.: My 60th birthday gift to myself.

So. Yesterday I drove up to Miami and spent the night at the Marriott, well most of it anyway. Had a briefing that lasted 'til 9pm and then had to get up at 3:30 to catch a shuttle to the airport for my charter flight to Cuba. Yes, that's right people. Cuba!!! And I can't believe I've only been here one day. It was a long and full day and I just got back to my hotel. To my surprise and delight, I was put on the VIP floor and given a username and password for free internet after being told it was doubtful we'd have it at all. Yes!

The flight was a bit bumpy but with Enya blasting in my noise canceling headphones and a dose of Xanax, along with the lack of sleep, it was relatively painless. We hit the ground running at the Jose Marti International Airport and were off to Revolution Square. I should mention here that I am traveling with a dozen or so people mostly from Maine and the Cape and a few snowbirds like myself. We all came along with Paul Parent who hosts the Garden Club Show in Maine on Sunday mornings and I think I've referred to him in previous posts.

Being in Cuba is like stepping back in time, seriously a time warp. The cars are 1950's American in luscious colors, weird little Soviet Ladas and the busses are Chinese. There are still horses and burros and buggies. Teeny cabs, ancient motorcycles and bicycles with all kinds of contraptions to transport stuff.

The buildings are colonial and in various states of disrepair. The Malecon which is 7 metres along the Atlantic Ocean, is lined with old decaying granite buildings with beautiful old lines and scrolls and fancywork. There are also tall apartment houses and hotels that look like a stiff breeze would dash them to the ground. Scary.

The people? Lovely. Friendly and happy to talk. Not a lot of English spoken here. We have a bus driver named Tony, an American guide named Daniel and a Cuban guide named Iban. They are all fabu and funny and instructive and I like them very much. Our schedule is intense because, you see, we are not tourists. No we are on a people to people educational exchange tour and our time is scripted.

So, after Revolution Square, we made a stop at the Hotel Nacional, had a mojito at the same bar that such stars as Frank Sinatra, Greta Garbo, Errol Flynn, Rita Hayworth, the gangster Meyer Lansky and countless others, including presidents and pop stars frequented back in the day. Their pictures surround you as you sip your drink and you can hear peacocks out on the grounds (God they are loud) and the waves slapping the sea wall just outside.

We went next to the Colon Cemetery, an amazingly beautiful place of marble, limestone and granite carvings and crypts. My fave was a tribute to the firefighters and I loved seeing Hemmingway's bartender's crypt. V. cool.

Above and below are details of the firefighter's monument, 75 feet tall, commemorating their loss in the great fire of May 1890. Incredible.

Hemingway's Bartender

And one more that piqued my interest was Amelia's memorial. She was buried together with her baby and the story is the baby was put at her feet in the coffin but when they opened the coffin for whatever reason - I forget, the baby was in her arms. I watched the local women perform a ritual wherein they ring a bell, touch the baby's feet, give a donation or leave flowers and back away on the other side. All very quiet and solemn. There is more to it than that and if you are interested, try The Google.

Lunch at the Paladar Mediterraneo was next. Palador is the name for a restaurant owned by a foreign investor or private citizen and run by private citizens and not the government. These are far superior to the government run restaurants because the party who owns the restaurant wants it to succeed, to insure it gets it's 49% profit (the government takes 51%.) Not sure how clear I made that sound but we sure had some good food today. And lots of it.

After a walking tour of Old Havana with an architect as guide, we got to our hotel - really surprisingly nice - at about 4:30. Just enough time for a quick nap and dressing for dinner. My car was a 1951 Pontiac convertible, bright tulip yellow. So much fun. Our classic cars took us to another Palador, La California. Fabulous ropa vieja, lobster, snapper and guava along with cuba libras. I've decided I don't really like cuba libras or mojitos so I'll try a local beer tomorrow maybe.