Mariska and I woke up and were ready for breakfast at 9am sharp. Gerardo’s wife made us a breakfast spread that left no room for hunger: rolls, eggs, vegetables, a fruit platter, smoothies, coffee and tea. We sat at the table, stuffed, when Gerardo came in and sat down, making sure we had a good meal the night before, making sure the room was ok, and to see what we had planned that day.
I studied it carefully, as I hate pulling a map out in public, trying to remember every twist and turn that his route would take us through (it didn’t stop me from having to pull out a map in public several times). He looked up and said, “Relax,” as if he could sense my neurotic American energy, wondering exactly how lost I was going to get.
I, being the crazier one of the two of us traveling, asked him several follow up questions, as I do with everything in life. He got to the point at the end of the trip where he would look at me and say, “What else?” as if he knew more questions were coming at him rapid fire as soon as he had his coffee in the morning.
We wandered through the streets, hitting sites quickly, until we realized we had plenty of time to hit everything we wanted, so we could meander through and take our time. Men kept yelling out at us, things like, “Hello Blondie,” and “You are so beautiful, and I’m so ugly. We could be beauty and the beast.” I had to admit that one made me laugh out loud, and as much as it annoys me to be catcalled, it just becomes part of the atmosphere by the end and easy to ignore, as it was very nonthreatening. Such is the price of being a Blondie abroad.
We wandered through Obispo, to see all of the window shopping and stopped by Hotel Ambos Mundos, where Hemingway used to stay when he would come visit. I had a fascination with the Hemingway version of Cuba, so insisted we check out the room.
The woman giving tours said they were closed for lunch, so we asked a guy that worked at the hotel if he could give us a good restaurant recommendation. “One that you would eat as a Cuban, not a place to send tourists,” requested Mariska.
When we went back, he remembered us, but told us that the room was still closed for an hour or two. So we decided to grab a mojito at the bar and channel our inner Hemingways while waiting. We met two Canadian men who were on their own Hemingway tour, and we confirmed all of the hot spots that should be hit up before we left.
I appreciate it is his job, but everyone we encountered was friendly, chatty, and helpful. Did they sometimes have hidden motives to sell something? Absolutely. But I figured take it or leave it and use my best judgment. It was refreshing to be in a city of chatty people rather than people who ignore each other throughout the course of the day.
Love being off grid and killing time w mojitos.
Hemingway is too manly for me but LOVE his place in Key West. He too
liked blondes!
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