It took three hours to clear customs at the Jose Marti Airport, because the Cuban government is concerned that computers and printers can be used by CIA agents to facilitate terrorist and subversive activities. I showed the aduana (customs agent) inspecting my luggage, photos that I took of my Cuban students on my previous visit. I also had two letters, one from the head technician of the computer department of the University of Havana and the other from the director of the largest hospital, the Gral Calixito Garcia also in Havana. I was hoping that she would realize that I was a "good guy" and not another CIA hired assassin like the one they caught last year who bombed a hotel and killed an Italian tourist. The bomber confessed that he was being paid one million dollars per hotel that he was able to blow up. I had hoped that she would let me pass with my seven computers, printer and suitcase of computer gear. She seemed to soften up after looking at the endearing photos of my dedicated, happy students. For a moment there I even thought I saw her serious face of a government official smile.
    Then an old gray haired aduana (who looked like he had fought with Fidel in the Revolution) approached with a limp and eyed the scene. My inspector asked him a few questions that sounded like; "Should I let this guy go through with all this equipment which he says is for our students?" The old bull dog looked at me and then at all the computers and seemed to say: "Well If they are for the students at the University of Havana and we confiscate them they will have no problem coming here and picking them up. If on the other hand he is a CIA agent then we will have foiled the enemy's plans and obtained some computers for our students".
    I can't swear that they really said all this, because my Spanish is so bad, but immediately after he talked to her and walked away she appeared to have come to a decision. Putting one hand on the stack of laptop computers and the other on the laser printer she leaned toward me, looking me squarely in the eye and said; "acrollarmos " (we will impound these). There has been a long history of sabotage, assassinations, biological attacks, invasions and a host of other assaults, political and economic against the Cuban people for the last 40 years beginning with the triumph of the Revolution.  In fact U.S. rulers have always sought annexation of Cuba. Since 1805, Jefferson expressed his intentions of taking possession of Cuba due to strategic reasons and in 1809 he sent secret agents to the island to negotiate with Governor Someruelos. The same happened with the other presidents that followed. In April, 1823, US Secretary of State John Quincy Adams formulated his "ripe fruit theory": "..there are laws of political gravitation, like there are laws of physical gravitation, and Cuba, separated from Spain, will necessarily fall in the grasp of the United States, the same way a ripe fruit detached from a tree has to necessarily fall to the ground".

Since that time the U.S. has had a continuous history of intervention and domination in Cuban affairs.

