Learning to salsa in Cuba

Finishing the last bite of papaya with my eye on the clock, I snatched my purse off the bed and dash out the door. I was in Havana and on my way to take my very first salsa lesson! 

As I arrive at the dance studio, salsa music floats through the air. I pass by small rooms with clients sweating profusely as they learn salsa secrets. 
If you could squeeze the air, drops of sensuality would drip out of it. It was hot and humid, like usual. It seemed fitting. 
I meet my instructor, a 25 year old Cuban. He's short and fit with a mellow demeanor. He introduces himself as Adrienne. 

 I was a good foot taller than him. This is nothing unusual in the world of Rachel.
He shows me to our personal studio and we get down to business. 
He says there are 7 steps in salsa and he would be teaching me 4 of them that day. 
We start off by standing side by side.  I watch my footwork in the mirror as I try to ingrain the steps into my memory bank. 
Next, we practice the step together. 

He flips on the small CD player on the little wooden table. 
A Latino accented voice, mixed with an upbeat salsa tune, blares from the speaker. The man on the recorder repeats "uno, dos, tres, quatro"
Adrienne slips his hands in mine as our feet move to the rhythm. 
I feel a bit shy and uncomfortable being so intimately close to a stranger. My personal space is being violated! The room suddenly felt hotter. My body becomes rigid. He senses this and tells me to act natural. 

I tell him I've never salsa'd before and that I was kinda clumsy. 
He speaks little English, so I rely on my Spanish skills. 
He teaches me all 4 steps within 20 minutes. First we practice the step side-by-side, then we do it together. 
I picked up on them quickly. 
Taking my hands in his, he barks out orders, "step 1.... step 3..... now step 2!" He puts my memory to the test, jumping from one step to the next. I keep up and follow his lead, switching patterns effortlessly. The basics were coming easy to me. Perhaps I have a future as a salsa dancer?

After testing my knowledge, seeing if I faltered from his lightening quick footwork changes, he stops and takes a step back. In Spanish, he exclaims "you're very intelligent."
I guess I'm pretty good for my first time. 
He's pleased with the progress we're making and decides to teach me all 7 steps. 
I obediently follow his instructions, concentrating closely. 
"uno, dos, tres, quatro...."
After breezing through all 7 steps, we move on to bigger things: spins!

I got excited, this is what I pictured salsa to be. He says it's pertinent that our bodies are close. 
I follow his lead. I didn't feel like Adrienne was putting the moves on me, he was very professional. 

We swiveled our hips for 2 hours straight, stopping only to guzzle water. 
At the end of the lesson, I thanked Adrienne for showing me his slick skills, then watched the professionals tear up the dance floor in the front room before leaving the studio. 

The experienced sultry dancers floated around the floor, using what had to have been ESP to know each other's next move. They were the perfect compliment to each other. 
"Whoa, I have a long ways to go", I thought. 
But everyone has to start at the bottom. 
My brain really got a workout that day, trying to learn the moves while also translating everything Adrienne was saying. 

My first salsa class was a success. I'll check that off my bucket list.....

Someone pressed the pause button in Cuba

Cuba: a unique, dreamy place.... like no other. Frozen in time. It makes you want to say, "Hey, who pushed the pause button?!"
It's really a pity that our government has put a travel restriction on such a fascinating country. However, if there was no embargo restriction, Cuba would lack the charm that makes people fall in love with it. 

 Cubans ride in style in their 1950's Chevy, looking like a mob of gangsters coming down the road. Their aviator sunglasses and bronzed skin top off the look. Throw a cigar in your mouth, and you're the coolest cat around. 
Ohhhhhh yeeeaaaah. 

too cool for school

This is normal to them. I don't think they realize just how cool they are. Walking through Havana is like walking through one ginormous old car show. My dad and aunt would love it here. 
I was mesmerized by the myriad of old cars barreling by, the driver with his tan arm hung out the window, smoking a Cuban cigar, black smoke billowing out the exhaust. 

