Note: This post is brought to you by our friends Eric and Shauna who went to Cuba for two weeks. We are not lawless outlaws and did not go during our two weeks off the grid but thought you guys would be interested in
our their story anyway.
Our casa particular owner, Rosie in Habana, set us up to be taken care of by her parents, Ruth and Mario, in their casa in Trinidad.
I was super excited. A carnival was in town and I was stoked because this was the first time anything substantial was happening in a city we were visiting. The plan was: First attack the historic colonial area and then move on to the madness of “Carnaval”.
It was noon and the strong, Caribbean sun seemed to really be at peak that day. We meandered our way through the cobblestone streets, through colorful, restored colonial buildings. The only thing I ever have to complain about with colonial cities is the lack of shade that can be found midday. Buildings, buildings everywhere and nowhere to hide.
We soon made our way into Carnaval and had no clue what we were in for. Stalls selling popcorn, chicharrones, snowcones, bring your own cup $.25 beer lined the streets. Live music came pouring out of the speakers and the contagious songs made people dance in the middle of the heat, pitchers of beer in tow. The passion of Cubans is not to be understated.
In the swirl of all the excitement, the world seemed to have started it’s own dance as well and we headed home in a slight delirium.
As we lay in bed, in the bare essentials, as the wall unit and desk fan were all on high – it hit us.
Shaun-A immediately ran to the bathroom.
Shaun-A can count the amount of times (s)he has gotten sick like that on one hand. Me on the other hand…
Shaun-A comes out of the bathroom with a defeated look on his(her) face as I rush into the bathroom behind him(her).
Can I tell you how much it sucks to share one toilet with two people who have it coming out of both ends? One toilet. Four holes. You do the math.
This cycle of trading continued on for what seemed like an eternity. In the delirium of sickness I started thinking…
Out of all places we had to get this violently ill, why did it have to be the place that we have no contact with family and no way to get money?
Oh God. What if I go to the medic and we don’t have enough money to pay for it since we can’t withdraw anything from the ATM or use our credit cards?
Think. I’m. Going. To. Die.
At about 4am the puking subsided and Shaun-A and I lie helplessly on the bed. Thank goodness we had out amazing casa particular “mom” Ruth to help us out and nurse us back to health. I couldn’t have imagined what this would have been like had we been in a hostel.
Much to her dismay we really don’t have much to say about Trinidad. So as promised, I highly suggest going there. I hear it is a really rad city with lots to do, things to see, and a crazy ass night life that doesn’t stop. Apparently it also has the best beach on the southern side of Cuba.