    I got a receipt for the six seized computers and two laser printers and pushed my luggage cart towards the exit. Two of my students Maydi and Yamile were there waiting as I passed through the doors. They showered me with kisses and hugs and helped me carry my luggage to the taxi. We drove into Havana and made our first stop at my landlord's house to pick up the keys to my apartment or "casa particular" as the Cubans call it. Odalis, my landlord and her cousin Odelkis came out to greet me as I got out of the taxi. I approached the door and was once again smothered in more hugs and kisses. The Cubans have a very friendly attitude towards visitors from the U.S., you might call it an open arms foreign policy.
    After dropping my gear off at my apartment I was invited to join some of my students on a bicycle tour of Havana. The bicycle group named Ecobici, was created by my friend Ariadna and a few others. It is a group of students who teach environmental consciousness and use bicycles as their principle mode of transportation. They made me an honorary member and then gave me the oldest bicycle they could find. It was so patched up and decrepit that it could be put in 'Ripley's Believe it or Not' museum for a testimony to the wonders of tape, wire, rubber bands and spit as Cuban bicycle repair materials. As I rode the wobbly bike, which I called my viejo abuela enfermo bicicleta (old sick grandmother bicycle) I wondered how long it would take them to get me to the hospital once it disintegrated beneath me. I was already recovering from one very bad bicycle accident that tore some ligaments in my shoulder and was very wary that my  campaneros were setting me up for another one. I survived the bicycle tour through the city and made it back to my apartment in one piece, my injured shoulder was aching and my nerves were shot.
     Odalis had invited me over to dinner that evening, an offer I could hardly refuse. I helped Odalis and Odelkis in the kitchen after passing around a few presents- some special bathing gloves for the women, a screw driver tool kit for Osvaldo and a plastic dental kit for cleaning teeth for everyone. I don't think that this is considered "trading with the enemy" as I gave these items away rather than selling them. Odalis invited me to go with her to Holguin province in eastern Cuba the next week to visit her parents and spend a few days on their finca (ranch).
    The next day Ariadna and I went over to the Infomed office and met the director. Infomed is an organization that I collect computers for in the U.S. We are building an internet medical access network for the Cuban medical system that will not only enable Cuban doctors to access medical information but  doctors in other Caribbean nations as well. Cuba's medical schools are the finest in all of Latin America and graduate more doctors per capita than any other country in the world. This is a United Nations project and has many participants from other countries. We talked shop for a bit and then headed over to the Salvador Allende memorial building and participated in a conference on the homosexual experience in Cuba. We watched a video made by the Young Communist Alliance. The documentary was excellent and so was the discussion group afterwards.
    In the evening I went with Yamile and Ariadna to their graduation ceremony and was able to see Fidel from a distance of about 25 yards. The Cuban government recently built a new public demonstration arena where they have large gatherings for protests, graduation ceremonies and other public events.
    The next morning I took a taxi to the pharmacy to get some extra foot powder medicine for my trip to Holguin with Odalis. It seemed that I didn't notice that my feet had developed a serious case of athlete's foot until it was too late, and now I was going to pay the price. On the way back from the pharmacy I took another taxi and found myself sitting next to Odelkis, who was returning from the university where she teaches. I immediately realized my good fortune and asked her if I could spend the next few hours following her around. To my delight she was very happy to have me accompany her on her errands. I would be leaving for Holguin in a few hours and wouldn't return until Saturday or Sunday. Odelkis would be spending the next two weeks of her vacation time leading  five hundred students cutting sugar cane in the campo (country). Odelkis is an art professor (Ph.D.) at the Enrique Jose Barona University in Havana. She is donating part of her vacation to volunteer on this activity. The revolutionary culture in Cuba tries to instill appreciation and understanding in the minds and hearts of all intellectuals regarding the sacrifices made by the campensinos (farm  workers). Life and especially work in the campo is very hard, exhausting and dangerous. Working under the hot summer tropical sun cutting sugar cane is not a task for the faint of heart. The rigors of this kind of work require full body covering as the cane leaves make small cuts on any exposed skin which then stings when the sweat pours in. There is also the ever present danger of accidental slashes from other cane cutters swinging machetes. Many University professors prefer to relax in the cool shade at home on their vacation rather than slowly cook in some hot mosquito infested grove of sugar cane with it's inherent hazards.
    This is why I often refer to Odelkis as "Commandente Odelkis" because she is truly one of the real revolutionaries here in Cuba. She is also constantly trying to obtain donations of art materials for her students because the U.S. blockade has made it almost impossible to obtain supplies. Last year we had made a date to travel to the province of Sancti Spiritus to do some fishing on one of the rivers. The week of fiestas celebrating the 40th anniversary of the Revolution and her volunteer work in the campo has set back our original date until she returns. In her first letther to me that I received after I returned to the U.S. she referred to herself as "..su nueva amica.." (your new friend). I use this quote occasionally to chide her regarding our unusual relationship. It has become our little private joke. I have now added Commandante Odelkis  to this list of references. She is one of those people who makes a surprise encounter a very special event.