Every car in Havana could use a tune up, judging by the amount of blue smoke polluting the streets. I had a thick, yellow productive cough the entire time I was in Cuba. I'm blaming it on the horrendous pollution. Emission laws are unheard of. Were there emission laws in the 1950's? Of course not, that's why there's not one in Cuba. Stuck in time. 
I spent most of my time in Cuba wandering through the endless streets of "old Havana". I can promise you that I walked at least 10 miles a day. The scenery blew my mind and kept me fully entertained. I didn't even notice my sore feet screaming at me to rest. 
To people watch, I would rest my bones at a cafe, sipping a delectable Cuban coffee, re-energizing myself. A word about Cuban coffee: It's amazing!!

 All the guidebooks said Cuba was expensive. Obviously, whoever wrote the book was not a savvy traveler like myself. I ate at local places, stayed at local places, and enjoyed local scenery. I got a much richer experience by just wandering the streets, witnessing the locals in daily life and interacting with them as much as possible. It's a very raw experience. The best part is: it's FREE!
I observed local men playing chess or dominoes on beat-up wooden tables. Not a worry in the world. Cubans don't seem to have much stress. 

The malecon

They are some of the friendliest people I've met. Perhaps their stress-free mentality is due to their lack of communication with the outside world. They are in their own bubble. They live on an island and are completely taken care of by their government. What's to worry about?

Not once did I see a Cuban walking down the street talking on a cell phone. I don't think they even exist here. I did, however, see the locals using the pay phones quite frequently. 
Cuba is so behind in times, it doesn't even have internet. That's right. NO internet. The locals even told me that it was illegal. 
The only internet you will find is at the very fancy, expensive hotels. 

I was sent on a wild goose chase trying to find wi-fi during my first night in Havana. I was utterly shocked by the fact that there was no internet in this country. As the tears of frustration started to well up, I fully acknowledged the fact that I was addicted to technology. But to be honest, after a few days without internet, I felt liberated. I had no obligation to the outside world. I'm in Cuba, I can't be bothered. I could see how Cubans were so carefree. 
Each hotel I went to told me that their internet wasn't working or that they didn't have it and that I could try so-and-so hotel. After scrambling across town to that hotel, I was greatly let down when they would tell me they don't have internet either. What gives??!!
It wasn't a big deal to them to have internet at their hotel. You can't miss what you've never had, right?

The only reason why I was totally freaking out about finding internet that first night was to alert my mom that I had arrived safely and to let her know that she probably wouldn't be hearing from me for the rest of the week. My mind ran wild as I thought about how my mom would react if I went MIA for a week straight. I was nervous she would call the embassy and blow my cover. Who knows what extremes a nervous mom would go to when her daughter was alone overseas and missing. When I finally found the only internet connection in Havana, I paid $8 for an hour and had such poor connection that I couldn't even send an email. 
I give up!!! 

No stress here

I was able to send an iMessage to Dinh and asked him to notify my mom about the crappy internet situation. 
I am still so perplexed to how a country can function without internet. I never read anything about this internet situation on the internet. So I'm warning you. Don't plan to use the internet while you're here. You will get grey hair just trying to find a place that has it. By the way, the hotel that has the internet is named Parque Central. It's a posh hotel in the middle of town. Comfy chairs. Clean bathrooms. Snobby rich people. The whole works. 

I've always wondered how it would feel to be alive in the 1950's. Now I know!!

My first taste of Cooba (aka Cuba)

Cuba conjures up thoughts of hot, humid nights, cigars, Fidel Castro, salsa dancing and old 1950's cars. 

Cuba was everything I had imagined it to be, plus SO much more. 

After traveling for 3 months straight, I was becoming less and less wowed by the sights I was seeing. This was NOT the case with Cuba. It caught me off guard and quickly earned a prestigious spot at the top of my favorite travel destinations. It made me feel rejuvenated. 
This place is like no other. 
First of all, I know that all of you are thinking "isn't it illegal for Americans to go to Cuba?!" The answer is NO. It is only illegal to spend money here. 
Hey, Jay Z and Beyonce did it, so can I. 
Cuba is the forbidden fruit, and I was longing to take a big bite out of it. 

