I'm still working on getting into the Great White groove. I've been back in Canada for a little over a week but part of my mind is still walking in sunshine in Cuba, where I spent the last half of October. I was welcomed back home warmly by my hubby and pets but coldly by the climate.
On my second day here, trying to wade through the virtual mountain of e-mail, the power went out, the temperature dropped and it began to snow briskly. I couldn't help but think that, in Cuba, when the power goes out (as it frequently does), at least you don't freeze to your chair. I lit a fire and coped. Praise be to the coffee gods or goddesses for thermal carafes.
My most recent trip to my second home, Marea del Portillo, in the Granma province of Cuba, was so full of adventures, activities and interesting encounters that it's hard to know where to begin. Perhaps I'll just follow the musical advice of Julie Andrews as Maria in "The Sound of Music" - to start at the very beginning because it's a very good place to start. (Everybody sing along!)
In the wee dark hours of Oct. 13, the posse gathered at Pearson, Toronto's international airport. Forty-two women boarded the Sunwing plane and jetted off to Cuba. Destination: Club Amigo Marea del Portillo. Goal: all-girl fun! (No rude remarks from the testosterone department, please.) This was the inaugural All-Girl Posse trip to Cuba, which I expect to become an annual October activity. By the time we'd arrived, our ranks had swelled to 45; we adopted a woman and her two daughters who were pals of another posse member and just happened to be booked into the same resort that week.
The flight itself was relatively uneventful, our arrival at the Manzanillo airport was filled with the usual humid chaos and, in short order, the first adventure began. This involved my bicycle going on a journey of its own. It got to go for a ride on top of a Lada and visit a Cuban home! Apparently, while I was indisposed (in the baño), my bike box had been spewed forth onto the luggage carousel and subsequently disappeared. In its stead, a bedraggled-looking box with another woman's name on it stood in the arrivals lobby, forlorn and unclaimed. The search was on!
While the security guards were looking around and shrugging, some of my posse rushed in and reported that they'd seen a box with my name on it being loaded onto a car that hastily drove off. Of course, I thought, my bike box - which had been neatly taped together by the Algonquin Outfitters bike shop lads - would look like more of a prize than that other ratty box with its peeling red duct tape.
We tracked down the woman whose name was on that unappealing box and she explained that she had brought it for her son's friend, whom she didn't really know. Since she would be staying at the same resort, we agreed that she would try to contact the intended recipient, via her son in Canada, and endeavor to arrange a swap. I would, in effect, hold her bike for ransom. In order to promote international peace and good will, we decided to believe that the gentlemen with the Lada had erroneously taken my bike box and, naturally, would want to set things right. (I was not feeling as optimistic as I sounded.)
However, that was indeed the case! Before the bus had gotten very far out of town, the box-bedecked Lada caught up and flagged us down. The bike owner-to-be was very keen to exchange - and he hadn't even opened the box! When he got home, he explained, he looked in through a handle hole and saw Frisbees. If there were Frisbees inside, he knew his "special things" would not be in that box, he said. (Note to self: always pack Frisbees with your bike...sort of like companion planting.)
Soon, we were on the road again, smiling broadly and clinking cans of cerveza. Then the bus broke down....
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Even in paradise there can be strife
PLEASE NOTE: I wrote the original bones of this posting while in Cuba and, since returning to Canada, have edited and added to it. My good friend Linda, who was with me for the second week of my visit commented that there seemed to be an air of sadness among the local people she met. Yes, despite everyone's best efforts to be gracious hosts and to make sure the tourists had a pleasant time, there were good reasons why many hearts were not as light and smiles were not as broad as usual. This community was dealing with a triple-header of tragedy and loss. I respect them all the more for not letting it completely overwhelm them, for dancing anyway, with spirit.
This visit has been an interesting ride – and it isn't over yet! Mid-way through my second week, I am writing this on the balcony of my cabana, monster mug of cappuccino at my side, as the sun rises over the mangroves and the birds begin to dance and sing.