    I said good-bye to Odelkis after spending a few enjoyable hours  and headed back to Odalis's aunt's house. It's now 5:45 pm and Odalis is an hour late but I'm taking her tardiness in good humor since Ariadna, one of my students has prepared me well for Cubans not showing up on time. Odalis finally shows up and we head for the train station in Havana. The train is an ancient assemblage of equipment from the eastern bloc countries. Each car actually has a working air conditioning system that keeps the car cool. This was refreshing for the first few hours but became a real uncomfortable experience when the sun went down. Since I was wearing only a T-shirt and shorts I spent the rest of the night trying to stay warm. I had to get up every fifteen minutes and walk out of the car to try and warm up. It became a tortuous ritual to become shivering cold, get up and walk out of the car, run in place to get warm again and then return to the refrigerator car only to begin the ritual all over in about fifteen minutes. It began to feel like I was an unfortunate soul condemned to suffer some type of eternal torture, where rest or comfort no longer existed. I survived the sleepless, refrigerator hell to see the sun rise again and savor the blessed warmth of the coming new day. The train stopped at an open roadstead near Holguin. We climbed down a very steep slope embankment  from the train rail bed on loose gravel with armloads of luggage. The disembarking was quite a challenging experience, somewhat like the very first time I headed down a ski slope but this time with a suitcase under each arm and without the skis.
We quickly found a "Taxi" which was a remarkably preserved 1947 Studebaker.  The driver didn't have a license to carry tourists so I was told not to speak any English if we were stopped by the police. We arrived in Holguin after a 10 minute drive and met Odalis's brother who had an even better preserved 1954 Studebaker sedan. It was a bit like stepping back in time to see all these vintage American cars. I sometimes get flashed back to my childhood when I get into a particular year and type of Chevrolet, Ford, Studebaker or other car that my relatives used to drive around in when I was a small child.
    Odalis's mother and father are campansinos (farmers) and they had the typical campanseno house with cement floor, wooden walls and posts set in the cement. The home is very clean and well organized. Odalis's father took me around his finca (farm) and showed me his crops and farm animals. He pulled down a few coconuts from one of his palm trees and cut them open so I could  try out the milk and coconut meat. We sat under the shade of an expansive tamarindo tree and had a coca refresco natural. The heat and humidity of the day made it quite an effort to carry on normal activities like walking around and doing minor house chores. To go out under the sun around noon took courage and a tough skin. It is easy to see how part of the human race turned dark brown and black under such conditions. In the evening we all sat down to a nice dinner of rice, platanos, bananas, chicken, fish, salad and fresh juice. We watched an American Hollywood movie on their ancient black and white 1950's TV. I was embarrassed to watch the movie because it was a violent "action movie" that is so predominate in American society. This kind of film is very unusual and alien to Cuban society. The Cubans spend their most of their time and money making films  on health and education.
    The next morning Odalis, her father, Osvaldito, and I went into Holguin on her father's horse drawn cart. It was a very primitive affair composed of two very ancient automobile wheels, a metal frame and two long wooden seats with a few rags for padding. I could feel every bump in the road and when we hit a pot hole I was in serious pain. The novelty of riding in a horse drawn cart wore off very quickly along with some skin on my backside. Now I know why this form of cart is called a buckboard.
    We arrived in Jalisco, a town on the main road where we caught a taxi to Holguin. The "taxi" was an old black hearse that we were packed into like sardines. It wasn't until the door closed with the windows up that I noticed there werern't any handles on the inside of the doors. As we drove away the temperature rose and the hearse quickly became a mobile sauna as the hot July tropical sun bore down on our mobile hell. As sweat poured out of me I remembered why solar collectors were painted black.
    In Holguin we recovered from the taxi ride and dried out our clothes. Odalis took us to the foot of a small mountain which had a memorial to Che Guevara, a restaurant and a beautiful view at the top. The only problem was climbing the three hundred and seventy eight steps that were nine inches high to get there. We had to stop and rest after every twenty five steps to catch our breath and there was not a square inch of shade to hide under. It was another exhausting and torturous experience that I seemed to be developing a knack for running into. At this rate visiting any more places in Holguin (or anywhere else for that matter ) with Odalis was going to make me a very tough hombre or quickly put an end to my days on this planet.
 I considered renting a car at this point, since the time we would be spending just getting our act together, riding the horse cart into Jails and catching a taxi into Holguin would be taking half a day. If we really wanted to go to the beach, which is another journey itself from Holguin, we would have to leave about three in the morning (which is impossible with Osvaldito), or rent a car.