I don't know a single soul that has been to Cuba, so I gathered all my information from the internet. But there are certain things that you can't find in a guide book or on the internet. That's where I come in. I got your back, I have the inside scoop on Cuba if you ever desire to go. 
Don't be a scaredy cat. 
Ok, here's what you'll have to do before you go:
First of all, you cannot fly to Cuba directly from the US, on normal circumstances. If you get a special permit or fly with a special organization, you can fly on one of the rare flights from the US. 
But who wants to be tied down by a tour group?!
Flights are cheapest from Cancun, Mexico. I flew from Costa Rica, via Panama. I bought my ticket and hotel reservation from a travel agent in Costa Rica. I paid the travel agency, so technically I wasn't spending money in Cuba. 
Nah nah nah boo boo!!

You also need to buy a visa from the travel agent. Costs about $15.
Next, American credit cards and ATM cards will not work in Cuba, so don't even try. Bring all the cash you are going to need for your entire stay and guard it with your life. Don't bring American dollars because the exchange rate is horrendous. Bring Euros, Canadian dollars or British pounds. 
Then.... enjoy your Cuban vacation!!! 
It's really as simple as that. 

Everything went dandy on the journey over to this island in the Caribbean. I had a layover in Panama and had no hassle while boarding with my American passport to Cuba. 
However, when I touched down in Cuba, there was a small hiccup.....

As Cuba came into sight through the airplane window, I peered out at the mysterious land. Holy cow, I can't believe I'm in Cuba! I'm not supposed to be here. Ahahaha! This is going to be awesome. 

The second we touched down, everyone cheered and clapped. I've been on a lot of flights in my life, and I think the only time I've ever heard people cheer was while landing in Paris once, and it was a team of adolescent cheerleaders. These were grown men and women. Perhaps they were so overcome with happiness for being in Cuba that they couldn't contain their excitement. Cuba is that good, eh?
The flight attendant said "welcome to Cooba" and I giggled. 
Cooba. 
Yes, of course, I'm in Cooba. 

I step off the plane, the hot cloud of humidity hits me and has me feeling sluggish. As I'm walking towards customs, I ask a younger girl with a name tag where I can find a pen to fill out my immigration form. She asks me which country I'm a citizen of. I'm reluctant to give out this information, not knowing what will happen. 
"The US", I mumbled quickly.
Geez lady, I just asked you where a pen was, now you're getting all up in my business. She pointed at window #4 and instructed me to go there after I had found a pen. 
Thanks for nothing. 
I asked a nice local lady to borrow her pen, then feverishly filled out the form. I sashayed up to window #5. Window #4 had a strict, crabby looking man, I didn't think anything good could come of him. Behind window #5 was a young African American girl with a slicked back ponytail. 
She looks nice, I thought. 
I said a prayer and slid my worn passport towards her, greeting her with a polite "buenas tardes." 
She took my passport and started clicking away on her computer. I shyly asked in Spanish if she was going to stamp my passport. She smiled and said no. I feel a sense of relief. As an American, you do NOT want a Cuban stamp on your passport. 

I made my way through the archaic airport to the baggage claim. 
I waited for what seemed like forever for my big blue backpack to come floating down the carousel. I wasn't even quite sure if I was at the right carousel since nothing was marked. 
Old school. 

I heave my bag onto my back and bounce off to catch a taxi. 
I'm free! 
Just as I was about to cross through the "nothing to declare" door, a slender, dark skinned agent with a green uniform stops me. He rattles something off in Spanish. I look at him like I'm a dumb blonde. He asks if I speak Spanish and I say no. It's easier that way. He stumbles through his broken English, then gives up and goes to get another agent. They have me wait by a desk. 

They study me suspiciously, then ask me how much money I have. They ask me how many credit cards I have and what kinds of credit cards. Then they ask me if I have a computer and camera. They ask to see them. Paranoid, I pull out my cameras and computer out of my backpack. I ask if I did something wrong but they don't give me a straight answer. They write down what kind of cameras I have, how big the zoom is and how many memory cards I have. Actually, they wrote down EVERYTHING that I said. 
My mind reverts back to the time when I was flying from Kashmir, India to Delhi. The unprofessional Indian agent examined my camera for so long that I almost missed my flight. He looked through the pictures and at one point even took a picture of me with it. True story. I felt like I was in a twilight zone. 