For all the good and positive things that have happened, the pendulum has also swung to the negative side. Bad things can happen anywhere. Last night, at the weekly Pilon street dance, my friends and I learned that there had been a murder shortly before we arrived; the party went on. Blood splatters on the floor of the open-air bar would soon blend with spilled beer and street dirt. The police had not closed the bar or sealed it off for further investigation. There was no need – there had been many witnesses, so they already had their man. Besides, the tourists were arriving for the evening.
Shit happens everywhere, in Canada and in Cuba, in small towns and large cities. Pilon is a “village”of close to 30,000 but it feels much, much smaller. People are involved in each others' lives in more profound way than in most North American communities; many smaller towns I have lived in don't feel this close-knit. It is easy to get to know people here, even peripherally.
During my last holiday here, I visited the home of a lifeguard at the Marea del Portillo hotel – a brother of the murdered man, who was also a lifeguard there. More significantly for me, the man who stabbed him to death had helped me and my amiga when we needed transportation back to the resort one oppressively hot afternoon.
Nobody is all bad, nor all good. In this case, from what I have heard, I have to wonder if the man who committed this publicly violent act was mentally ill – but please keep in mind that this is only a guess, my personal assumption. When he was graciously helping my friend and me, I felt a slight undercurrent of something I couldn't quite put my finger on. Even though he was in no way immpolite or threatening to us, we kept our guard up and did not invite him to share our company any further, once the resort was in sight.
Apparently, this man had many problems and alcohol probably fueled his volatility on this unhappy Saturday night. From what I have heard, there were bad feelings between these two men and it was not something that involved tourists. It is not unexpected that fights occur at bars; that happens everywhere. But, in this community, it is a shock that it would come to this.
Unfortunately, this was not the first death that occurred this past week. Earlier, a child had been killed beneath the wheels of a tractor and wagon, near Mota. As is common, some people, were using an ancient farm tractor as transportation. The tractor hit an unavoidable bump and jolted the trailer so hard that it caused the mother to lose her grip on the child she was holding. I can't imagine the horror. The family will be reeling for a long time, as will many families in the area for many reasons.
In the preceding weeks, there have been other reasons for tears, mostly pertaining to the unusual amount of rain that deluged this normally arid area. Several homes were damaged or completely destroyed by flooding. Roads and streambeds are still in disarray. It will take a long time to repair or rebuild everything, because supplies are hard to get here and it is a very poor region.
Yesterday morning, two friends and I hiked up to a waterfall above the Marea del Portillo village to do an informal water ceremony. I had brought a small jar of sacred water from Huntsville, my home town; it had been blessed during a Water Festival in June, at the start of the G-8 Summit hosted in Muskoka. We added this special water to the stream connected to the reservoir that feeds the village. My wish, in doing this, was that the community would be blessed and protected. I should have saved some for Pilon, and for Mota.
Today, in Pilon, there will be a children's carnival. A little metal ferris wheel and other rides were already set up last night. The carnival equipment has seen better days. Most of the once-bright paint has peeled off, leaving only dull hints of tints, if there is any color at all. The children won't care what color the ride is. They will still laugh, play and be happy.
Life goes on, around and around. Some say that one can't truly experience joy without understanding sorrow. The ride continues through sunshine and rain. The dance goes on.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
This visit has been an interesting ride – and it isn't over yet! Mid-way through my second week, I am writing this on the balcony of my cabana, monster mug of cappuccino at my side, as the sun rises over the mangroves and the birds begin to dance and sing.
For all the good and positive things that have happened, the pendulum has also swung to the negative side. Bad things can happen anywhere. Last night, at the weekly Pilon street dance, my friends and I learned that there had been a murder shortly before we arrived; the party went on. Blood splatters on the floor of the open-air bar would soon blend with spilled beer and street dirt. The police had not closed the bar or sealed it off for further investigation. There was no need – there had been many witnesses, so they already had their man. Besides, the tourists were arriving for the evening.
Shit happens everywhere, in Canada and in Cuba, in small towns and large cities. Pilon is a “village”of close to 30,000 but it feels much, much smaller. People are involved in each others' lives in more profound way than in most North American communities; many smaller towns I have lived in don't feel this close-knit. It is easy to get to know people here, even peripherally.