I rented a car.

    The morning of our beach safari started out with Osvaldito throwing a big tantrum, running back and forth through the house bawling and arguing with everyone. Around 9:00 we got it together and hit the road to the beach. Maby I should say the road hit us on the way to the beach. The "road" was more holes than road and the pedestrians, farm animals and bicyclists definitely made it a challenge to drive. After the experience I think that I could design a new interactive video game that would be more scary and challenging than the action games the kids play now. All I would have to do is reproduce my experience driving down the Cuban rural roads to the beach from Holguin and simulate the wandering pedestrians, suicidal bicyclists, stray cattle crossing the road, kamakazi truck and bus drivers. I would also rig a jack hammer under the seat of the video game players and turn it on so they could experience the "feel of the road". The video game simulation wouldn't be complete however, without a continuous sound track of four Cubans talking to the driver simualtaneously in incomprhendable Cuban slang or barbarismos as it is called here.
    After our trip to the beach I joked with  Odalis after dinner that this was the fifth "tortura" (torture) that I had been subjected to during our trip. The refridgerated ride in the train, the sauna bath taxi to Holguin, the horrendous climb to the top of the Che monument  (375-9" steps) in the burning noon sun and the butt bashing ride in the cart being the other four. She laughed at my remarks, seeing that I was taking it all in good humor. Her eyes began to water as her body shook with chuckels  deep within her. I had a feeling that she was  relieved that everything was going to be allright and her North American guest was not going to get uptight. Then I began to laugh and we laughed and cried together as if we both had suddenly felt the joy of shrugging off some heavy burden. I must admit the situation was a bit amusing. Here was a Cuban hostess trying her best to entertain her first North American guest and make him comfortable and all the time watching him suffer one physical assualt after another.
    I thought that I could get away with not wearing my 40spf sun block at the beach since I only exposed myself for a few minutes from the car to the ocean and back each way but that was enough to get me a first degree sun burn going. This was my sixth "Tortura". Odalis's brother and step-sister wanted to go to the beach but since I had a bad sunburn and had already suffered a lot in the first week of being here in Cuba we all decided that I would be better off hanging out on the finca the last day and get a tour. I got to see them milk the cow ( a demonstration which confirmed my resolve to avoid dairy products ) and examined the various crops her father grew.
    After the tour we walked down the road about 1/4 mile and visited her neighbor, a Cuban helicopter pilot Jorge and his wife Anna. During the visit  we talked about the CIA trained Salvadorian terrorist who was captured in Cuba after he set off a bomb in one of the hotels and killed an Italian tourist. They told me that this terrorist was offered one million dollars for each hotel that he blew up. I wonder if he got extra points for each person killed. We discussed some of the other criminal acts the CIA has committed against the Cuban people like the spread of Dengue hemmoragic fever and blowing up a Cubana Airlines jet killing 72 people. Posada Carriles, an anti-Castro Cuban American living in Miami has admitted to the bombing of the Cubana jet but the U.S. refuses to extradite him.  I pointed out that the U.S. also visited the same treatment to its own people by mentioning the Waco Texas Branch Dividian massacre of 35 babies and children and 42 adults and the bombing of Judi Beri and Daryl Cheny, two Earth First! activists in Oakland California.
    We returned to Odalis's finca and had our last meal together. The seventh torture that I experienced in Cuba was the food that I ate at Odelis's farm. Everything that could possibly be cooked was floating in grease. I have never seen so much greasy food in one place in my whole life. It is no wonder her father has heart problems. Rather than take drugs for his heart all he needs to do is cut the grease from his diet.
    After dinner we exchanged farewell presents and took a couple of group photos. Odalis's mother apologized for their impoverished living conditions and their lack of anything resembling a bathroom. I pointed out that their family had the riches of love and a good spirit.
