card I
bought in Sancti Spíritus.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The place is
like a museum with old 78rpm records on the wall and antique furniture.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I sip a </span><b style="font-size: 12pt;"><i>limonada</i></b><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> while reading at short
story in my Pedro Juan Gutiérrez book.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_3Z5oI6O_BbLC5GNuoAuIa6SUk5WAyn_w2GK8n0C4E-vfQek8KCFZSCePF6vQxwT5x8m-Dw1YLdNdmSZx17-2IpWmCax8iFiXZNrJm8yNuWtXGh9LVXEyv6U3Nl2pQcQHe7sWpQnKlzJRS2A7cMkmFO8s8tK8VEm4OS8QP_3_twBDK844MgW-8KAD/s1280/Slide9.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_3Z5oI6O_BbLC5GNuoAuIa6SUk5WAyn_w2GK8n0C4E-vfQek8KCFZSCePF6vQxwT5x8m-Dw1YLdNdmSZx17-2IpWmCax8iFiXZNrJm8yNuWtXGh9LVXEyv6U3Nl2pQcQHe7sWpQnKlzJRS2A7cMkmFO8s8tK8VEm4OS8QP_3_twBDK844MgW-8KAD/w640-h360/Slide9.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: center;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I wander around the
center of old Trinidad shooting a few photos.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">
</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">On the way back to my room, a pretty young woman stops me to plug her
restaurant.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I look at the menu and see a
few vegetarian items.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The interior has a
homey atmosphere and it’s only a block from my room.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">So, I come back at dinner time.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The power is out but they have battery-powered
table lamps and can fix just about anything on the menu.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">While I’m eating, a four-piece band shows up
and plays some traditional Cuban music.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">
</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">While they are playing, the lights come back on at 8:00 PM.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">During a break, one of the band members comes
by my table and wonders if I’d like to buy a copy of their CD.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">He wants $10 for it, a bit high for Cuba but
I like to support live music.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">When they
finish the next set, the band members come by and autograph the cover for
me.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">One of the guitarists is blind so
one of the other band members guides his hand to a good spot on the cover for
his signature.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></div><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU3RBg3jmirS9b-NwEORdPIwawcocZNPqyxUdanaof8b8bW9eIoaR2tkcdJuQFTKY0hE9ZDFxbYe90t1GXEKMqSAHGUEWmqPlj9GqwU9McMJRxLXydNBJJGmifPiCRw2hw_jy0HaeONLu4E8gcqoKJgDKYQDT3zoGVKZhKzA3So6kYypEad9kja9cQ/s1280/Slide10.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU3RBg3jmirS9b-NwEORdPIwawcocZNPqyxUdanaof8b8bW9eIoaR2tkcdJuQFTKY0hE9ZDFxbYe90t1GXEKMqSAHGUEWmqPlj9GqwU9McMJRxLXydNBJJGmifPiCRw2hw_jy0HaeONLu4E8gcqoKJgDKYQDT3zoGVKZhKzA3So6kYypEad9kja9cQ/w640-h360/Slide10.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">After I get back to my
room, sorry to be graphic but I’ve got the screaming shits and feel
nauseous.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Once I shit out all the bad
stuff and chew a couple Pepto-Bismol tablets, I feel better.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I wonder if it’s the ice used in my </span><b style="font-size: 12pt;"><i>limonadas</i></b><span style="font-size: 12pt;">.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I’ve assumed they use purified water for the
crushed ice – hmmm.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">© Will
Mahoney 2022<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">All rights
reserved. No part of this blog post nor
any associated photo can be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or
transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical or
photocopying, recording, or otherwise without prior written permission of the
author and photographe</span>r.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /> </span></p></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br /><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>Will Mahoneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14657949510251910608noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1334639788072532472.post-44703426239400121672022-12-19T15:41:00.002-08:002022-12-20T12:18:26.094-08:00Thursday, 3 November 2022: How to Beat the System in Cuba<p><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;">Up at 5:00 this
morning to pack for my return to Trinidad and catch up on these notes.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;">I’m feeling defeated by my exclusion from
national park trails because I can’t pay with a credit card.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;">I give up trying to fight the system and