The Cuban officials asked me where I was before Cuba and where I am going after.
"And before that... and before that?", they interrogated me. 
I had to tell them exactly how long I was in each country. My mind raced. What are they trying to get out of me? They asked me why I was in Cuba. I said I was just a tourist. They asked me what my occupation was. All the while, jotting everything down on a piece of paper and examining me closely as I gave each answer. 3 Cuban officials stood on one side of the table, I stood on the other, my backpack was feeling heavier with each passing minute, sweat trickling down my back. Do they think I'm a spy? That I'm trying to smuggle in something? Are they ever going to let me out of this airport? I'm just a stinking tourist, for God's sake!! 

I started to speak in Spanish. Surprised, they said, "So you can speak Spanish!" Shoot, they caught me in a lie. Oh God, all I want to do is explore this country and it's people, to learn how to salsa and to see the old cars and maybe smoke a cigar. Let me go now. Please. 

They told me to wait there. I watched as they walked over to some other green uniformed important people and discussed their findings with them. That's when I seen her. The girl had I originally asked for a pen was standing there talking to them, looking back at me periodically. 
That rat! She totally told on me and had them watch out for me on the other side after I told her I was American! They are obviously highly suspicious of American tourists coming to their country. 

Just as I was beginning to get concerned and the situation was bordering on absurdity with the amount of questions they were firing off at me, the mood lifted. One of the agents asked me how I liked the other countries. "What do you like about these countries? You like the food, the people, the dance?", he asked in a thick Cuban accent while gyrating his hips. I said that I loved it all and that I loved to travel, as he could see by the abundance of stamps in my passport. I knew everything was going to be ok when the agent winked at me. I'm just an innocent Midwestern gal who's curious about the world. Is that a crime? He said "Welcome to Cooba", as he handed me back my passport. I gingerly walked away, feeling like I had just escaped possible doom. Whew! 
Now to explore Cooba!!!

Arenal volcano hike

Hiking in Costa Rica is the cat's pajamas. You should probably go and do it. 
I can be a harsh critic when it comes to scenic hikes. My eyes have witnessed some pretty cool eye-popping views. You know I wouldn't say a country was beautiful unless it took my breath away, at least a couple of times. 
Costa Rica is beautiful.

Minus the crazy inflated price of Costa Rica, it has a lot going for it. My draw to the country was the wildlife and nature. I didn't leave disappointed. 
From the town of La Fortuna you can hike to the edge of a volcano called "Arenal volcano" with a mesmerizing blue lake in the middle. I had seen pictures and I was captivated by its beauty. I must see this lake!!

Along with Kate, an energetic backpacker from Florida, we set out to tackle the climb. A taxi brought us to the base of the volcano, which is a national park, so we had to fork over $10 before we could get in. 
The hike ascended the entire way, flattening out for just a small break, perfectly positioned at areas with the best views. 
Bright green vegetation surrounded us as we huffed and puffed up the hill. We joked about how we would have buns of steel by the end. 
Playing hop-scotch with tree trunks, we treaded gingerly up the volcano, gripping mosey trees for balance as we admired brightly colored flowers. 

Scrambling over rocks, the path became muddier the closer we got. My shoes would squish deep in the mud and make a funny suction cup noise when I yanked them out. 
Ever since I was a kid, I loved playing in the mud. 
Not much has changed. 

There's something about being connected to nature and getting intimate with the organic materials of this earth. Nature is my sanctuary. I'm my happiest there. 
A light mist breezed by and cooled us off as we neared the top. 
We met the rare hiker coming back down. 
"How was it?!", I asked with mud caked to my shoes and legs, a smile from ear to ear. 
They all said the same thing. Can't see anything because of the fog. Bummer rummer. 
We didn't let this get us down, the hike alone was rewarding enough. Even though Kate was 8 years younger than I and in the army, I had no problem keeping up with her. She was quick to get on my case in true military style when I stopped too long for a picture. 
"We gotta make it to the top before it gets dark!", she would yell.
We both got a great cardio workout in that day. 

The canopy of trees sheltered us from any further rain showers. 
The other hikers were right, you couldn't see anything at the top. 

Feeling successful nonetheless, we started our descent down. The slippery slopes were a challenge as we negotiated across the big boulders. 

The hike took us 4 hours altogether. We were pretty hungry at this point. Our 1.5 liter water bottles were nearly empty, too. We had sweated up a storm hoofing it up that mountain. 
On the way down, we stopped to pet some horses and take some silly pictures. 

