Tag: Cuba

Fleeing to freedom

PEOPLE RUN AWAY from Cuba when possible, usually afloat. People flee Venezuela when they can, across the border to capitalist Colombia.

Great Britain voted to leave the European Union. And now sensible Americans are dumping the Democrat Party. All are fleeing dismal collectivism.

There’s a YouTube campaign, #WalkAway, that also has a website. It’s devoted to the ballooning quantity of people who are dumping the Democrat Party.

All of the above — Cuba, Venezuela, Brexit, the Democrat Party — involve people seeing the light and exiting collectivism stage left. No one is swimming from Key West to Cuba nor moving from Colombia to Venezuela nor chomping at the bit to become a part of the European Union nor shifting allegiance from the GOP, thinking Democrats have a better way.

It’s a one-way boulevard, 100 percent. The movement is toward capitalism and freedom, away from collectivism and oppression.

owensAnd this week, political phenomenon Candace Owens kicked off the Blexit Movement, blacks exiting the Democrat Party, leaving the plantation, as they accurately phrase it.

All of the above puts a smile on my face. It should put one on yours too.

Cuba gets internet!

serveimageOH, SURE, internet has been available in Cuba for a spell for certain hotshots, but now regular Cubans will be eligible to surf the web.

Of course, the cost will be high and the connection speed will be dicey but, hey, that’s better than nothing, right?

I learned about this development from a story on the PanAm Post. Some readers will recall that we went to Cuba in 2012 for our 10th anniversary. I wrote a two-parter here that I later combined on its own website, redhellhole.

Inch by inch, Cuba is coming out of its cave, the grim time that began with the success of the Castroite Revolution that guaranteed a low standard of living for everyone. Well, except for the Castro boys and their cronies. They’re filthy rich.

To this day you run into plenty of clueless individuals who hold Cuban communism in high regard. Few, if any, of them choose to live in Cuba, of course.

Far from home

Cuban spread

WE PASSED 15 years of matrimony last month and had planned on spending a few days on the Pacific sands to mark the happy event, but it never happened.

My dental work intervened, not just the visits to the dentist but the cost too, which took a good chunk out of the checkbook. Sure, we could still go to the beach, but the moment has passed, plus it’s hot as hell there right now.

We decided to just “celebrate” with a nice meal at a Cuban restaurant in the state capital. The restaurant offers a “Cuban banquet,” and we ordered that … for two.

That was last weekend. The banquet is quite good. The only beef I have with it is they plop everything on your table at the same time. It should come in stages, especially the warm dessert.

We’ve also eaten Cuban food in Cuba, of course, and it was good, but I wouldn’t recommend visiting Cuba. It’s depressing.

Lying in bed this morning before dawn, I was thinking about the United States where I was born and where I have not set foot in eight years. I likely will never set foot there again.

Years of separation, living in a very different society, affects your mind, your viewpoint, your perspective and so on. I’m sure that a visit now would be jarring.

The Germanic efficiency, the rules, the regulations, the cops who actually pay attention to your speed, the need to watch your mouth, be “sensitive.” Indeed, the entire humorless, asexual, multicultural mess that exists up there.

Don’t think I’d care for any of it.

I would enjoy a New Orleans snow cone and beignets on the banks of the Mississippi. But I would reel at prices that would seem stunning due to the exchange rate of the last few years and my no longer having access to dollars.

But mostly it would be a thump to my psyche.

Most Americans who live down here appear to flee back over the border on a regular basis, avoiding that thump.

I have no plans to return, ever.

Not to America. Not to Cuba either.

Up in the sky

SUNDAY WAS the final installment of a three-day, hot-air balloon festival in our mountaintop town.

I shot this brief video from our upstairs terraza.

The airport, and that’s using the term loosely, rests on the edge of my neighborhood on the outskirts of town. It’s a dirt strip that goes virtually unused all year.

There is a hangar there, and a DC-9 without wings on display. A funny story that. The DC-9 was brought here on a massive flatbed tractor-trailer some years back.

It had almost completed the trip when it had to make a right turn from one highway to a lesser road just three blocks from the Hacienda. There is an incline to the roadbed and, halfway around the curve, the jet fell off the trailer.

It rolled briefly toward a carnitas stand about 20 feet away. I imagine those seconds were endless to the crew cutting carnitas. It’s not often you see a DC-9 rolling your way.

The jet was hoisted back upon the trailer and continued the short distance to our airport where it now lives.

The hangar there, the DC-9 and, previously, an ultralight service is owned by some well-off individual. The ultralight service has gone out of business due to lack of, well, business.

Once I drove over there to inquire about learning to fly ultralights, something I never got around to, and the fellow let me go inside the DC-9, which was lots of fun.

I have a private-pilot’s license though I haven’t used it since the 1970s. It never expires. I also took a number of sailplane lessons in Central Texas, but I never got that license either.

There’s something a bit unnerving about being up in a plane with no means of propulsion whatsoever.

I skydived once in Louisiana, and I went up in a hot-air balloon once in Texas. Giving my mother near heart attacks apparently was an unconscious, lifetime goal.

And then there were the motorcycles.

She’s dead now, so I’ve quit doing all that stuff.

My father could not have cared less.

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(Promo! For those of you who have not recently visited — or never have — my SlickPic photos, there is a new look and new photos. The SlickPic Gallery is where you’ll find gobs of photos of the Hacienda through the years, our Cuba visit in 2012, photos of the Downtown Casita (available on AirBnB), my art furniture, Mexico in general and, last but not least, a blow by blow — photo-wise — of the construction of our free-standing pastry kitchen.)