And then all fun times come to an end and I am at the airport again. I feel like I should sit down and have a serious talk with the airport, because we are starting to have a little love/hate-relationship. I hate it for leaving and I love it for going.
But I absolutely love it for being my gateway to Cuba! Cuba is going to be simple, uncomplicated fun with my Dutch friend. Besides her, my interest in the human species has sunken below zero. I have no desire to meet new people, make friends or built relationships, just to say goodbye and get on another plane again.
But life is always pigheaded, so when I unsuspectingly sit down on a random empty chair during communal dinner at a hostel in Havana, I am fucked once again.
It all started with my uncontrollable urge to stare at people’s food. I can’t help it. It just happens. But then obviously you have to talk about that with the eater and before you know it, you have a really good talk about absolutely nothing and everything et voilà: you have made a new best friend.
But still. This guy is a two meter tall black basketball player type of guy with a good steady job and a shameless love for hip-hop and soul. Definitely not my type. My type seems to be the skinny white basket case type of guy, with no job and a shameless love for illegal substances. So I’m not worried.
The plan for the night is to go to a fancy club with supposedly a very good live band. It all sounds very sophisticated. Not really my style, but it is a group thing, so I simply go with group pressure and reluctantly pay a 15 CUC entrance fee. When I enter the building I have high expectations for the night. When I turn the corner into the main area, my expectations come tumbling down.
My worst nightmare: A room full of women. Women in short tight dresses and meter-high heels. All girls in the room pretty much look like prostitutes. After a short analysis I realize that I am the only female wearing pants. A little bit frightened by my surroundings I order a drink. I get a very sophisticated can of beer and I lean against the bar to soak up my environment.
The world inside Casa de la Musica is turned upside down. The women are definitely the predators and the few guys in the room seem somewhat intimidated. And they should be. These women are professionals and competition is brutal, so they have to be aggressive. The upside to the situation is that it is a carefree night for us regular girls.
At least it is, until my new basketball friend Alpha is joining the group, for a lovely night of abundant prostitution. And without realizing, I automatically become the brave protector of his honor. A human shield against overly submissive women. So, it’s obviously not my fault when I end up kissing him. I am just being a hero. Or maybe I am just the cheapest girl in the room.
Whatever the reason, my night ends pretty good on the Malecón wall in Havana, looking out over the sea. I am feeling comfortably messed up, so when Alpha proposes to move to his hotel room, I am leaning very much towards yes. But I vaguely remember being someone else’s girlfriend, only three days ago, about 4000 km from here, so I politely decline. But time and place can play weird tricks on your mind and simple uncomplicated Cuban fun is definitely kicking in.