decide to explore the area in the vicinity of Rancho Bee Hole.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">After another
excellent breakfast, I head back down the trail from the rancho toward the
Vegas Grande.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Would it be possible to
see the falls from above?</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Probably not
but it might be fun to try.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I take
another trail toward the </span><b style="font-size: 12pt;"><i>Río El Colín</i></b><span style="font-size: 12pt;">.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">It descends toward the river and is very
muddy.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">A good-looking white Cuban guy
around 40 on a burro catches up with me.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">
</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Too bad I don’t think to ask if I can take his photo.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">He doesn’t think there is a way to get above
the falls.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I ask if it’s ok to continue
down this trail.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Yes, and there is a
village at the bottom of the trail along the river.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">He heads off toward the village and I follow
in the distance.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">When I reach the river,
the heavy riparian vegetation prevents me from seeing much up or down the
river.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I see a single strand electric
line following the shore and assume the village must have power.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I turn back before I get to the village after
encountering a very steep, muddy section of trail – a recipe for my slipping
and taking a mud bath.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">No, seeing the
village isn’t worth it.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHvSuHAWgSYlBjnWgqG_fP3jq1C3VnLU9dDBvQkbowL2nZRHoCceKB-5FAhrlowHUzJLh4gGIhcd4nV6fSh8Nv7jg-crgdhNeETWA72WwP3_7UG-aZQHAoDPSY9-CxAEshF5hckDdFbr5lwRhY1gRXx4uYTmCCSiO05pPK0NTkI7F58QxJG0O4RwMb/s1280/Slide1.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHvSuHAWgSYlBjnWgqG_fP3jq1C3VnLU9dDBvQkbowL2nZRHoCceKB-5FAhrlowHUzJLh4gGIhcd4nV6fSh8Nv7jg-crgdhNeETWA72WwP3_7UG-aZQHAoDPSY9-CxAEshF5hckDdFbr5lwRhY1gRXx4uYTmCCSiO05pPK0NTkI7F58QxJG0O4RwMb/w640-h360/Slide1.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I go back to the main
trail and turn off in the direction of the river to climb a hill a couple
hundred meters from the start of the trail down to Vegas Grande. There is no trail but I walk past towering
pines and continue to the top without difficulty. I can barely make out the sound of the falls
in the distance and the terrain slopes steeply downhill from here. On the way back to the main trail, I’m harassed
by a barking dog. I back away from him,
yell, and show him my walking stick and he keeps his distance. </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizy3PTlGOwGFkZkNkEhfMiMpE7_7PB65o9xv_s61QXPkhVlUqGa8RT1uQ02lZWL_nS1sOFqhVBXbzwfKqMU24t5kvIakeDv2M5Q3PvSbwDyQL5UNqdaXq7CwEVvQq1AwrgC_F92_Ic9zWKDSSS5OWd3wN0qyy6-wT8KwfRLBATjczyTbFvfIsoUBer/s1280/Slide2.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizy3PTlGOwGFkZkNkEhfMiMpE7_7PB65o9xv_s61QXPkhVlUqGa8RT1uQ02lZWL_nS1sOFqhVBXbzwfKqMU24t5kvIakeDv2M5Q3PvSbwDyQL5UNqdaXq7CwEVvQq1AwrgC_F92_Ic9zWKDSSS5OWd3wN0qyy6-wT8KwfRLBATjczyTbFvfIsoUBer/w640-h360/Slide2.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I follow the main
trail back in the direction of Rancho Bee Hole and take a couple side trails
that lead south, away from the river.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It’s nice countryside – forest with some agricultural land.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Eventually, I get back down to the main road
leading back to Trinidad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I follow the
road back in the direction of the rancho passing a school and the <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">El
Colín</i></b> bridge.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgftmiNyLhVuZWDg2yYPYiQZ2uNma84_x1QzzUL8MMjdQ6m2uRORsfq9NYdwT7RWL1WSgjmkUcXNak7306GEKdLs7pSbO0ahQ4huNFjBGIWtH14ccpLqKTCk34bK_DkcG8mTkGQ-kCKdtiO4VytqEGzi-unTxWbpsb4G25SV-8xyE5EAtQVuG2nOqqz/s1280/Slide3.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgftmiNyLhVuZWDg2yYPYiQZ2uNma84_x1QzzUL8MMjdQ6m2uRORsfq9NYdwT7RWL1WSgjmkUcXNak7306GEKdLs7pSbO0ahQ4huNFjBGIWtH14ccpLqKTCk34bK_DkcG8mTkGQ-kCKdtiO4VytqEGzi-unTxWbpsb4G25SV-8xyE5EAtQVuG2nOqqz/w640-h360/Slide3.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">All of a sudden, I am
shocked to hear a man in a car yell, “Will?”
“William?” Who the flock would
know my name out here? The driver
introduces himself as Pedro, the Cuban-American owner of Rancho Bee Hole who
lives in Chicago. We had exchanged a
couple emails when I first made my reservation.