    I returned the rental car at the airport and boarded a well used Russian AU-24 turbo-prop aircraft. The roar from the two engines was deafening so I wadded up some toilet paper and stuffed it in my ears. Inside the plane the noise was even worse because I had an engine on each side of me, so the effect was like putting my head between two juice blenders running at high speed. An hour later I disembarked from the flying juice blender with a severe case of tinnitus.
    The next morning, after returning to Havana, I began my first computer class with the Cuban students. They are a lively and animate bunch, eager to learn the Mac computer. They have already had a basic computer course at the university, so giving them the essential skills to run a Mac is fairly painless. The students are very intelligent and absorb everything I show them like a sponge. I bought a lot of food so they wouldn't have to be hungry during the lab which went another three hours past the assigned period from 10 to 12. About half the morning class students stayed over for the second class in the afternoon. They took the fresh vegetables and canned fish I bought at the mercado (market) and prepared a delicious lunch for every one. It was a very nice way to spend the day. Ariadna arrived an hour late. She was feeling sick and had a bad headache and left after the first hour of the class.
    The next day my students decided to cut class and go to the Earnest Hemmingway Museum, which was his former home in Havana. Since I would have no students today they "invited" me to join them. It seemed almost like an afterthought, like Oh, yeah, since we're going to the museum instead of your computer class (and you won't have any students) why don't you come along.We took the "Camel" which is an affectionate name the Cubans give to a specially designed bus that is towed by a diesel tractor. It is of a similar design to a cattle car except that it has a few seats instead of cattle pens. I'm sure that the experience of the humans was similar to the cattle as both are herded into the trailer and packed as tightly as allowed by the UN Convention on Human Rights. The students sent a scout an hour ahead of the group so as to reserve a place at the head of the line of people waiting for the bus. We still had to wait an hour in the hot sun. Ten minutes before the Camel arrived a woman in a uniform handed out little torn pieces of rough paper with a number penciled on one side. I noticed that as each person got a ticket they sprinted for the Camel. I quickly realized this increased the chances of being one of the few people to have a seat on this mainly standing room only bus. The cost of this adventure in Cuban transportation was one peso or five cents. Now I know why Henry smiled when he turned down my invitation to hire a cab and said that I should experience other forms of Cuban transportation.
    We arrived at the Hemmingway museum amid a swarm of middle aged Japanese tourists who all seemed to have a digital video camera. The entry fee to the museum was 3 pesos for Cubans and 3 dollars for foreigners. They also charged $5 for every photo taken inside the house and $50 for each hour of video time. The ride back from the museum was far worse than the cattle car to the museum. It also cost five times more. I don't think the old converted flat bed 49 ford truck had any shocks or springs, because every bump and pothole in the road was transmitted through the wooden bench, up my spine, into my skull, rattling my teeth.
    I returned back to the apartment with six students and we had a nice lunch made from some bread I bought on the way back and left overs. Charlie and Juan, two of my students, practiced on the computers until 10:00pm and then we hung out and talked about health, prevention, diet and the hazards of consuming dairy products among other things. They were amazed and shook their heads in disbelief when I told them that furniture glue was made from milk. Sho I took a bottle of milk out of the refrigerator and spread a half teaspoon full on two pieces of notebook paper and put them together. I then offered ten dollars to anyone who could separate the two pieces of paper in the morning without destroying them. The next morning I had forgotten about my milk adhesive example until I noticed that the students went straight for the dining table where I had left the milk demonstration under the telephone book. They passed it around the table, each student trying to separate the two pieces of paper, without success.

