“Hey, Dr. Helwig. Sorry, I won’t be able to make it to my orthodontist appointment today. I’m in…Cuba.”

June 15, 2009 at 9:41 am 3 comments

What’s up GE? Oh god, sorry for the lack of posts (but not as sorry as Alison should be). I’m typing from Havana, Cuba. I honestly don’t know what to say except “long story”. Anyway, I am kind of going insane. I keep thinking I’m going to find John Malkovich and Lawrence Fishburne with a shotgun around every corner, to the tune of Hendrix’s “All Along the Watchtower”. I stare and stare at my ceiling fan, illuminated in the red glow of communism. (just kidding! I dont have a ceiling fan!) But no, really, I’m fine. Just shooting here on an assignment for a documentary… one which doesn’t require the camera op to be of sound mind, clearly.

After spending the entire day hitchhiking through the Cuban Interior, I’m just glad to be sitting on a mattress that doesn’t slam shut on me. Cuba, by the way, is absolutely and hopelessly tragic. My weekend consisted of being in houses that don’t have running water, yet have nicer DVD players than most everyone I know. They didn’t have toilet paper, but ask them to burn you a CD and they’ll whip out 10 jump drives, just waiting to transfer information. “Everything we use now was built in the 50s,” my Cuban friend Orlando explained. “We’re just trying to move forward.” Unfortunately, “forward” does not include a working shower, and/or decent toothpaste. Oh god.

Some highlights of the trip include:

-Being jerked off to by a 50+ year old man while trying to watch “The Wrestler” here in a movie theatre. (talk about hand held cinema! ha. ha.)

-Catching a lift from a trucker and straddling his gear-shift for two hours while ducking my head every time we hit a checkpoint. God, that sounds like such a filthy sentence.

-Getting so drunk that the shop-keepers on my block had to recount the night for me the next morning, arguing over what happened: “Basically, chica, you were trying to sleep with a faggot.”

“No she wasn’t! She was the one eating a pizza!”

“Trust me, chica, he was totally gay. White guys… you should try a Cuban. Have you had dinner?”

“You definitely had a pizza. And listened to ‘Hey Jude’. Remember that song?” (the man proceeds to sing Hey Jude in broad daylight. “heeej oooode”)

-Successfully cursing in Cuban at a “Chinese” restaurant when I dropped my fork. “Ay, pinga!” The waitress looked at me, offended. “WHAT DID YOU SAY?” “I’m so sorry,” my Cuban friends explained, like I was mentally retarded. “Tourist.” The waitress huffed away. They gave me a high five. Success!

-Turning down an invitation to a party with Bob Veela(sp?) of “This Old House” fame

-Having 27 mosquito bites on my person at one time. Yes. I counted.

-Grabbing shots that would make my mother weep: from tops of buses, hanging upside from bridges, and while having someone hold me while I leaned 45 degrees of a crumbling balcony. All totally, completely worth it. That being said, I really don’t want to die in Cuba. Maybe, like, North Korea or something.

But don’t worry, googly-eyes, I’m healthy, incredibly tan, and safe (well, right now anyway.) Sometimes I miss being home, but then I think “What the fuck would I be doing right now, anyway? Yup, that’s right. Sitting in front a computer.” (Sorry. ) Lots of Love and fried plantains from La Habana:

*This is where a picture of myself would be if the internet here wasn’t so goddamn slow*



Entry filed under: Miscellaneous Musings.

This is as fun as me slamming my head into a desk Hey, I’m Not Dead

3 Comments Add your own

  • 1. miranda  |  June 15, 2009 at 1:47 pm

    whoa, this sounds so awesome.

  • 2. neekaps  |  June 15, 2009 at 2:56 pm

    So totally righteous!

  • 3. Tom  |  June 15, 2009 at 5:19 pm

    Woah. I was just listening to All Along The Watchtower yesterday!!

    That’s cuz I was thinking of Battlestar Galactica though.


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