Day 2 - Havana

The city of Havana is truly amazing. There are parts of it which look like a run-down favela but other parts which have been lovingly restored to their former glory. Havana vieja (the old town) is almost fully restored, and offers a glimpse of what the rest of the city and many other cities on the island could look like if they spent some government money on reconstruction. There are some squares in the capital which are amazing - fully restored gleaming buildings standing next to a run-down apartment building.

Then there is the malecon, a long sea wall built by the Americans at the turn of the last century, which protects the city from the wrath of the sea. While we were there, certainly at the beginning, the sea didn't seem to angry at all, although we did slide around on the concrete pavement which was made slippery by a combination of Havana dust, seawater and algae which grow in the warm, wet conditions there.

In the evenings, it seems all of young Havana (70% of the city's population is under 20 years old) convene along the malecon to laugh, dance and chat with their friends. Chatting to tourists and seeing how many pesos they can get from them also seems like a popular pastime... We enjoyed a few bottles of Havana Club and the boys enjoyed many a cigar along this long sea wall during our time in Havana.

In the evening on the second day, we went to a government owned restaurant. In Cuba there are two kinds of restaurant, the government owned kind and the paladare - strictly regulated, but privately owned. We soon discovered the best kind. In the restaurant service was slow and almost rude (understandable given that salaries are less than 20€/month), the food was greasy, tepid and basically not at all good. We decided to try a paladare the next night, and we were not disappointed.

Day 1 - Havana

It's January 17th today, I'm back from Cuba now, after a truly amazing holiday. Here's my account of our pursuits, dated as it happened.

After a rather rude awakening this morning at 6.30am, we set off for Orly airport, with only the mist and darkness for company. Our taxi whisked us there in under 30 minutes, a record for us.

The flights (changed in Madrid) were pretty uneventful, Air Europa is quite similar to Air France, except that it's run by the Spanish and not the French. I watched In Her Shoes which was surprisingly good, and Cinderella Man which wasn't bad either.

Arriving in Havana was amazing. The air was hot, humid and smelled like fuel. Our taxi driver whisked us to our city centre hotel in what seemed like the only post-1970 car in the area. We drove past hundreds of hitch-hikers having what looked like a roadside party - later we learned that the side of the road in Cuba is frequently a venue for get-togethers of all kinds, but mainly the numerous crowds are just waiting for a ride.

I'm sure I'll mention them again, but the cars in Cuba are truly amazing. There are old Buicks, Cadillacs, Beetles and Chevies all over the country. Every street is like a classic car rally. Here are just two examples...





We went to a restaurant in the Vedado area of Havana, near to our (basic) hotel and experienced our first rice and chicken of the holiday... there would be much more.

Ready, Steady...

Back in the city of lights after a very relaxing and enjoyable Christmas with my family. I have heard that going back to your childhood home makes you more child-like, I've certainly found that in the past, but this time I felt much more of an adult. I can't really explain it, perhaps it's the fact that my 30th is literally days away, but this Christmas I've been able to shake off the childish behaviour that usually arises in me when I step onto the thick beige carpet of my parents' house. Perhaps my parents would totally disagree...

So now it's on to packing for Cuba, we leave in two days. The photo is just a tiny sample of the various lotions and potions we're packing in, even though Cuba is supposed to be one of the best countries for health care in the world. The main things I'm concerned about are the mosquitos (a strain of Dengue fever was reported a few months ago) and sleeping properly. I read that Gloria Hunniford takes a herbal sleep remedy called valerina, so I was persuaded and put a packet in my Boots basket. Now if the salsa dancing gets a bit too frenetic I can retire to my room and arm myself with my spongy earplugs and a tablet or two of homeopathic valerina.

G bought a new video camera with his Christmas money, so we'll be taking plenty of films during our trip, I'll try to put some of them on here when we get back on the 15th.

For now it's time for one last slap up dinner with G's family and then it's a very quiet New Year's Eve for us, before taking the plane on Monday morning.

Check out L's blog for her pursuits in Hong Kong, it seems to be going pretty well for her.