My ten dollars were safe.

    In the afternoon during a break towards the end of class I got into a conversation with one of my students, a young woman named Suren. She was very interested in prevention health techniques and is presently studying yoga. We were having lunch during our talk.

 Suren: "Thank you for making lunch for us today. I know that I should be eating better, but it is hard to change."

"Well, you could start right now by going back to the table and adding as much salad to your plate as you have beans and rice."

Suren gets up and does so, returns and continues the conversation.

"I want to learn about more things that are good for health to others"

"Well, diet and prevention are two very effective places to start. Eliminating all dairy products from your diet and washing your hands before eating would have an immediate benefit. Also changing your diet to reduce greasy foods and increasing your intake of salads, fruits and vegetables would be a big improvement."

"Many Cubans like much carne (meat), beans, rice , platanos (bananas) but not vegetables. I want to teach children new ideas because older people change hard. I now study yoga for my mind but need study better foods also."

"How did you become interested in yoga?

"we lived in Mongolia for three years when I was nine. My name Suren is made from two words, 'sur' which means south and 'in' comes from invierno which means winter"

"So your name means south winter."

"Yes, exactly, many Cubans make up their children's' names in this way. The father and mother of Elian Gonzales did the same thing. Elian's name is made from the first three letters of his mother's name, Elizabeth and the last two letters of his father's name, Juan"

    My alarm went off at 4:30 this morning and I hit the floor running. Rodrigo and some students hired a van to go to the annual march and rally at Pinar del Rio and invited me to go along. I had to meet them out in front of my apartment before dawn with my suitcase packed. I had gotten word that Odelkis wasn't going to come back to Havana until Monday, so I decided to stay the weekend with Yamile and her mother after the rally.
The road to Pinar del Rio was completely jammed with trucks and busses as far as the eye could see. When we finally arrived at the rally we walked about a mile. Like the rally in Havana the roads were completely full of people and the rally site was standing room only. My bladder began to warn me of maximum capacity so I scanned the horizon for the proper facilities. To my horror I began to realize that either the march and rally leaders forgot to appoint a portable toilet committee or they were on vacation. There wasn't a john in sight. I retreated from the demonstration site and began to desperately search my surroundings for a place to pee, as my bladder approached critical mass. I was amazed and shocked that anyone could organize a rally for over a quarter million people and not provide adequate restroom facilities. I finally found a small group of outhouses, each with a line of at least 50 persons. I hastened my pace towards some houses and noticed that people were entering and leaving various clumps of bushes with a small amount of toilet paper in their hands. I could imagine what the ground around the bushes must be like so I decided to continue my search, since I was wearing open toed sandals and had left my rubber boots at home. I walked up to the first house, knocked on the door and made my plea for access to their bathroom, which was mercifully granted. I offered a dollar to the generous woman of the house, but she refused the gratuity. I returned to the rally and stayed for a half hour but the brutal sun began to take it's toll and I knew that I had better head back to  the van and Yamile's house or I would succumb to heat exhaustion and dehydration. I was also experiencing pain in my shoulder due to the humidity aggravating my shoulder injury that I sustained from an earlier bicycle accident. It turned out that the van driver knew Yamile well. I took a nap and settled into a blissful sleep after refreshing myself with the comforts of civilization: shade, water and a real bed.
    That evening Yamile's mother, relatives and I went to the carnival, which was quite lively and entertaining, with colorful floats, dancers and streets full of families.We were really beginning to relax and have a good time.

Then the rain came.

    I never quite appreciated the phrase; "It rained on their parade", until this tropical storm opened up with buckets over the carnival. One moment everyone was enjoying themselves and dancing in the street and the next moment they were running for cover. There was something very  eerie about an abandoned carnival float with its lights on and recorded music playing, being drenched, while hundreds of people watch silently from the covered sidewalks. We waited there for about an hour while the rain slowly destroyed the sound and lighting systems.

