Cuba Day 7 – Mountains and Cave Discos and Me, The Town Drunk

After just a week in Cuba I’d taken a hell of a beating: alone, humiliated, skint, sunburned and stupid. With the safety of hindsight, those were special days, the kind of days where you really learn about yourself. To me, those are the most valuable of all. Oh, and in case you haven’t spotted a trend by now, rest assured it gets worse still. Enjoy!

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Last week, on a sunny Thursday evening after work, I’d had a couple of beers with friends who were heading off to watch the rugby. I said goodbye, and hopped on a bus home. I was on the back seat and watched the bus slowly fill with people. An old woman stepped on, and headed straight for my back seat. She asked me if I minded her sitting next to me, and I smiled and shifted along to give her more room. I didn’t pay her much attention. She was wearing a pink t-shirt, and had her hair in a ponytail. She didn’t look very old, for an old person. Continue reading