 At the base of the mountain, there were no taxis to be found. The visitor center was shutting down also. We had a good hour of daylight left, so we decided to hitchhike back to town. 
(You didn't read that, mom.) 
Moseying on the gravel road back to town, we waited for a car to pass, but only semi's and dump trucks were plowing through the dusty road. 
Veering from our thumbs-up job, we see 2 little girls playing with a poodle puppy on their porch. Kate and I both squeal at the cuteness overload. We ask the little girls if we could pet him and before they could answer, the black fluffy pup ran over to us. He was full of energy and loved to give kisses. He had a tongue quicker than grease lightening!!!

Kate with the pup

Keeping a close eye on the clock, we continued on, just in case we had to walk the entire way back. 
Soon enough, a truck comes by and we jut our thumbs out. A truck with 5 local men pulls over. The driver has a sweet face and the rest of them look shyer than Buddhist monks. 
Ok, this looks pretty safe. 
In Spanish, we ask for a ride into town. They obliged and we jump into the back of the truck. 
We trucked down the dirt road for about 15 minutes before arriving at our destination. Thanking them as we jumped out, they looked for nothing in return. Good people. 
Traveling on the fly. That's how I roll. 
Floating around this world, I realize that days like these are some of the most memorable. I live for adventure, and that day I had found it.
The fog decided to steal our view of the lake that day, but I wouldn't mind the journey back up that volcano for the view another day. 

Nocturnal Costa RIca

Cost Rica is home to more than 500,000 species of wildlife, which equals 4% of species in the world. This is quite impressive, considering that Costa Rica is only about the size of West Virginia. 
60% of these species are nocturnal, so if you want to see these amazing creatures, you must take a walk on the dark side.

In the village of Monteverde, I met 3 other backpackers. We all wanted to do a night hike, so our hostel set us up with a tour for that same night. 
A van picked us up and transported us about 20 minutes into the exotic rainforest.

We meet our tour guide, a knowledgeable local lady. She gave all of us a flashlight to scout out the critters, along with her.

She warns us to watch our step and off we go, slinking through the night. 
The first species we see are bats. She made us turn off all our lights so they would fly closer. I felt the wind from one of their bat wings on my hair and screamed. My travel mates acted all coy, ain't no bats gonna bother them. 
Yea, maybe I am a little high strung and jumpy, but hey, gotta be on your toes out here!
On high alert, we move along. Soon we hear a mating call. Following the sound, we point our lights into the trees and there it is.... an OWL!! It was as cute as a button. I just love owls. 

I remember hearing the "whoo, whooo" from owls when I would play night games as a child in Minnesota. 

Venturing further into the night, our guide shouts out "Oop, be careful, we have leaf cutter ants here!"
A small army of ants had made a 2 lane highway across our path. The ants proudly paraded their pieces of leaf like a flag. 

They were the night shift workers. I wonder if, with more years of service, they'll be able to get a day shift position. 
We followed them to their house and discover an ant hill bigger than an SUV. She said there were millions of ants living in this mound. And only 1 queen ant. She's the boss. 

We stumble upon a stunning black and orange tarantula and my neck itches for the rest of the hike. 

As we traipse through the forest, we hear an eclectic mix of noises, from animals that I've never seen in this life. Costa Rica has hundreds of species that are endemic to this area. I feel so fortunate for seeing only a pinch of them.

Our guide stops suddenly and shines her flashlight into a tree. We all peer into the trunk and see a scared possum, as still as a statue. 

His long hairless tail drapes off the branch as his beady eyes stare into our inquisitive lights. 

There are 20 different venemous snakes in Costa Rica. We were lucky enough to run into one that night. I was actually the one who spotted it. Kuddos to me. 

Everyone had a watchful eye on it, especially this nervous Nelly. Anti-venom was just a 15 minute ride away.....

So many amazing things go on in the rainforests of Costa Rica as we're getting our zzzz's. There were so many insects we saw also. Such a unique experience. I give it 5 stars. 

Crafty Costa Rican coffee creations

Costa Rica has the #2 best coffee I've ever tasted in my life. (Cuba takes the #1 spot)
What makes it even groovier, is the way it's served.
Always with a cute design, carefully perfected by the bartender.
Sometimes I would order a cafe con leche (coffee with milk), just to see what design I would get, then squeal in delight at how cute it was :)

How cute is this?!