August 6
    Today is my birthday and I awoke with a room full of Cubans singing "Feliz Cuplianos" (happy birthday) in Spanish followed by what sounded like the Cuban National Anthem. They joked and chided me for not being out of bed already to celebrate my birthday. It seems that in Cuba it's not your birthday that's important but your responsibility to celebrate your birthday with everyone else. Maydi came by a little later and invited me to a birthday party in the afternoon held for another friend of hers and myself. We danced the rest of the afternoon and drank Guarapo wine (made from sugar cane), Cuban Rum and a mint liqueur. I made an effort to dance with every mujer (woman) at the party. The hombres (men) were especially creative in their dance styles and rally livened up the fiesta with a lot of joking and very funny comic acts. We headed back to Havana in the afternoon, watching the sun set all the way.
    This morning a women showed up at my door with a clip board and told me and my neighbors that they were going to spray my  apartment for misquotes and cockroaches. I asked what day of the week they planned to do the work and she said "ahora" (now). We had 5 minutes to put all our food in the refrigerator and remove ourselves and any pets from the premises. In short order a worker with a gasoline powered pesticide sprayer appeared ready to give the place the once over. I was amazed to see that he didn't have any mask or respirator to protect him from the poison. All he had was a folded handkerchief that he kept wiping his face with. I was shocked. This worker was slowly being poisoned due to the lack of appropriate safety equipment.
    Odelkis and I finally  got it together and left Havana for Sancti Spiritus. Odelkis was exhausted after her week in the campo cutting sugar cane and leading over 500 students. They ran out of rice after the 3rd day and had to substitute guyabas for their carbohydrate source.The bus station was a fairly new one with functioning toilets. The bus was also new, built at the new Mercedes bus factory also recently built in Havana. It was one of the new joint ventures between the Cuban government and private capital. As I stepped into the bus and  felt a blast of frosty air I realized that I had repeated the same mistake that I had made on the train to Holguin with Odalis. I was dressed for the tropics in a thin T-shirt and shorts and now was going to be freezing my butt off for five hours in another rolling refrigerator.We arrived in Sancti Spiritus around 8:30 pm and caught a taxi to Odelkis's mom's house. After dinner we sat around and talked about my housing arrangements. They were concerned that the house I was to stay in was not a legal place for foreigners. This would subject the owner to a $1,500.00 fine if caught. A small fortune. We discussed the situation for a while and decided that since I was officially renting a house in Havana it would not be a problem.

This turned out to be a real fantasy.

 Around 6:00 in the morning I was awoken and given the bum's rush out of my illegal habituation into a legal hotel. The switch took about three and a half minutes. I did a two block sprint to the hotel, half dressed and carrying two suitcases. The neighborhood gossip network was alive with talk of the new extranergo (foreigner) staying in an illegal private home, a bad omen of more trouble to come.  This was especially significant since we had arrived late in the evening under the comer of darkness and walked seven blocks to the house. I think that our Neighborhood Watch in the U.S. could take a few notes from its Cuban cousin the CDR (Committee to Defend the Revolution).
    Well, itís now 9:30am and Iím stuck waiting for Odekis to show up. She made an appointment to meet at 8:30. I still havenít learned my lesson concerning the Cuban concept of time. Experience has shown me many times now that when a Cuban makes an appointment for 8:30 that means they get out of bed at 8:30 and start thinking about what they are going to do that day. Then around 9:30 or 10:00 they might look at their appointment calendar (if they have one) and see if there might be the remote possibility they may have to meet someone that day. It seems that the only thing that will make a Cuban to show up on time would be an invasion by hostile forces or the threat of a visit by the local police for illegal housing of foreigners.

