There's no awkward in Spanish.: Observe the blondey ladies in their natural habitat.

Chelsea needed to go run some errands in Havana Vieja this evening so I accompanied her (mostly for the thrilling opportunity to go up the thirteen flights of stairs for the second time today because the elevator is broken, but also because I was bored).

Most of the cab drivers we have choose to sit in morose silence, either disgusted by our use of English, or just thoroughly uninterested with our presence in their work days.

Today, however, we had a cab driver that not only knew English, but delivered us to our destination with style. (Kindly imagine the cab driver to have an accent similar to that of Borat. Yes, he's Cuban.. and no, I have no idea where this accent has come from.)

Cab driver: Where are you from?
Chelsea: The United States.
CD: Oh, we love it when Americans come to Cuba to visit! To the United States we are the enemy, but we love it when the Americans come here and see Cuba for themselves.
[Continues on this theme for some time, inserting casually the Canadian and British tourists hatred of Americans, and also referencing the 80's pop that he had playing in the cab, saying that the Cubans love American music]
CD: My first wife moved to the United States in 2000. She lives in Florida.
Ch: Oh, that's nice.
CD: My son wants to join her, but he's waiting for his visa, then they will reunite.
Me: I see.
CD: Me, I like the Americans, but I want to stay in Cuba. I get enough of American wildlife from the TV.
Ch: Wildlife?
CD: Oh, you know, the pretty blondey ladies and their husbands, and two cars, one for the men, and one for the ladies. And their two kids: boy and girl, and their two dogs: one white, one black, and the white one stays indoors and the black one stays outdoors.
[Both Chelsea and I are stunned and overwhelmingly amused, laughing. CD laughs at his own jokes]
Me: Oh yes, this is what all the Americans are like! [Making sure to convey the sarcasm] [Searching for another topic]
Me: How old is your son?
CD: 23. He is very nice looking. I know, I know - you look at me like, "Oh, I don't know," but imagine me 35 year difference. And he wear the glasses tied to the Top Gun. [I try to figure out the use of the phrase "tied to," only reaching the guess that perhaps it means "similar to that of"] You know of the Top Gun?
Me & Ch: Oh, yes! We know Top Gun!
CD: He wears the glasses tied to the Top Gun with Tom Cruise. He ride the motorseekles and have many girlfriend.

The conversation continued until we reach our destination, meandering through such topics as "the Capitalismo" and his heartbreaker son. Though the driver told us that it would cost 6 CUC to get there, he generously let us only pay 5, saying something to do with "the economies to the moneys," or something of the sort. One can only assume that he is referencing the US economy's gutter-dwelling state.

-

I have so much more to say on so many more important topics, but at the moment I don't have much energy to do so. Instead, I'll post some pictures from the past couple days, including some that I took of Steph on Tuesday evening, and some that I snapped while driving home from the Tambor this afternoon, mostly taking photos of Miramar, the ritzy (for lack of a better term) suburb outside of Havana.

Steph: