Adios, amigos

Day 23

Dad calls America on the satelite phone, and finds out that it is no problem for us, as we are New Zealanders, and with our filthy socialist state we will not be altered irrevocably by communism. After the 2 hour farewell search, we head off in near perfect conditions at 4pm, and after an overnight sail, the waters over the gulf stream pretty calm.

We arrive in America the next day at about 8am, and dodge heaps of crayfish pots, arriving safely in port. Goodbye Cuba, you funny old country, with your friendly folk, hot chicas and overkill searches and buerocracy and hello America, with your decent supermarkets, easily acessable and fast internet, and Legion bars where police go to drink.


Day 22

We have decided to leave tomorrow. A Canadian man asks us about the regestration of our boat. We tell him its registered as an American boat. He tells us that if we go back in it, they will seize the boat. And keep it.

Dad hits on this plan where I will claim that my back pain caused us to go into Cuba, under duress. I fear purgering myself to the U.S. law enforcement agents. I plan to plea bargain, and grass out pops for an easier sentence. I am too pretty to go to jail, and will no doubt be raped in the showers by Mr Big, who is in with the Warden.

The Canadian couple invite us inside for rum and cokes. We talk about our trip, and the adventures we have had. The lady mentions that she would love her husband and son to go on such a trip some time - what a bonding experience it would be for the both of them. I think we have both probably quietly wondered to ourselves if it wouldn't have just been better to stick to going out for coffees and the occasional game of tennis, but she's on a rum and coke buzz, and probably not in the mood for that kind of answer, so I just smile.




Day 21


We muck around Varadero. The weather seems good. We talk to some of the other locals. Alex and Richard are Englishmen in their early thirties who have bought what is called a ferro-cement boat, and spent a long time doing it up. What they thought would take them 3 months ended up taking them 18. The boat is beautiful inside, with dark varnished wood everywhere, and a huge table in the back room, suitable for having a decent dinner around. Apparently ferro-cement was a big craze in the 60's or something, all these people making boats in their back yard with concrete and chicken mesh, but if not done properly, it tends to fall off in great chunks. I hope they got one of the well made ones.

We go the beach, which is the first time we have gone for a swim, gone for a swim with the intention "now we will go for a swim not to get diesel off our body, not to cool down, but to swim for the sake of swimming". The beach is nice, but lacks waves you can body surf. For me, this is at least half the fun of swimming. The water is clear, and that blue colour you see so much of in the brochures.