He’s here with his business partner, Liber, who lives in Havana. They have just arrived for a couple days to
check on the rancho and take care of some other stuff associated with their
nature tour company, “The Nature Xperts” (<a href="http://www.thenaturexperts.com/">www.thenaturexperts.com</a>). <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiohUX8V5H0cr636i__vBOceYhn_TaMDrJvR32xJnTg5rvLla2IK2aJndtLBU5G2yYRUk60RMWbNR_p3A0i96t-cWFYyhhJZFjHi1ApjddEq6iTgsRZDuIvl2KBnbz71A5A4mbx37kGgvfUOExyn7mGRCPXJMTjJmEWxJ1gI81dVcpPx3ail-f1XiY3/s1280/Slide4.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiohUX8V5H0cr636i__vBOceYhn_TaMDrJvR32xJnTg5rvLla2IK2aJndtLBU5G2yYRUk60RMWbNR_p3A0i96t-cWFYyhhJZFjHi1ApjddEq6iTgsRZDuIvl2KBnbz71A5A4mbx37kGgvfUOExyn7mGRCPXJMTjJmEWxJ1gI81dVcpPx3ail-f1XiY3/w640-h360/Slide4.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br /></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I have a long talk
with them both here along the road and after we reconnect at the rancho. Pedro and Liber put together Cuba trips for
groups from Europe, the U.S., etc. such as bike tours, visits to places
associated with Fidel, hiking trips, etc.
I tell them that I have really enjoyed Rancho Bee Hole, the food, and
the coffee farm tour. I add that the damned
electricity blackouts are a pain in the ass but certainly are not their
fault. Pedro has been a bit concerned
that Carlos and Pedro Antonio would be able to put together good vegetarian
meals for me but I assure him it has not been a problem.</span></p><p></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I also tell Pedro and
Liber about my hassles with the national park not taking cash payments for
hiking tickets and insisting on credit cards which, as an American, I am unable
to use. I think they are aware of the
problem but it doesn’t come up much because most of their guests are from
Europe or on pre-arranged tours. Pedro
says I should have called him in Chicago before my trip. They weren’t sure what I wanted to do so had
only arranged for the coffee farm tour. Pedro
thinks they could have figured out a way to get hiking tickets for me. I had told him in my email that I wanted to
hike in the national park. I had had the
impression that the ranch manager could arrange for guides or rides to trail
heads. It never crossed my mind that I
would need help with paying park fees with pesos or dollars. Damnit, I should have called him before
leaving Denver. A hard lesson learned –
when visiting a place like Cuba, do your homework and get advice in advance
from people like Pedro and Liber who know the ropes. Getting to Cuba from the U.S. is now very
easy. But once you get here, it’s way
more complicated than driving to Canada or flying to France for a vacation! And you certainly can’t rely on guidebooks
like Lonely Planet to tell you everything you need to know.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Not surprisingly, the
conversation soon drifts to politics.
Pedro says the reason Cuban-Americans continue to push US politicians to
maintain sanctions on Cuba is not so much about revenge against the Cuban
government for confiscating properties and businesses after 1959 or about
anti-communism. It is simply that there
are Cuban-Americans with powerful connections to politicians like Senator Marco
Rubio who are profiting from the sanctions.