Home Time

It feels weird, like the last day of school, except that it's not hot, I haven't done any exams and my school tie isn't wrapped around my head like a bandana. The fact is that I have done my last day of work until 17th January! Tomorrow G and I are heading off to England for Christmas. I'm staying a week and he's back in Paris for Christmas Eve to be with his family.

Reading the news I'm hoping that we'll manage to actually get back to England, and not find ourselves in some scene of tragedy waiting in an airport for hours on end. I think if our flight is cancelled we'll go on the Eurostar, those guys must be rubbing their hands together in joy that so many flights have been grounded by the fog.

What I find rather bizarre is that flights from Heathrow have been cancelled, yet flights to Gatwick are supposedly unaffected. Surely the two airports are not that far from each other? I've been looking at various sites and it seems that if we'd booked a flight from Paris to Heathrow we'd definitely have been cancelled. As it is, the low budget www.thomson-fly.co.uk is alarmingly news-free, so I honestly can't say if tomorrow will be smooth or choppy runnings.

At least I'm pretty sure that one way or another we'll get to the UK before Christmas. I really can't wait, it's been nearly 5 months since I've been home. I'm starting to crave Lemsips, Johnson's baby powder and yorkshire pudding, although clearly not on the same plate...

One Of Those Days

7pm

Today was one of those days. Over the course of the day I:

1. Woke up 50 minutes late
2. Hauled a guitar on buses,and métros across Paris no less than four times
3. Arrived at work only to find my 9am appointment had been cancelled
4. Schlepped (can a British girl say that?) over to Asnières sur Seine to sing Christmas Carols
5. ... in a company meeting room with 10 French people and 2 other English-speaking people
6. Consumed only 1 banana and 2 slices of Christmas cake
7. Thought about how much I'd like to be in Hong Kong having aromatic crispy duck with pancakes and Tsingtao beer with L

I know it could be much, much worse, but right now it feels like I've been to the front line and back.

10pm
I've just made and put away a delicious spaghetti bolognaise, or al ragù as my Italian friend S says. I've rested and watched some very exciting series on tv and now, with a chapter or so of my book ahead of me, I'm feeling a lot more human again.

Time to set my alarm clock properly now...

Fly Me to the Moon!

There are only a few weeks to go before our trip to Cuba and I'm getting very excited! I've been hearing lots of different opinions about the place and extremely conflicting advice. Some people say not to hire a car, others say it's the best thing. Some say people don't ask for money in the street and others say that it's constant. Strange. I've never set off for a country that I know so little about really. Reading wikipedia's Cuba article and doing other bits and pieces of research on the net has helped, but I still feel remarkably unready. I've never been inside a communist country. My visit to Poland in 1997 is probably as close as it gets, but the iron curtain had been officially lifted well before that.

With L gone now, I need something to look forward to, and of course I do appreciate how great it is to be able to go on holiday in January when most people in the western world are trudging through snow or rain on their way to work after the festivities have calmed and the turkey has been digested.

G and I are secretly hoping that during our holiday in Cuba there will be some kind of historical event. It is unclear for the moment if Fidel Castro is alive or dead and if he chooses the first two weeks of January to 'pass on' then we're sure to experience a very important political event.

In my scrupulous research I've discovered that there are no McDonald's on the island of Cuba except on the US-owned military base of Guantanamo Bay. Apparently detainees of Guantanamo are allowed treats of happy meals, filet-o-fish and other delights as a reward for good behaviour. I'm not even going to go into the sickness that must live in the mind of man who eats that stuff as a reward. For more cheesy, greasy facts take a look here.

In Cuba there are also no Starbuck's, no Disney and no Gap. It's going to be a surreal but fantastic experience, I can't wait. As long as there are mojitos.

