Thursday, July 26, 2012


I was home for approximately one month.

What seemed like the impossible (going back) was becoming more and more tangible. First, my mother, who had been wanting to go on vacation was eager to visit this paradise I spoke about and second, I am completely unrealistic at times. Sometimes. Often. All the time.

I had to move. I had known this since before the trip but as I said, I had pushed all things from my other life out of my mind. The building where I was residing was being sold, or so I had been told. I didn't have much time to search nor prepare and I had to act quickly. Most of the good apartments had already been taken and one-year leases had been signed. It took about four days for me to pop out of my fantasy bubble to start really concentrating on what needed to be done. I knew one thing. I wanted to stay in this neighbourhood. I had been living there for two years and it was, in my opinion, the perfect location. In the heart of the city but with plenty of green spaces.

 I had two choices: one apartment that was only available in the fall and another that was ready right away (and with only a three month lease). My plan was to stay temporarily in the place with the shorter lease, until I could move in the next, more desirable place. The thing is, this apartment was horrendous. It was tiny and the hallways had malfunctioning lights that flickered every so often, much like in a scary film. Everyone that resided there looked utterly depressed. It was one medium-sized complex on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Still, it was temporary. It was cheap. It would do.

My skin was healing and my feet and legs had returned to their ordinary size. I was back at work, and thankfully back then, I was working freelance which is really the reason I was able to plunge into this adventure. I needed to start packing, finish up as many projects as possible and all this while receiving no emails whatsoever. Granted, there was still a bit of hope within me, a tiny little light that flickered on and off (but not in a frightening way like in my soon-to-be home). I was curious. I needed to know if I had been the only one to come home with a heart filled with hope and a cheek moist with sweat.

More after the jump...

Google would tell me. Just as Google had told me if my cold was really tuberculosis, or that the world was really obsessed with cat memes* and conspiracy theories; it would certainly have information regarding relationships with a Cuban. Okay, so I wasn't in a relationship but I was thinking about it, okay he hadn't asked me out, maybe he didn't even swing that way for all I knew, not that there's anything wrong with that...

Maybe he was married, or maybe he had a girlfriend, or maybe he was insane and in love with a goat...

I'm in love with....

No,  I'm not in love! I have a crush!

Married to a....

I am not married! Boy, are we reaching!

I may be interested in...

Too vague.

Cuban boyfriend

Oh, all right then.

* I may or may not find cat memes really, really amusing.


  1. bahahahahahahaaa!! this is hilarious "did you mean: smoking crack is safer for my mental health"

    and the cat meme!!!! you are truly hilarious!!

  2. I know there are lots of scary tales out there (and for a reason) but I've been happily married to my also Cuban husband for 17 years. Of course, I'm Cuban too so there are no cultural differences but again, not all cuban men (and women) are jineteros and out to get your money and time :)
    Glad you found your cubanito!

    1. This is why I'm glad I followed my heart while still using my brain, and took the time and effort to get to know the people and the way of life. It wasn't easy, but what is easy in Cuba? It's a place that made me realize what I'd been taking for granted and ignited a fire inside of me. I wish more people saw what I saw. Perhaps that's the reason I feel compelled to write this, other than being madly in love, of course! ;)

      I also believe there is a reason for everything and until we've walked a mile in someone's shoes (or chancletas), we really can't grasp their motives or what pushes them to make certain decisions.

      I'm really, really happy with my Cubanito! He's quite a gem! I hope we'll have many years of happiness, love, success, lots of congris, and the occasional chicharrón!

      Okay, maybe more than occasional. I love those things!