It’s complicated but these people have businesses that help people get
around the embargo. No embargo means no
need for their businesses. The bottom
line is that the sanctions are about money – not political ideology or what
happened 60 years ago. Also, Cuba is a
good issue to rile up American conservative voters who equate communism with “<b><i>El
Diablo</i></b>”. Certainly, no one with
any political savvy still believes that maintaining an economic blockade on
Cuba will bring down the communist government in Havana. After all, it hasn’t worked in more than 60
years.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">During lunch, I ask
Pedro about the origin of the name “Rancho Bee Hole”. He explains that Bee Hole is a play on the
Spanish word “<b><i>bejol</i></b>” which is a type of Latin American seasoning. It was Pedro’s nickname when he was growing
up. In addition, they have talked about
raising non-stinging honey bees here at the rancho. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgePyFspEgE6abQ8zgQobExRkDhe66KXJdWRPUrthtNC913KQP9LHchbmDxZ0wIh6sw2UNtdz_PrZnHt3iLks_Wy3kgGk5IhKbY79NmeNqLQy_J1ImOqGDTuFrMNB9c6znLwnv5X-RJInHj4DLSi2rkvSKXReEh1Oc_xKfrWsQwj_a0ck5iP_eVg3qx/s1280/Slide5.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgePyFspEgE6abQ8zgQobExRkDhe66KXJdWRPUrthtNC913KQP9LHchbmDxZ0wIh6sw2UNtdz_PrZnHt3iLks_Wy3kgGk5IhKbY79NmeNqLQy_J1ImOqGDTuFrMNB9c6znLwnv5X-RJInHj4DLSi2rkvSKXReEh1Oc_xKfrWsQwj_a0ck5iP_eVg3qx/w640-h360/Slide5.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">As I’m finishing
lunch, four new guests arrive: three
women and one man. Two are from Spain
and two from Cuba; all friends. So, they
will fill the accommodations here with two to a room. Shortly thereafter, the ticket taker for Vegas Grande shows up. He wants me to pay him the $10.00 for yesterday's hike. I tell him that I tried to pay it at the information center yesterday afternoon but they wouldn't take my cash. He is very insistant and rather than make a scene, I shake my head in amazement and hand him a $10 bill just to get rid of him. Maybe the part of yesterday's phone conversation that I didn't understand was his supervisor telling me to give the ticket taker ten bucks cash after my hike to the falls. The Cuban bureaucracy continues to be full of unfathomable surprises. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">We take final group
photos and I say my goodbyes to Pedro Antonio, Carlos, Pedro, and Liber.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Pedro and Liber walk with me to the main road
where I will meet Barbara, my trusty Trinidad cab driver, at 3:00 PM.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I find Pedro and Liber to be likeable,
fast-talking characters.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I think they
can be trusted to provide good tours.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I
have a few friends in mind who may wish to avail themselves of their
services.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I’m not sure a tour will be my
cup of tea but it will depend on who is going and the itinerary.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I certainly hope to get back here before I’m
too old to enjoy it.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Just before 3:00,
Barbara arrives.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I like her
effusiveness.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Her 18-year-old son,
Davier, is with her.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">He says he taught
English but lost his job due to covid.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">
</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I’m not clear as to how he was a teacher at such a young age.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">His English isn’t all that good – he knows it
and wants to improve.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I offer to give
him a lesson or two?</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">What else do I have
to do in Trinidad during the heat of the day.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">
</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Besides, I remember that I enjoyed teaching English to a young guide at
La Mariposa, the Spanish school where I studied in Nicaragua four years
ago.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Barbara asks where I’m
going after I leave Trinidad in four days.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">
</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I tell her I’ll be heading to Cienfuegos, 1½ hours to the
northwest.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">She wants to drive me there
adding that the normal price is $40 but she’ll do it for $30.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Sure, I may be able to find a </span><b style="font-size: 12pt;"><i>colectivo</i></b><span style="font-size: 12pt;">
for less but going with her will be easier and more comfortable.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Plus, she’s fun to be with and I’m glad to
throw some dollars in her direction.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I’m
more relaxed about spending money now than I was a week ago as I’m way below my
budget and have more than $500 in cash left.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">