The magnificent wildlife of Manuel Antonio

Costa Rica has an amazing slice of paradise just south of San Jose, called Manuel Antonio National Park. It's teaming with wildlife and postcard-perfect views. 

The bus ride from San Jose to Manuel Antonio took about 4 hours. I decided to take the local bus, which was much cheaper, but more rugged than the comfortable tourist vans. Whenever possible, I choose the local mode of transport. I come to these countries to get to know the locals, not the tourists. It's not the most luxurious way to travel, but the end results are memories that will last a lifetime. 

It was easily the hottest bus ride I've ever taken. I was wearing shorts and a thin long-sleeved shirt, with the sleeves rolled up. I honestly thought about how the people would react around me if I just took my shirt off and sat there, dripping in sweat in my sports bra. I voted against that idea, but the thought definitely crossed my mind. In such extreme temperatures, your mind gets kinda bird-brained. I felt like a menopausal woman in the Mojave desert. The bus ride a few days earlier was colder than Antarctica, so you never know what you're going to get. My advice: always dress in layers for bus travel in Costa Rica. 

 I survived the ride, obviously, and was booted out in a small town near the national park. I met a couple from LA, named Shirley and Chris, who were also traveling around Costa Rica for a couple weeks. We decided to all share a room together. It's cheaper that way. 

We hiked through Manuel Antonio national park the next day. Like walking through a zoo with no fences, animals were popping up everywhere. A deer crosses our path, then someone spots a toucan, next thing you know, a family of howler monkey gymnasts swing over our heads. 

I had my eyes peeled for a sloth. I REALLY wanted to see a sloth!

The hike jutted out to a pristine beach, where we basked in the sun. Shirley and I frolicked in the clear blue ocean. The tranquil vibe was soothing. But the relaxation time didn't last long, soon we noticed a mischievous little raccoon creeping closer to our backpacks. He had smelled our snacks! 
He wasn't alone, he brought his wife and 3 kids, too. The 5 bandits came waddling out of the bushes, through the soft sand, straight toward our bags. Shirley and I make a mad dash out of the ocean. I'm running with my arms flailing above my head. The raccoon family stop and stare at the crazy gringa. I curl over in laughter. I snatch my bag before they can get their black little paws on it and make a free meal out of my banana. I get a close look at them and decide that they are genuinely adorable creatures. I want one as a pet. 
They looked like little robbers with their black mask, which was what they clearly were!!!
They had such a sweet look on their face and reminded me of a dog almost. One stopped to scratch his ear, looking very dog- like. 

The dad raccoon got to Shirley's yogurt drink before she could and dragged it back to the bushes for him and his family. 

He worked on twisting the cap off, then resorted to biting a hole in the side after he was unsuccessful. The pressure in the bottle burst out, startling the family. They all licked at the sweet liquid, then were off to see what more trouble they could get into. It was quite comical watching these naughty fur balls go from one tourists bag to the other. 

We love mischief

They had a feast that afternoon. Bananas, chips, beef jerky.... 
I was laughing so hard. I could have watched them all day. They were just so dang cute. Something tells me they've done this before :)

After the comedy show, we hiked further into the tropical rainforest. There were beautiful ocean views, mixed with lush canopy shaded areas and peaceful waterfalls. It really is a stunning country. 

We saw lots of iguanas sunning themselves proudly with their spiky mohawks. 

We minded our step, being careful not to step on one of the many poisonous snakes slithering through Costa Rica. 

Although we saw a lazy sloth hanging on a branch that day, it was covered by too many trees, so the view wasn't optimal.  But a few days later, on a van ride to Arenal volcano, our driver stopped so we could observe something. It was a 3-toed sloth! 
He was hanging upside down, traversing across a high wire with a sublime, mysterious smile painted on his face. His movements were deliberate and unhurried. Although he was getting rained on, he continued to move at a snails pace, his mangy coat dripping wet. I was ecstatic that I finally saw a sloth!!

Costa Rica is such a fun place. Light hearted and filled with spectacular beauty. Reminds me a bit of Thailand, although Costa Rica is much more expensive. 

It was such a great day. Put me in nature with lots of exotic animals and I'm a happy camper.