During my last holiday here, I visited the home of a lifeguard at the Marea del Portillo hotel – a brother of the murdered man, who was also a lifeguard there. More significantly for me, the man who stabbed him to death had helped me and my amiga when we needed transportation back to the resort one oppressively hot afternoon.
Nobody is all bad, nor all good. In this case, from what I have heard, I have to wonder if the man who committed this publicly violent act was mentally ill – but please keep in mind that this is only a guess, my personal assumption. When he was graciously helping my friend and me, I felt a slight undercurrent of something I couldn't quite put my finger on. Even though he was in no way immpolite or threatening to us, we kept our guard up and did not invite him to share our company any further, once the resort was in sight.
Apparently, this man had many problems and alcohol probably fueled his volatility on this unhappy Saturday night. From what I have heard, there were bad feelings between these two men and it was not something that involved tourists. It is not unexpected that fights occur at bars; that happens everywhere. But, in this community, it is a shock that it would come to this.
Unfortunately, this was not the first death that occurred this past week. Earlier, a child had been killed beneath the wheels of a tractor and wagon, near Mota. As is common, some people, were using an ancient farm tractor as transportation. The tractor hit an unavoidable bump and jolted the trailer so hard that it caused the mother to lose her grip on the child she was holding. I can't imagine the horror. The family will be reeling for a long time, as will many families in the area for many reasons.
In the preceding weeks, there have been other reasons for tears, mostly pertaining to the unusual amount of rain that deluged this normally arid area. Several homes were damaged or completely destroyed by flooding. Roads and streambeds are still in disarray. It will take a long time to repair or rebuild everything, because supplies are hard to get here and it is a very poor region.
Yesterday morning, two friends and I hiked up to a waterfall above the Marea del Portillo village to do an informal water ceremony. I had brought a small jar of sacred water from Huntsville, my home town; it had been blessed during a Water Festival in June, at the start of the G-8 Summit hosted in Muskoka. We added this special water to the stream connected to the reservoir that feeds the village. My wish, in doing this, was that the community would be blessed and protected. I should have saved some for Pilon, and for Mota.
Today, in Pilon, there will be a children's carnival. A little metal ferris wheel and other rides were already set up last night. The carnival equipment has seen better days. Most of the once-bright paint has peeled off, leaving only dull hints of tints, if there is any color at all. The children won't care what color the ride is. They will still laugh, play and be happy.
Life goes on, around and around. Some say that one can't truly experience joy without understanding sorrow. The ride continues through sunshine and rain. The dance goes on.
Monday, October 4, 2010
I'm going to Cuba with a posse of 42 women!
In just over a week, I'm off to Cuba once again. This trip will be a bit different from my others; I'm heading up a group of 42 amigas. I think we will create a stir, to say the least, in modest little Club Amigo Marea del Portillo.
We will be occupying the majority of the cabana units so, if we were to vote on it democratically, we could take over the place! Or, we could start a peaceful social revolution based on smiling. I'll be doing a great deal of that, and I have a feeling the entirety of this group will too. They seem like quite an amiable lot.
I call the gaggle the "All-Girl Posse," and it all got started quite organically. After my trip this past spring, I was raving about Marea del Portillo - the scenic beauty, the relaxed atmosphere, the wonderful people - and I was already picking the dates for my next trip. People seemed receptive to my yapping, and to viewing the online slide shows I'd created, so I kept talking...and thinking.
Last October, I'd traveled there with three gal-pals and met a set of sisters (as in actual siblings, not like the "sisterhood" of the traveling swimsuit), whom we enjoyed hanging out with. It can be quite a hoot to hang with fellow females (yes, I know that sounds a bit oxymoronic but I'm sticking with the phrase because I like the aliteration). On my first trip to Marea with a different gal-pal, we'd met a whole contingent of women from Novar, near Huntsville, and the joke became that I had to go to Cuba to meet my neighbors. They were dubbed the Novarians.