    I discovered a delightful sensual experience today when I returned to my hotel room after a few hours walking around under the blazing sun. I was tired and hot so I took off all my clothes, turned on the fan and laid face down spread eagle on my bead. The gentle cool breeze felt like a thousand angels blowing cool, gentle kisses over my skin. My entire body rippled with sensual delight as I went in and out of a semiconscious blissful sleep. I felt like I had died and gone to heaven.
   Today is August 12, Fidel Castro's birthday and I can see one of the natural contributing factors to why this man is such a great leader. He was born in the middle of the astrological month of Leo which supposedly gives him the strongest leadership qualities that are the hallmark of being a Leo. Some would thus say that he had leadership qualities the moment he was born.
    I took a walk with Odelkis to find a taxi to Trinidad. Never take a walk with a Cuban friend through their own neighborhood if you are in a hurry or must be somewhere within a few days. I say this because if you do you will have to stop at least four times within each block as your Cuban friend runs into their neighbors, uncles, brothers, old friends and every other possible acquaintance imaginable. Then they have to go through the usual protocol of courtesies, ask about each other's health, discuss the weather and analyze Fidelís most recent speech. I swear that it took us one hour to walk just four blocks on our way to catch a taxi to Trinidad. I think that I could have driven to Trinidad and back in the time it took us to walk to the taxi area. That's because I was with two Cubans; Odelkis and her brother in law, so it took us double the time. It's a good thing that we weren't with any more of her family at the time or I would still be in Cuba trying to get to the taxi.
    We finally caught a taxi to Trinidad. It was a long drive, but definitely worth it. Many of the buildings in Trinidad go back to the 16th century. When we returned from the beach I suggested that we go to the disco that night. Odelkis wore a new very transparent blouse her mother had made her and her sister Olgita poured herself into a "dress" that I could swear was three sizes too small. It was an excellent example of what I call the "Cuban Spandex Challenge". Shortly after we arrived at the disco I asked Odelkis and her sister to dance, but both declined and told me that first there would be a Karioka session, then disco dancing. A few moments later the dance floor filled to capacity with lively and exuberant couples rocking and rolling to their hearts delight. This was not exactly a harbinger of a festive evening with my companions. Odelkis and her sister continued to sit in their chairs like a pair of nesting hens as one hot disco number after another played and the dancers proceeded to wear holes in the floor. I finally got up and went out to dance by myself. Odelkis's sister finally came out to join me and we had fun attempting to imitate the "real" dancers. I waited through two hours of very bad Karoke and a lot of second hand cigarette smoke waiting for Odelkis to acknowledge that it was OK to dance with me before the disco closed for the night to no avail. She appeared to be permanently glued to her chair. Evidently Odelkis really didn't like to dance. My ears began to really hurt from the loud music, even though I was wearing ear plugs made out of toilet paper. I finally threw in the towel and asked Odelkis for directions to her mother's house so I could leave the disco and walk back and get some fresh air along the way. The hazards of cigarette smoking are becoming well known but few are aware that  sound over 35 decibels can cause permanent hearing loss, especially over long periods. With ringing ears and burning lungs I escaped from the tortures of the disco to the beautiful, quiet solitude of the streets. I was surprised to see so many people still on the streets and sitting on their porches at such a late hour. I felt very safe walking down the dark streets, asking for directions from strangers as I worked my way back to Odelkis's house. It was an interesting evening in spite of the tortures of the disco. The long walk back to Odelki's was very interesting. The temperature was still very warm, most of the doors and windows were open in each of the homes as I passed by so I could get an intimate view  of Cuban family life. One family was  sitting in the street looking at their TV which was in their house because it was cooler outside. It made a rather surreal picture. A passing car was a rare occurrence and with a full moon out the street  was a very friendly and hospitable place.

    Odelkis and I arrived in Havana at dawn after a six hour bus ride from Sancti Spiritus. The bus was a new Mercedes, it was very comfortable and had an attendant serving beverages and pillows. In the evening I got together with my students from the Mac group for the last time before leaving Cuba and handed out prizes for completing the 3 page exam that I gave. Everyone who completed the test got a round of cheers and applause. They then had to give a short statement in English about when they were born, their major at the university and why they were taking the Mac course. Several students gave a short speech about how much they enjoyed the class and thanked me for making it possible.  Having early symptoms of a sore throat and a good source of ajo (garlic) on hand from Odalis's father's farm I gave a short lecture and demonstration on the antibiotic benefits of garlic and how to administer it properly. I held the group in total amazement as I held my nose with one hand and popped four good sized cloves into my mouth with the other. I chewed the garlic quickly and chased it down with some juice. My epiglottis and stomach convulsed in protest with the arrival of the burning tsunami of raw  garlic. I released my nose and gazed upon a sea of gaping mouths and contorted faces. I joked that it also had a side benefit of emergency birth control because no one would want to get near you after eating the garlic.
    Shortly after my demonstration someone slipped a garlic clove into the peanuts that the group director was eating, the rumor is that it was his novia (girlfriend). Rodrigo suddenly became very animated when he bit down on the clove. At first I thought he was trying out a new Cuban dance step as he proceeded to levitate  out of his chair and hopped around fanning his mouth. It was only after I realized that no music was playing and he started downing several glasses of water that I suspected something else was going on.
    Leaving Cuba has always been a mixed emoation for me. On the one hand I found the individual people, society and culture a delight to experience. On the other hand I had to return to work in the U.S.  This time however, after my many torturas, especially the overall experience of the Cuban summer in the months of July and August it wasn't so difficult. I think that in the future I will make my visits to Cuba in the Spring, Fall or Winter and spend the Summers in the higher lattitudes.