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The Ration Book or libretta, is issued to every man, woman and child each year. One bread roll per person per day, x grams of sugar, rice, flour etc... Chapter: Land of the Mogote
Ration Book | I was rather taken by these 50's inspired Juliet balconies in Pinar del Rio. Pity about the power lines...Chapter: Land of the Mogote
Retro Balconies in Pinar del Rio | My visit was exactly at the time of the Elian Gonzales uproar. Just after clicking this photo the T-shirt became mine, despite my protests. Chapter: Christmas in Havana
Salvemos a Elian | A house with a wonderful view straight through the front door and out the other side, in Playa Blanca, Holguin.Chapter: The Last Resort
See Thru House | My then beau lived in manzanillo in Costa Rica, so of course I had to go to the same place in Cuba....Chapter: A Seemingly Sacred Place
Manzanillo Here I Come |
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Black, White and Moreno: Cuba is a spicy mix and everyone gets along... Chapter: Land of the Mogote
Three Kids | The fish cost $3, and I was paying $10 for my room. "Why did you buy such an expensive item?" I asked. Ivan shrugged. The family wanted to make me feel special.Chapter: Long Enough in Trinidad
The Most Expensive Meal in Trinidad | "Yo soy an hombre sincero..." His name was Ernesto Serrano, and he taught me how to play Guantanamera on top of La Loma de la Cruz, Holguin.Chapter: Guantanamera
Trovedore on La Loma, Holguin | It all started out nice and comfy, but 12 hours later, freezing cold, stuff stolen off my bike and way past my stop at 1 am, and I was starting to say 'hijo de putah...'Chapter: The Last Resort
The Truck Ride from Hell | Rice, beans, ex-pig, and la novela, the Cuban soap opera channel that everyone lives vicariously through. Always pack a little black dress. Chapter: Christmas in Havana
Christmas in Havana |
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Yoanka, a Cuban cyclist training for the Sydney 2000 Olympics, happened to throw her skinny tires and even skinnier legs onto the same truck heading to Havana as I. Chapter: Return to Havana
Yoanka & Me | A thirty something grandmother, Zaida welcomed me into her home based on a scribbled note from Kenia... and never stopped smiling.
Zaida in Manzanillo |
