Tuesday, June 1, 2010

Flamingoville

And there's a reason "Flaming" is in their name.

We're back from Cuba . . . what a hell of a trip. In more ways than one.

I won't take up too much of your time at the moment but will post some of the pictures I took, with little descriptions below them. The real rant will come later . . .


Looks just like a postcard, eh? Maybe I've found a new vocation. Postcard photographer. This was just one of the views of the beach. What it can't convey is how damned hot it was . . .


One of the bizarre spider-like plants that seem to be everywhere. I'll ask my carnivorous-plant friend Rick what the hell these are.



I don't think I was in a heck of a good mood when Brigitte snapped this. You might be able to see how swollen my eyes are. I still can't figure out what happened, but one morning they were almost swollen shut. But this is the Italian restaurant . . . the service was bad, but the food was lousy.




One day when I was alone on the beach this guy comes up to me. "What's your name?" he says. "My name is my name," say I, not exactly in a chatty mood. "What's your name?"

"My name is my name too," says he. 

Well, I almost said "Okay, jou wanna come in the door again and we can start all over? Is that what you want, mang?" But I didn't.


Looks like some character right out of Scarface, doesn't he? Well, he pretty much was. Someone there described him as "The Mafia boss of the beach."
Well, so long, bub. You're gonna make it big in pictures.


 This was one of the buildings at the hotel. All of them were color-coded. I was just transfixed by the juxtaposition of the clean brilliant pink lines against the blue sky. Our building was a drab brown. Too bad.



And these were my lil' friends. Like an old Jewish couple, they lived in a small enclosure near the lobby bar. I fed them table scraps every time we went to dinner. I know you don't know it, but flamingos can make quite a ruckus. They honk. And soon, every time I walked by -- and only I -- they'd honk at me. I named them Pedro and Maria. According to the staff, they'd been at the hotel for many, many years . . .
Aren't they just downright adorable?

I think at this point I'd been basted one time too many.


My friend Julio here is wearing the Hawaiian shirt I gave him. He in turn supplied us with surreptitious bottles of rum. Poor Julio. He's a computer specialist but he earns $25 a month working 26 12-hour days busing tables at the beach bar.





And here's who I dubbed the "Pimps 'n' Skanks Gang." Who knows where they came from but they hung around in a pack poolside and drank and smoked till the stimulants ran out.




But of all the footprints on all of the beaches in the world, mine is that one, just there on the left, near the shore . . .

2 comments:

  1. Wow, looks fun but hot. Even the sand is wearing white. The flamingoes are adorable!

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  2. Yeah, that picture of the beach was taken at about 7 a.m., but even at 2 p.m. there was hardly anyone on it except hawkers. And the sun is downright merciless.

    I saw quite a few cases who should have been in ER because of their sunburns. Such a waste of the sun when you're just going to end up looking like a leper.

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