Massage and Waterfalls and Sweaty Salsa

In Trinidad now. It´s a very pretty world heritage site. Which means it´s full of artifically preserved Cubanity. Which means tutored Western ladies doing Salsa with very intense faces and wiggly arses. And Cuban people offering to sell you cigars, crocheted stuff, jewellery and anything to do with Che. I didn´t find a crocheted bikini so I know now my life will never be complete.

The people on the stalls do things like put necklaces around your neck, because you are a pretty lady. If you are Su you look pleased and say thanks! If you are Michelle you take it off as if it stings and then thrust it back. Eventually you keep the necklace. After you purchase something, the lady then asks for the t-shirt off your back coz she gave you a present and she wants something back.

Grrr.

The massage was a treat. 8 dollars for 20 minutes. I got enticed into the shop by a wizened old Cuban lady, with old but strong hands - a warm wisdom emanating from deep within her sun-browned face. So it was a bit of a shock to be taken into a small back room by a burly young Cuban buck, who preceded my massage with instructions like ´'top off now' and 'lie down' and 'RELAX'. I had gone for the therapeutic massage option, imagining the old lady kneading my still-white shoulders. Instead I got pummelled by this horse of a Cuban fella to the sound of ´'Smooth Operator'.

I did come out relaxed and a bit high. I guess it was a case of submit/surrender or die resisting the relaxation methods.

And I did a hike! Am very pleased about this one. 3.5 km of a walk down a mountain (they drove us to the top in a Russian army truck - forever burned in my memory as the diddy-shaker) and back up. At the bottom of the valley we got to swim in this gorgeous waterfall. Fish like me. I think I want to be a mermaid. Freshwater of course. And somewhere warm. Sligo´s Glencar waterfall is not an option.

Today we leave for Santa Clara, where dead Che G is. Then maybe back to Havana. I still haven´t got to do Salsa. The intense Western ladies have been putting me off. And it´s too bright in these Cuban tourist bars. But I believe I´ll find me a dimly lit Cuban bar where I will discover my natural talent for salsa dancing, complete with a natively relaxed smiley face and super-quick snake hips.

Oh yes. The food. I have got fat in Cuba. Like an abused pony turned out to luscious meadow of clover and juicy grass. Except I´ve been on sugary cocktails and fatty pizzas...

I am a curvacious freckle :)