Well, some of those same Novarians were kean as beans to go back. We started scheming, and I decided to put the word out that I was organizing a women-only trip to Cuba - who wants to join me? I thought, if I'm lucky, I'll get a dozen or so and that will be fine. It would be a minor economic boost in a community that needs it and we'd have a lot of fun.
There are now 43 of us going. Word of mouth advertising rocks, eh?!
As the numbers grew from 10 to 20 to 30-something, I began having men offer to wear dresses and join us. I had to use the N-word...the one I often struggle with...NO. It came easily this time. However, one guy was particularly persistent. Beyond feminine attire, he offered to lead writing workshops. Hmmm. The idea of writing in Cuba had been coming up in other ways too. It was worth some serious thought.
Once the ranks of the All-Girl Posse swelled to 40-ish, I felt confident in saying it would become an annual event. The concept seemed to have legs. And so it shall be: the posse will ride each October.
Since I'm attached to the idea of having relatively cheap holidays, I've been traveling to Cuba in the shoulder seasons - fall and spring. With the women's trip occupying the fall slot, that left the spring open for writers of all ilks and chromosomes. So, my writerly pal Martin Avery and I are tentatively planning a "Write in Cuba" retreat in April 2011. The exact dates have yet to be confirmed but will probably be around Easter.
As I envision it, this spring fling trip will have a different theme each year. Writing will be the first but, looking ahead, art may well be the theme for 2012, possibly followed up by yoga or photography. I should point out that, with Martin as our fearless leader, workshops will not be purely about writing; they will likely have a Zen edge, there may be a dollop of Reiki-like massage or walking meditation, and there will definitely be more than a dash of laughter. Also, this trip will not be purely for writers. Spouses or other preferred traveling companions need not dress up as writers to sign on; there will be no requisite for participating in the workshops that will be offered during the week. It will just be a creative blast, and bunches of fun for all.
Well, there you have it. I've come out of the closet as tour leader. It's in my blood. But, there is another hook for me and, possibly, for you as a potential traveler. I am planning to set myself up as the booking agent, working directly with Sunwing rather than going through a travel agency. The main reason for this is so that I can direct a small percentage of the fee into the fund I am building to help the people of the communities near the resort, Marea del Portillo and Pilon, who are struggling to survive. I certainly don't begrudge a travel agency it's cut but, by doing the booking myself, I will be able to assist more people in Cuba, as well as keeping the cost low.
For those of you who have noticed the brightly colored "Donate" button in the right-hand column, that's what it's about - adding to the account I've created to fund projects that will help Cuban people in need. (For more information about this, please read my earlier post: "Want to help me help...?") The PayPal button is intended for direct donations and, in the future, for trip bookings.
I'll certainly keep you posted, via postings, as things progress with planning. Meanwhile, if you're interested in joining me on a themed spring trip or becoming part of an All-Girl Posse in the fall, please leave a comment at the end of this post or send me an e-mail.
Thanks for reading! Now wish me happy birthday.
We will be occupying the majority of the cabana units so, if we were to vote on it democratically, we could take over the place! Or, we could start a peaceful social revolution based on smiling. I'll be doing a great deal of that, and I have a feeling the entirety of this group will too. They seem like quite an amiable lot.
I call the gaggle the "All-Girl Posse," and it all got started quite organically. After my trip this past spring, I was raving about Marea del Portillo - the scenic beauty, the relaxed atmosphere, the wonderful people - and I was already picking the dates for my next trip. People seemed receptive to my yapping, and to viewing the online slide shows I'd created, so I kept talking...and thinking.
Last October, I'd traveled there with three gal-pals and met a set of sisters (as in actual siblings, not like the "sisterhood" of the traveling swimsuit), whom we enjoyed hanging out with. It can be quite a hoot to hang with fellow females (yes, I know that sounds a bit oxymoronic but I'm sticking with the phrase because I like the aliteration). On my first trip to Marea with a different gal-pal, we'd met a whole contingent of women from Novar, near Huntsville, and the joke became that I had to go to Cuba to meet my neighbors. They were dubbed the Novarians.
