fifteen days to departure...

free couch

I am sitting on the dilapidated couch in our living room, a couch, which, if you're interested, we need to get rid of before we leave, listening to the crows as they fly up Fifth Avenue. What kind of sounds will we hear from our rooms in Thailand, Cambodia, Vietnam, Loas…?  What will we see? Who will we meet? Will I come back a changed woman like I did when I backpacked around Australia so long ago?

I hope that I manage to contribute to these places in some way. The way I know they will contribute to me. I don’t mean to sound like a do-gooder cheese-ball but I do wish to make an impact in some kind of positive way and not just take from them. I suppose we will be enriching the economies of every place we visit but does that count? It seems too obvious.

When we were in Cuba and we wanted to get from Havana to Pinar del Rio, we took the “chicken bus”. It was rusted out, sweaty, and packed. I could look out my window or if I got tired of holding my head up I could rest and watch the road go by between my feet. If bandits attacked (unlikely- Cuba is super safe) I could slide off my seat and get away via my own private escape hatch. I didn’t have to worry too much about all that though because as soon as I sat down I discovered that my seat was broken and I spent the next three hours trying to hold myself upright in order to prevent landing my head in the lap of the passenger behind me, a very shy young boy with a chicken… He might not have had a chicken.

When it came time to get back to Havana we were all set to take the chicken bus again but then someone told us, maybe a guide book, that it was better to take the more expensive Viazul buses. As “rich” tourists it was our responsibility to contribute to the struggling economy in the best possible way. This made sense to us and so we rode the Viazul. It was just like home, clean, air-conditioned, onboard facilities. Boring. 

The ride to Pinar del Rio made for a great story, several great stories. The bus driver stopped in the middle of the highway a few times in order to say hi to a relative or friend who happened to be going by in the other direction. He pulled over so people could get off the bus and pee on the side of the road.  All the business with my seat. I can’t remember anything about the Viazul other than it was called the Viazul and it looked just like one of the Greyhound buses at home. Yawn.

I guess it is about striking a balance. With the Viazul we contributed, by the book, slightly more economically but we didn’t get much out of it. The chicken bus, on the other hand, was a totally enriching experience for which we paid very little. But we learned so much more about Cuba and how the people really live. We brought our dollars to the little markets along the way and made connections.  We stayed with Dilma, a cousin of someone we met while getting our tickets for the chicken bus. We brought those memories home with us and shared them with our friends. Some were inspired to go and experience Cuba for themselves. I am not sure they would have been so interested in the country if all we had were stories of things that were, “just like home”.

Baby please don't go!

We have fifteen days before we leave. There is a lot to do. Get rid of that couch, pack, stock up on kitty litter. 

Kitty litter, oh jeez, I am going to miss our little Delilah when we're gone. I know she will be in good hands, thanks B, but man am I ever going to miss her. A few days ago we gave her some wet food in order to suck up and celebrate that she turned 17. You guys we didn’t have a cat birthday party we just gave her the wet food –settle down. Ever since she got that food she has been yelling at us and devising new ways of disturbing our sleep. I think she may be punishing us in advance for leaving her for so long. Sigh.