I stare at Che. The iconic poster hangs on the wall behind the official’s desk. It’s hot and stuffy in the office; air-conditioning hasn’t hit this part of Cuba. Was I insane, or just stupidly naive about my hare-brained scheme?
The Poder Popular fellow stops his search. He sits back and looks at me.
“Maybe you’ll have to stay here in Cuba.”
He laughs. “I can’t find the gas ration coupons.” Continue reading “Helping out in Cuba – Soap, Shampoo & Che – Part 4”
The transport truck drops us off beside a path that cuts through a field at the foot of the mountains. We skirt around a hefty bull grazing near the woods, and in about 20 minutes we arrive at a small, wood-framed house, half hidden amongst the trees. Continue reading “Dance on an Empty Highway: Part 3”
At each stop on this trip, the state of the washrooms deteriorates at an inversely proportionate rate as the scenery grows more spectacular.
Claudia has suddenly sat up at the edge of the bed.
“I have to go to the bathroom and I’m too scared to go out there by myself.”
That makes two of us. Continue reading “Dance on an Empty Highway: Part 2”