Are you seated comfortably?


Have you used the washroom?


Do you have a cold drink in hand? Possibly even a snack?


Excellent! Then you´re ready to start in on this blog posting. It´s sure to be a lengthy one so bear with me, and be prepared for marathon levels of text, pictures, and the like.


Now then, let´s get a start on the next installment of the Wandering Newfie´s blog. So I will be covering Toronto when I get my pictures in order. Honestly, I can´t recall what I did there, as I didn´t have access to a computer at the time so my notes are a little off. I´ll be sure to update when I get to the pictures. So then, I must move on to the land of reasonable rum, great cigars, skinny people, the Royal Palm tree, and of course, Che Guevara himself. If you haven´t figured it out by now, I was visiting the Spanish-speaking island of Cuba. Now, I´ve got about five pages of scratch notes to get through courtesy of Mike Walsh´s amazing moleskin notebooks he gave me, so sit tight and enjoy the ride.

Arriving in Cuba is not what you would expect from any other major port. You would think, based on the levels of tourists and the like that travel to Cuba each year that the airport would be rather large to accommodate such an influx. Unfortunately for travelers, especially those leaving the country, this is not the case at all. To give you an idea, I will compare both when I arrived and when I left. The arrival was the usual, get off the plane, go through security, pick up the bags, and walk out to get your bus. Well, when I say usual, I mean that all of this was within 100m of each other, so it was rather cramped. On the plus side, there was definitely less walking to be done between gates and security and the like, so there´s a positive to everything. Now, on the exit, there was a similar experience. Everything was closely packed together, including the people to be found in the waiting area for the gates. Now, I will remind you that there are only two gates, and the people are packed in like cattle, both standing and sitting. Probably the worst part was the smoking, as it´s legal there, but I won´t dwell on that much. Most of you know already about my disdain for smoking and the like. Needless to say, it was quite an uncomfortable spot to be stationed in either waiting for a flight or coming in from a flight. But, of course, those details are minor when you consider the reasons for coming to Cuba in the first place.

So at the airport, we were picked up by our driver which Mr. Chaffey had arranged. While our driver never spoke much, our short-term tour guide was quite the talker and actually had some pretty good jokes. One concerned two lighted oil rigs which looked surprisingly like the Eiffel Tower in France. He basically said, "This is why we´re a better destination than France, we have two and they only have one!" He kept us well informed and entertained while we rode the bus to our Five Star Hotel on Tryp Peninsula.

I pose a question to the readers now. What comes to mind when you hear the term Five Star Hotel?

Personally, I think of Boca Raton in Florida, a resort for millionaires build by millionares. Or perhaps even a nice Hilton series of hotels. Marble floors, candlelight dinners, bell hops at your beck and call, nothing requested is unavailable.

Well, Tryp Peninsula Hotel did give us some of that. There were some candlelight dinners, and well-dressed servers and staff. The rooms and facilities were immaculately clean all the time, which is definitely a plus. Even the lobby floors were marble, though they do get rather slick when it comes time to actually walk on them. The humidity made it so we Canadians could have a virtual hockey rink in the middle of the lobby from time to time. Just take two steps, slide, and you´ll end up over the stairs and into the dining hall if yuo have enough momentum. Quite fun for those of us with some balance in our toes, but flightfully challenging for the poor lady who fell when we first got there. Even the beach was raked every morning.

Raked, for Pete´s sake! A tractor, with a rake not unlike the ones used for packing snow on the ski hills back home, would tour our section of the beach every morning. I think either they had multiple tractors, or the gentleman had one long night because most of the resorts were done the same way. This made for some beautful soft sand until you hit the firmer, water-swept portion of the beach. Crystal blue water, hammocks underneath the Royal Palm trees, huge conch shells being sold on the beach every morning, and plenty of activities to partake in.

So what, praytell, am I nattering on with about the "Five Star" comment I made earlier. The point I make, is that not everything you see advertised is considered true, or even on a comparible basis. While the facilities were definitely among the four and five star hotels, the rooms among threes and fours, the service, for the majority of services requested, was maybe a three star at best. Unfortunately, the food was also of an attempted five star quality, but was brought up short at about three and a half. But of course, you don´t go to Cuba for the food, or so I now know. Bland would be one way of putting most of the food. I believe I gorged myself on pancakes every day to ensure I wouldn´t be too hungry by the time lunch came to call. And as for desserts, they definitely need to learn how to use more sugar and butter. Oh, of course I wouldn´t have any, due to my incessant and ever present allergies, but my travelling entourage certainly commented on them. And getting back to the service aspect, there were definitely instances where the service was lacking. For my parents in particular, they had a rough time acquiring towels, linens, and some other items I will not go into detail on. It also did not help that one or two of the staff would try and sell you cigars and even Rum on the side. The lifeguard tried to get me on the cigars.

But, while I state that the service was not quite as expected, it certainly wasn´t bad in all aspects. The entertainment commitee, as they shall now be known, were very upbeat and cheery all the time. They organized everything from dance lessons and kids events, all the way to organizing cabaret style dance shows every night with a different theme each time. They even had a Miss Try Peninsula contest later on. Guys, calm down, it wasn´t what you´re thinking. If you wanted to see that kind of scantily clad scenes, you need only to go to one of two places; the beach or the stage. The beach is self-explanatory, and the stage deals with the shows that were put off every night regarless of weather. I should note, that they did an excellent job having the shows inside the lobby when the weather did not cooperate.

Personally, I had no problems at all with the service during my stay. Unfortunately, it was my travelling companions who took the brunt of that blow.