Goodbye

My fabulous friend L (one of us in the picture from June 21st - fête de la musique) is leaving for Hong Kong in just over a week and we had her leaving party last night. We took the métro over to her neighbourhood in the 17th arrondissement past the Place de Clichy, where I used to live with her in the first months of my Paris life. The neon lights, queues of people and the big Wepler brasserie, even though I've been there since living with her, brought back memories of late Friday nights at Corcoran's Irish pub, and karaoke extravaganzas at l'Epoque. All her friends were there and the party was a great chance to have a fun and laughter-filled evening. The atmosphere was not sad or gloomy, people danced, chatted and L's new beginning was truly baptised with endless bottles of champagne. I wrote a song for her, changing the words from Jolene to her name, and she enjoyed it. My guitar playing is rusty to say the least, but let's hope that the people listening were thinking that 'it's the thought that counts'!

So her French adventure has come to an end now, adult life really is about accepting that people move on. She has a fantastic career opportunity and is taking it with all her might. I know that I'll be able to visit in the future and she'll come back for trips to Europe from time to time, but for the best part of 11 years we have lived either in the same apartment or in the same town, be it at university or in Paris, and there is going to be a clear, L-shaped hole in my life now.

Blue

Pierre Gemayel, the Lebanese Industry Minister was shot yesterday in broad daylight, at 34 years old. Alexander Litvinenko, the former KGB colonel and defector was poisoned in early November, he has been in a critical condition since Sunday and doctors at one of London's top hospitals still don't know for sure what poison was used on him. Robert Altman is dead.

On a personal note, my very best friend L is moving to Hong Kong in a few weeks. We've lived in the same city since we were 18 (give or take a year) and I'm going to miss her enormously. She is one of those people who you end up laughing with, even if you're the foulest of moods to start with. She's been wildly successful in her career, which is now taking her to Asia, and of course I wish her the best of luck, but I can't help feeling a bit sorry for myself that she's leaving Paris and me behind.

Now, I'm not one to paint a gloomy picture of the world, but doesn't that make rather a lot of bad news for one week? Plus it has been raining everyday. I'm sure I'd be forgiven for not being as chipper as I manage to be most of the time.

Then this evening on my way home I saw a man cycling in the pouring rain with a bunch of roses in his backpack. I have to say it warmed my soul a little.

Boondoggle in the boondocks

The reason for my prolonged absence from here is not, I'm afraid to say, due to the glittering party-life of a Parisian, visiting Lacroix or eating at George V. I've been working very hard and translating very hard.

The piece I'm working on at the moment was written by someone who clearly hates translators. I'm not going to write the whole thing, but suffice to say it includes the words 'boondoggle' and 'boondocks'. Sounds like some kind of Australian slang to me. In fact boondoggle is a word to describe doing useless work for the sake of it, and boondocks is a name for a little village. No idea what I'm going to do with that information, but at least my English vocabulary has been expanded.

I went to Bercy last night to see the Eric Bompard ice-skating competition. It was the first time I'd seen a competition up close and the tension was truly icy. Every time someone fell (and they did frequently), I cringed and really felt for them. It was really quite magical to see the sparkling costumes and glamour of the skaters, let alone their talent throwing themselves and each other around on the ice. They're constructing the ice rink outside the Hôtel de Ville at the moment, maybe I'll pull on some leg warmers and a mini-skirt and have a go.

Well I'd better get back to my boondocks. It is pretty ridiculous to translate such a difficult text, but I keep thinking that when it's done I'll be able to tackle anything. In the mean time I'm gearing myself up for a 6/30 grade and dreaming of triple twists in glittery tights.

Dans le Noir

On Saturday, as now seems usual, I did another wine tasting. This time it was more fun than pedagogical and also in aid of raising awareness for the blind. If you think really hard. Yes, I did drink the best part of 5 glasses of delicious wine (noting the aromas, tastes... of course) but I also learned something. I learned that being blind would be extremely difficult indeed.

The experience G and I did on Saturday was called wine tasting Dans le Noir. The idea is to take away all the preconceived ideas about seeing wine and thinking how it should taste, to just concentrate on how it does taste. Plus, you start to understand how incredibly difficult it is to be blind.

After that we went over to Gare de Lyon and ate at the Européen, which was nice enough. They had some great oysters and a delicious dessert of pears with ice cream and chocolate sauce.

I'm still battling on with my translation course, this week is one into English about José Bové, and one into French about half-crowns, the old English coin. Rivetting.