…except not really on the fish, since that was pretty disgusting.
Cuba wakes up early and slow, and some mornings so do I.
I went for a walk around our little neighborhood to say goodbye early on Friday, and realized how pretty Cuba is in the morning light. Everyone knows Cuba for the blistering, gorgeous midday sun on the beaches, or the nightlife. I wonder how many people know Cuba for the bright stars you can see so clearly, even in Havana. But early morning? Not many people see that side of Cuba.
This morning was strange and quiet. No party, no music. No street musicians, no peanut lady yelling, “Mani! Mani!”
I take the long way around the fountain, but the niños aren’t there; they’re in school. Alex isn’t around either–he’s probably getting Diyani ready for school, or headed out to work. I head towards the Residencia, walking down the Malecón. I’m going to miss this place, with its slow pace and full personality. I look up at that long view of our edificio and the walk to Habana Vieja, and I become vaguely aware that I’m separating from the Americans soon, too. I know I’ll be back here someday, but without them it won’t be the–
In my reflective reverie, fell flat on my face in some algae and ocean slime. As I struggled to get up, I slid and fell again, sprawled out on hands and knees.
I laugh at myself, amazed I’m alone in that act.
You just couldn’t let me off easy, could you Havana?
‘ta luego, Cuba.