I must mention two individuals in-particular who made the visit to Cuba completely worthwhile. One is Jose, and the other Carlos. I will touch on Carlos first, as he was directly associated with the hotel experience. Two or three nights we had reservations at one of the more fancy restaurants on the resort. The first of which, was rather dissapointing in both service and food content for all. We´ll not dwell on this, as it was the black sheep of my experiences with the fancy restaurants. Dining reservation number two proved far more enjoyable. The food was indeed more palatable, even going so far as being delicious. I believe it was here I had my first dessert at a restaurant in who know how long. The chocolate mousse I was given was certainly the tastiest part of my meal, and finished off a great dinner with a flare of simple style. The atmosphere also helped the dinner along.

In each culture there are various talented individuals and of which Cuba has no shortage. I won´t mention the dancers just yet, as you just need to take in the pictures I have in order to truly appreciate their...ahem...expertise. I´ll actually write about them later, as they do deserve a blog posting all to their own. In fact, I´ll mentin the rest of the shows I took in during my time in Cuba at that point. For now, I´ll metion that both of my dinners were accompanied by live music. The first was a trio, two violins and one guitar. Any piece you could have named, Pachelbel´s Canon, Midnight Sonata, even some showtunes from movies anda the like, and they could play it. One of our party wanted to see if they could play Flight of the Bumblebee, even though we said that it was not appropriate for dinner music. The trio graciously waived it off stating they did not have the sheet music. It was a rather polite way of saying, Screw off, or so we joked later. The second group was a singer and two other musicians of a discipline I cannot recall at the moment, but they wer also quite good. In fact, while the dining hall we were seated in was not overly large, this singer did not need a microphone had the place been twice the size, her vioce was just so powerful. For those of you who know me, you´ll be wondering if I picked up any of their music. Well, yes...yes I did. Both, to be exact. I´ll try playing them when I get home, as the CD players in the room, in my room, did not work as well as I would have liked.

But, back to the matter at hand, Mr. Carlos. He was, honestly, one of the most delightful servers I´ve ever had the chance to have attend me during a meal. Brent, who is normally unmatched in terms of quick wit in our group or travellers, had found an equal, and dare I say, even a better. Carlos could think up retorts and jibes to any of our comments, and of course, Brent certainly had a few of his own to try and stump the gentleman. We were definitely the noisiest table throughout the evening, but by far the most satisfifed. I belive Carlos left with a smile on his face too, after he recieved our gratuities for the evening. If I could, honestly, I would remove him from the country and hire him as head waiter in any restaurant I could think of. He was certainly a high point of my trip to Cuba.

As for our second individual, Jose took on a different role. Half of our party had previous dealings with Jose, as they have been to Cuba before. He graciously acted as our official tour guide on any outings we had, and even cleared up some problems at the hotel when we needed a local tongue to add some color and urgency to our requests. He explained many of the local sights in Havana (or Habana, for those of you reading from the mother country) as well as every spot along the way. He even helped organize a deep see fishing exhibition some of our party went on. I´m not quite sure if Jose organized the Jet-ski outing, but I´ll leave that story for another time. My most memorable experience with Jose was when we were invited to his house for dinner with his family. I cannot express my deepest gratitude to Jose and his family for allowing us to come into their home and partake in a meal with them. While grandpa and grandma were quieter, not having much exposure to English, if any, the rest of the family were certainly animated enough for all of us. You know, if I were to compare it to anywhere in the world, it would have to be both Ireland and Newfoundland. Jose´s family were just, well, inviting and happy. There´s no other way to put it. They were honestly just a great and joyous group of individuals. The family unit that day consisted of:

Jose
Alina (Jose´s Wife)
Harold (Son)
Lisbey (Girlfriend of Harold)
Harley(Son)
Liliana (Girlfriend of harley)
Lucila (The cheery Grandmother)
Jose Ramon (The quiet Grandfather)
Richard (Jose´s Brother)

and

Enya (The fuzzy black dog)

With the six of our party also in the abode, it made for some rather unique seating arrangements, but we were graciously given the seats of honor at the dinner table. And the food! Oh, I´ve not eaten such food in quite some time! There were craquelins (fried pork fat and skin until crispy), white rice, black beans (beautifully salted I might add), fresh squeezed orange and papaya juices (I would have taken it all with me if I could), pineapple slices (ripened to perfection), grated carrots, cabbage, lettuce, cristal beer, tropicola (local coke), water, chocolate cake, flan (blast my new milk intolerance), and of course, the roast pork. Aside from the beer, water, and cola, everything was home made. It really brought me back to Nan´s home cooking from back home. Even my mind was screaming at me to "Eat more", while my stomach was blatantly crying out "We can´t handle any more, back off you goof!" It´s times like those, that I wish I could either take some food with me, or have multiple stomachs like certain bovine critters. If I had to give the meal, experience, and the dinner company a rating out of ten, it would most certainly ber a resounding eleven! The mean was fit for any king, queen, or discerning conniseur, and the company was very inviting in all areas. Even the home felt like a home, properly lived in and surrounded by loving individuals. Jose and Family, if any of you get a chance to come visit in Canada, I will definitely have you at my home, wherever I may be, and I know I speak for the rest of our travelling party. This includes those who could not be with us due to illness, unfortunately. I promise nothing on the cooking scene, however. I will, perhaps, need to get some lesson from Alina on that matter.

Well, aside from a few other odds and ends, this was my experience in Cuba. I will touch on the shows and sights to be seen in a later posting, as I´m sure that this blog has gone on long enough for most readers. I hope it did not feel too rushed or with a lack of flow, but I´ll try to up the standard next posting, as I should have more time and the memories will be clearer when the pictures are available for vewing.

Catch you all later,

Neal Oram