</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY9h09dcXXZ6catvTGLNks-94KmglJfbT7JHJfZ08_eIPQTRhrRD6SgtKaseYXlUJDmB2NqvyL04EByT2g50Q5zHJEEYRAMXyIQR2SxgRKNExrfd1z0lK3hmxbJcJg_WuY7gggJ_1oIms841tWdRWjG2ZobWPxA-w2u-xUk1nA8sLZKP5xB5uF2X66/s1280/Slide6.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY9h09dcXXZ6catvTGLNks-94KmglJfbT7JHJfZ08_eIPQTRhrRD6SgtKaseYXlUJDmB2NqvyL04EByT2g50Q5zHJEEYRAMXyIQR2SxgRKNExrfd1z0lK3hmxbJcJg_WuY7gggJ_1oIms841tWdRWjG2ZobWPxA-w2u-xUk1nA8sLZKP5xB5uF2X66/w640-h360/Slide6.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">We arrive at my casa
particular (not the same one I stayed in this past Sunday night).</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">It’s on the </span><b style="font-size: 12pt;"><i>Calle Gloria</i></b><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> and only
three blocks from the </span><b style="font-size: 12pt;"><i>Plaza Mayor</i></b><span style="font-size: 12pt;">, the historic center of
Trinidad.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I’m met at the door by Pedro
who is in his 30s and is the son of the owner who is also named Pedro.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">This is another home with historic
furnishings.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The family actually lives in
the adjacent but interconnected home.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">My
room is simple but adequate – one double and one single bed with a private bath
and shower.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I opt to sleep in the single
bed as it’s closest to the bathroom and I have more room to spread out my stuff
on the double bed.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_0UKm4gIZNM3tOBOv0Kyo1ntj1148M8q8EU5Wf8DFBQNYDd5mRhMZjXG0qHAPIoqA_FjKJJwR0vUmg-p-qwamPezFinmmpBaHIJ3TwBTMdZGcGHOOdpHceX3htwNq6Cxe2fGSKH17Wi4bi818Uhs0X4Q3Wdsct8RHY-HnEkrE4ngg69cX1bs2RPh_/s1280/Slide7.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_0UKm4gIZNM3tOBOv0Kyo1ntj1148M8q8EU5Wf8DFBQNYDd5mRhMZjXG0qHAPIoqA_FjKJJwR0vUmg-p-qwamPezFinmmpBaHIJ3TwBTMdZGcGHOOdpHceX3htwNq6Cxe2fGSKH17Wi4bi818Uhs0X4Q3Wdsct8RHY-HnEkrE4ngg69cX1bs2RPh_/w640-h360/Slide7.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I walk up to the <b><i>Plaza
Mayor</i></b>. There is a colonial
church (nice but not spectacular) on the upper (northeast) side of the
plaza. For the first time since leaving
Havana, I encounter a few hustlers wanting to take me on tours, sell me stuff,
or change money. This being a tourist
town (which is not currently overwhelmed by tourists), there are more dining
options than in Santa Clara or Sancti Spíritus.
I spot a little café one block off the plaza which advertises free wifi
and veggie tacos. I settle in for an
hour enjoying a <b><i>limonada</i></b> and tacos and catching up on emails on my cell phone. The bill is little more than 400 pesos (about
$3.00) and the <b><i>mesero</i></b> (waiter) wonders why I give him a 500 peso note when he
sees I also have 100s and 10s in my wallet.
He is pleasantly surprised when I tell him the rest is for him.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKRXNdKjy-RIr0_NwMetuQdqls-SnioIzsHgVr4igwSHeuX1d1xtN6ZTHsACojQC1tCzqqWyrg7W2pZVzqnB-MNIBOxK2Rolk886cNtn31DtJZe3KoVGVYj748HqXpOrr4yumk0ezEd6dnPiC543KEEQDn6ejHXTkEho4l9BbqMPLlE5NstBKTpTyv/s1280/Slide8.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKRXNdKjy-RIr0_NwMetuQdqls-SnioIzsHgVr4igwSHeuX1d1xtN6ZTHsACojQC1tCzqqWyrg7W2pZVzqnB-MNIBOxK2Rolk886cNtn31DtJZe3KoVGVYj748HqXpOrr4yumk0ezEd6dnPiC543KEEQDn6ejHXTkEho4l9BbqMPLlE5NstBKTpTyv/w640-h360/Slide8.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Barbara is picking me
up early tomorrow (7:00 AM) to drive me to the Playa Ancón, a Caribbean beach
about 12 kilometers south of Trinidad.
It was her idea to go early so I can avoid the heat and the crowds –
she’s on my wavelength! I head to bed
early as the power goes off at 8:00 PM and it’s no fun reading and writing with
a damn flashlight. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">
</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS4dAaX28P-kLhzz2KBBL4xH79y0UN_4t9NIsm_dQplB4sFOY2OG8kuw8buCldKxtA43Gz41-wVJ2AIWfe9m7Ek7hK_t__fTrjQ6BDqXAcgUvntTyt_NV9QAVmO1sm-GZVpHpdvd2yJFRS2ZGKTH1pVNbusD5Qa1DI5jPtQsfqBwu-e3RAZErsKU0w/s1280/Slide9.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS4dAaX28P-kLhzz2KBBL4xH79y0UN_4t9NIsm_dQplB4sFOY2OG8kuw8buCldKxtA43Gz41-wVJ2AIWfe9m7Ek7hK_t__fTrjQ6BDqXAcgUvntTyt_NV9QAVmO1sm-GZVpHpdvd2yJFRS2ZGKTH1pVNbusD5Qa1DI5jPtQsfqBwu-e3RAZErsKU0w/w640-h360/Slide9.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">© Will
Mahoney 2022<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">All rights reserved. No part of this blog post nor any associated
photo can be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any
form or by any means, electronic, mechanical or photocopying, recording, or
otherwise without prior written permission of the author and photographer.<o:p></o:p></p></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br /></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br /></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br /><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span><p></p>Will Mahoneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14657949510251910608noreply@blogger.com0