Putting the "Mata" in Matanzas: Chapter 3

Chapter 3:

On Friday evening I said to Steph, "Today was so bad, tomorrow can't possibly be worse." Oh, how wrong I was. Our Saturday began with no wake-up call, but Professor Brown knocked on our door around 8:30 to make sure we were up. I found out later from Sonya that the discussion around the breakfast table went as follows:

Sonya: None of us got wake-up calls, just letting you know. Looks like Steph and Meg aren't here yet.
Grapefruit Tour guide: Well, I got a wake-up call.
Cornelius: No, I saw Meg when I was walking here. She's outside.
Sonya: No, she's not. She is not outside.
Cornelius: No, I definitely saw her.
Professor Brown: Well, I'll just run over to their room and make sure that they're up so they can still have breakfast before we have to go.

No, I was not outside. And no, the tour guide's wake-up call did not miraculously mean that the rest of us got them.

After breakfast, we all loaded into the bus with a renewed enthusiasm for the frigid day ahead of us. Driving down the highway, I saw some birds flying around an area. Upon looking closer I realized that there was a pack of vultures eating a dead dog which was laying on the side of the road. There are some things that I've tried to get used to in Cuba, and seeing dead dogs is one thing that I cannot. It is simply horrifying.

The first town we got to was a "typical Cuban town." I do not know the name of said town. They let us free for 15 minutes, during which time Chelsea and I found shampoo for 1.50, and I made friends with the bag-check woman by the store. "Where are you from?" she asked me (in Spanish, though once again I'm too lazy to translate).
"The United States."
"Oh, really? Americana!"
"Yep!"
"What do you think of Cuba?"
"It's nice! It's very different from home."
"Is it what you expected from reading about Cuba?"
"Well, I don't know. It's certainly an adventure, whatever it is."
It's true. The more I think about it, the less I understand about Cuba, never mind what my opinion is regarding it. Standing on the sidewalk, I was approached by an old man with vacant eyes who could barely whisper to me. Clutching a tube of toothpaste (invaluable to those who don't have it readily available) he asked me if I could spare a peso so that he could get something to eat. (One peso = 4 cents CUC, so about 6 cents USD.) I gave him three pesos, and he looked so grateful, it nearly broke my heart.

We then went to a different town, where we proceeded to stand around on the sidewalk for a very long time, and Sonya then began to use her pen as a microphone, acting as a tour guide for our surroundings. Adopting the same level of intellect that grapefruit had, she told us about the different color houses, how some are green, but some are different color green, and how we were in a town. She interviewed grapefruit in order to get the real info from him. Surprisingly, the only thing he knew was the name of the town. I have now forgotten this name. I'm not concerned enough to try to remember it.
"So what are we doing here?" Sonya asked.
"Well, before we were in the north of Matanzas, and now we're in the south."
"Oh, okay."

After concluding this all-important sidewalk-standing session, we walked into a "museum." The man who worked there informed us that it wasn't actually a museum, but is going to be a museum in the future after they get the funding to build it. So we stood in an empty area while the man told us what will be there some day. Fascinating.

For lunch, we were eyeing a hotdog stand that had cheap food that we could get quickly, hoping to avoid the 2-hour-bloody-chicken fiasco of the day before. When Courtney asked Cornelius Fudge if this were possible, he brushed it off, refusing to listen. Instead, we had another meal of the same quality as the day before. Yum.

One thing I've learned: if you let your guard down, Cuba will break your heart. Cuba has the ability to draw you in, make you want to do anything within your power to help someone, then completely frustrate you with the fact that you are completely and utterly powerless. This brings me to the next part of my Saturday.

While standing in the town square staring at yet another José Martí statue and waiting for Fudge to figure out our next disaster, a little stray puppy came up to us. She was dirty, had fleas, was skin-and-bones, and had the prettiest slate-blue eyes you've ever seen. She also was very friendly. Being the sucker I am, I picked her up, and she immediately snuggled into my chest. Her shivering stopped, and she began to calm down. For the next two hours, she slept soundly in my arms, curled up into my sweater. I wish I were exaggerating, but that was truly how lovely she was.

While I spent time with the lil Chiquita, we went to an Erotic Art Museum. I decided to stay outside on the sidewalk, unsure of the sophisticated establishment's rules regarding animals.

Then we went and toured a children's library which was funded by UNICEF. That was really neat, and I'm glad I got to see it. And Chiquita accompanied us. She also came with us as we walked to the local Catholic church, sat there for a couple minutes, then left. Yet another thrilling tour.

Then it was time to get on the bus, and time to make a decision regarding Chiquita. The last thing I wanted to do was leave her on the street to start shivering again, or get hit by a car, or get eaten by vultures. The other dogs running around that town were not in any better condition, and they had the advantage of being fully grown. Talking to Professor Brown, we weighed the options.
1. I keep her. I take her home with me to the hotel then to the residencia, where I will have a puppy to potty train on the 12th floor of a building that doesn't have a working elevator. I then have to abandon her because I can't bring her through customs with me.
2. I keep her, and find a home for her. This seemed to be the best scenario until I realized that no one in Cuba can afford to feed themselves, never mind a dog. This was why there were so many dogs on the streets.
3. I put her back on the street and try my darndest not to cry in front of everyone.

Option 3.

And I tried my darndest not to cry in front of everyone, though it was hard. And when I set her down on the ground she woke up and tried to follow me. See? Cuba can break your heart if you let it. And I'm not really sure why, but this time I let it.

We then went back to the hotel, then got dinner at a restaurant that we went to the night before that had decent pizza, though that night they were out of pizza so we had really gross spaghetti that I'm embarrassed to admit I ate all of.

And thus concludes Saturday.

TO BE CONTINUED.