Havana, Cuba – I`m in a movie…
That is why this Varadero beach is DA best for me; kilometres of pure white, tinniest, softest, shining sand going far into the shallow water. No fears there, just complete relaxation
I enjoyed walks on this beach, and the last time I was there, I discovered that running barefoot on the wet sand is so much better than the running in the shoes farther away from the water. In the mornings, before the heat, oh I loved it!
I loved lounging by the water, mostly reading a book and listening to my iPod, sipping “Cristal” or Cuba Libre – depending on the mood of the day. A few times I got lucky to find pretty awesome sea shells washed out on the beach, and one time I was chasing little hummingbirds to catch them with my camera (I have a thing for birdies, you know.)
But all this can make me happy for three days tops, after that, I need to get movin’! I cannot be hanging on the beach all day, it drives me crazy.
Sure, there are all kinds of trips you can do in Cuba, most of them again are happening on the water, but for me, the choice would always be a visit to Havana.
The whole life there, like captured in a time capsule, untouched, unspoiled by the outside world, makes you really feel like you are in a movie from the 60-ies, my favourite ones. I love the imperfectly perfect architecture of the city, those buildings that are even more beautiful now with all the roughness that missed years of attention. The most amazing world`s exhibition of old-timers still rolling down the streets!
Here and there you`ll see locals fixing the car, looking under its hood, and you can`t help but think, oh man is there ANYTHING left in there? But those are still moving, just like the Cubans; jolly, hard-working people, many with strong educational background. People who do not lack fire in their souls and desire for life.
And yes, for us, tourists, it may seem like a movie, but not so much for these people, so every time you choose this beach destination over some other, you are supporting their livelihood, and I am glad I did that many times.
Oh I`ll have lots to tell you and show you in pictures about Cuba, so be sure to check back in, or subscribe to be notified about the new post. For now, I`m leaving you with one of my dad`s oil on canvas paintings describing the streets of Havana… or you wanna beach view instead? OK – both it is!
When in Dominican,
if you are told
not to leave the resort
THEN DON’T!
I was laughing ALL the time, to the point of crying and laughing. And running to pee! I mean – to pee in time…
As soon as we got off the plane, it smelled like we were going to have a good time.
It`s not that we didn`t want to go see anything outside of the hotel grounds, oh believe me we did, but, WE WERE THE ONLY ONES! Can you imagine – in such huge resort with so many people; nobody was interested to go for a tour to Santo Domingo, the capital of this country. Promised to be a picturesque, historical city, one of the oldest in the Caribbean. As soon as we arrived there, we signed up for it, only to be phoned and informed two days later that the tour had been cancelled as we were the only ones interested in.
Hugely disappointed we had to look for fun elsewhere. Sure, the beach was awesome, white sand, palm trees, maybe even a little bit wild, which was cool. The grounds of this enormous five star resort were gorgeous too; we walked around a lot, sometimes took a resort train, but eventually abandoned it, because the driver wouldn`t let my sister “try driving the train just for a little while” as per request… She had to be satisfied with the picture only, but as a sign of a protest, we walked for the rest of the days. And that was awesome too; visit one pool, stop by the other, have a drink here, have a drink there, find coconuts, talk to flamingos, eat, check on the internet signal at the internet cafe, dip in the sea, eat again, horse around.
It was really great, all of it, except for the music. After couple of days of the same; OMG, we couldn`t hear another bloody tone of that merengue or bachata or whatever it was. Finally, the party night on the beach came about, we ended up negotiating with the resort “D.J.” to play AT LEAST some house from our iPod. We got only few tracks. Anyway, we jumped around in the sand and had a blast.
But we were only satisfied with these activities for some time. We got that itch, an itch of getting out of that resort. And unlike Cuba, which is perfectly safe to go around by yourself, we`ve been warn to NOT EVER leave the resort here, unless is an organized tour. We made friends with Cesar, tall, black, handsome guy who worked at the reception of the hotel, whom we asked about the happenings outside of the resort and the best way to move around. We were looking for some local art place and learned from him that there was a flea market with such content not too far away. He also offered transportation via his friend (?) (or something of the sort as far as I can remember), but that sounded fishy, so we asked about any bus transportation instead. He said there was one going from a resort, pointed on a station within the resort and its schedule.
Yaaay! We got so excited, we finally had a plan!
The next day, we came to a bus station 15 min before the bus supposed to be there as per schedule. We were waiting and waiting. And waiting. Until waiting became worth capturing on camera. Two hours probably. In that July heat. But we wanted to get to that flea market so bad.
OK, that was it – we had enough! Decided that we would – listen to this now – WALK to the flea market. And so we did.
We left the resort, we left the safe grounds behind. I just remember wide dirt road, everything white and yellowish, the air, the road and everything around. Dusty. Too hot. We are holding hands, walking. My sister idioting as per usual. The next moment, she literally jumps on me with the scream, pushing us both towards the middle of the road. And I`m thinking what joke will she spill now, when she started shaking, terrified, pulling my hand to walk faster, almost running, not looking back. I had a face with million question marks around it, when she finally was able to speak. “OMG Olja, I almost stepped on a freaking snake!”
Then we both started running in flip-flops and when we finally caught some breath, and no snake was in site behind us, she started telling me. Apparently, she made a step, and as her foot was going down, she happened to look down, and saw that she was about to step on a curled up snake, the same yellowish color as the dirt road, and in the last minute, by jumping on me, she managed to miss it. Holy F**K!!! And then I got scared.
After surviving the danger, we arrived to flea market pretty fast, found just lovely hand crafted art and souvenirs, definitely took a bus back, and were so happy staying in our resort for the rest of vacation. The snake, of course, became the center of all jokes for the next couple of days.
This was just a snippet of vacation at Punta Cana, subscribe to read more of what is to come.
Crocodile crossing in Florida
However, luckily for me, I am not the type of a person to lie around on the beach all day anyway, so I enjoyed exploring the place instead. Even though I didn`t get to see everything I wanted in Miami, because it wasn`t really the touristic season and many attractions were closed for visitors, there were really cool spots which stayed memorable to me.
I`ll take you to the Venetian Pool, established at 1924, and if you compare the photographs they have displayed there, the look of it all, was very much the same as it is today. And I love that, like you arrived at a place where the time has stopped.
Also, one haven`t been to Miami if the visit to the Ocean Drive and the Art Deco District were missed. Lots going on here. On one side – the beach, on the other side – the line of hotels, bars and restaurants soaked in the sounds of Latin music all along the street. I saw many photographs of the Versace Palace taken; once the only residential house in the street, until the horrific crime story took place, on the steps of those entrance stairs.
People dressed up, people in swim suits, people posing, people training, people and their cars, people in love. And everything is flowing, has its own particular, unique vibe.
I saw those houses on Palm Beach, their gardens and attached boats, and then I was wondering which one of those mansions was renovated by Vanilla Ice! I liked Fort Lauderdale, specifically one exquisite gallery, where I bought so much original, handcrafted art, regretting after for not getting even more.
Seldom Seen Gallery, look it up if you are going there.
But the place that totally won me over, place that makes me wanna go back again, is the Key West. The entire drive to there is something to experience. Going over 400 little islands connected with that longest fragmented bridge in the world, is just spectacular. It is supposed to be about 11 km long…hm… back then that seemed long, but now, observing the distances as a runner, this looks like a piece of cake to run! Hey! There is an idea!!! What a thrill would be to run over that bridge; gorgeous water views on both sides… Wait, wait, waaaaait a minute; now, as I am writing this, I do recall seeing some article about marathon, or some other race, that actually does happen over there, starting at the Key West in the early dawn (to avoid the heat I guess), and goes over the bridge. I definitely need to look into this!
(I just don`t know what to do about that traffic sign I saw on this road, a “crocodile crossing” warning…)
On this southern most point of the continental U.S., where the chickens rule the town, crossing your path in a store, or at the bar, I fell in love with the old, historic houses and their lush gardens. I liked one in particular, not because it was the prettiest or the fanciest one, it actually wasn`t, but because how it made me feel – comfortable. It was the Hemingway`s house.
He had bought this house only because it was located just across the light house, an important navigation tool, which was very useful for him during those late nights when he would leave the Sloppy Joe bar, pretty drunk, in the effort to get back home. I too thought that was a brilliant idea!
He wrote some of his most amazing work here, including my favourite “For Whom The Bell Tolls”. I saw where he wrote it; it was actually on the top floor of a little cottage behind the house, which had lots of windows, and two balcony doors, but still subdued atmosphere because of the old shatters and trees around. It felt serene inside, airy, quiet, tucked away, nothing but a place to write, a lounge chair, some books in modest book shelves, accessorized further with the few pieces of art and souvenirs. And the house was like this too. Rather simple, bright, open, summery, and vintage of course. Long after, I was thinking about; the marble in his bathroom, the tile work, the elaborate baseboards and that green colored patio. Many of his pictures were exhibited there… man, was he ever hot!
So much more to tell about this lovely town, that somehow reminded me also of little towns in Greece, maybe the vibrant Duval Street the most.
Well, it wasn`t easy to leave this place, but hey, I had a meeting with some alligators from the Everglades to go to!
Tour in the GatorPark on an airboat was something to experience, for sure. Captain Ron gave us a ride, introduced to us Lilly, Smiley and Tri-pod. Tri-pod has one leg missing; apparently mature alligators don`t like to be around each-other, so that happens when they are…
Then, Captain Ron parked us in the middle of this swamp, turned off the engine and got off the boat. He jumped in the water, knee high, and called people to join him.
“Ahahahaha”, I thought “what a great joke!” Apparently there were few brave ones in the group. As they were putting their arms down in the water, searching for clay, I couldn`t help but only see the tall grass, water, and BUNCH OF HIDDEN WILD LIFE!
(Everybody returned from the trip safe.)