Well, some of those same Novarians were kean as beans to go back. We started scheming, and I decided to put the word out that I was organizing a women-only trip to Cuba - who wants to join me? I thought, if I'm lucky, I'll get a dozen or so and that will be fine. It would be a minor economic boost in a community that needs it and we'd have a lot of fun.
There are now 43 of us going. Word of mouth advertising rocks, eh?!
As the numbers grew from 10 to 20 to 30-something, I began having men offer to wear dresses and join us. I had to use the N-word...the one I often struggle with...NO. It came easily this time. However, one guy was particularly persistent. Beyond feminine attire, he offered to lead writing workshops. Hmmm. The idea of writing in Cuba had been coming up in other ways too. It was worth some serious thought.
Once the ranks of the All-Girl Posse swelled to 40-ish, I felt confident in saying it would become an annual event. The concept seemed to have legs. And so it shall be: the posse will ride each October.
Since I'm attached to the idea of having relatively cheap holidays, I've been traveling to Cuba in the shoulder seasons - fall and spring. With the women's trip occupying the fall slot, that left the spring open for writers of all ilks and chromosomes. So, my writerly pal Martin Avery and I are tentatively planning a "Write in Cuba" retreat in April 2011. The exact dates have yet to be confirmed but will probably be around Easter.
As I envision it, this spring fling trip will have a different theme each year. Writing will be the first but, looking ahead, art may well be the theme for 2012, possibly followed up by yoga or photography. I should point out that, with Martin as our fearless leader, workshops will not be purely about writing; they will likely have a Zen edge, there may be a dollop of Reiki-like massage or walking meditation, and there will definitely be more than a dash of laughter. Also, this trip will not be purely for writers. Spouses or other preferred traveling companions need not dress up as writers to sign on; there will be no requisite for participating in the workshops that will be offered during the week. It will just be a creative blast, and bunches of fun for all.
Well, there you have it. I've come out of the closet as tour leader. It's in my blood. But, there is another hook for me and, possibly, for you as a potential traveler. I am planning to set myself up as the booking agent, working directly with Sunwing rather than going through a travel agency. The main reason for this is so that I can direct a small percentage of the fee into the fund I am building to help the people of the communities near the resort, Marea del Portillo and Pilon, who are struggling to survive. I certainly don't begrudge a travel agency it's cut but, by doing the booking myself, I will be able to assist more people in Cuba, as well as keeping the cost low.
For those of you who have noticed the brightly colored "Donate" button in the right-hand column, that's what it's about - adding to the account I've created to fund projects that will help Cuban people in need. (For more information about this, please read my earlier post: "Want to help me help...?") The PayPal button is intended for direct donations and, in the future, for trip bookings.
I'll certainly keep you posted, via postings, as things progress with planning. Meanwhile, if you're interested in joining me on a themed spring trip or becoming part of an All-Girl Posse in the fall, please leave a comment at the end of this post or send me an e-mail.
Thanks for reading! Now wish me happy birthday.
Saturday, October 2, 2010
POEM: Humanity
Here's a little poem that bubbled forth this morning. Although it is not directly about Cuba, it was inspired by the humanitarian projects I'm beginning to establish there, so I thought it fair to include it here! The idea I was playing with is the concept of being passionate, in a generalized way, about something rather than an individual.
Humanity
I want to kiss you ‘til your head spins
and hug you ‘til you faint.
I want to teach you dirty words
and dance around you like a Maypole,
my ribbons ruffling your hair,
Love is a merry-go-round
and I am on the fastest horse.
Love is a widening circle
and you are the biggest sphere.
- J.R.C.
Oct. 2, 2010
Humanity
I want to kiss you ‘til your head spins
and hug you ‘til you faint.
I want to teach you dirty words
and dance around you like a Maypole,
my ribbons ruffling your hair,
Love is a merry-go-round
and I am on the fastest horse.
Love is a widening circle
and you are the biggest sphere.
- J.R.C.
Oct. 2, 2010
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