Cayo Coco, Day One.

If you ever find yourself in Cuba, looking for something to do for the weekend, hop in a car for 6 hours, and drive to Cayo Coco. Seriously, you will not regret it.

Cayo Coco is a caye just northeast of the mainland of Cuba, with a handful of resorts scattered around the island. Our home for the weekend was called Hotel Iberostar, and it was great - decked out with pools, a spa, a couple of nice dining areas, a mini gym, a cigar lounge and direct access to the beach. There were even daily and nightly activities to partake in, had we so desired (think water aerobics and evening dance shows). The hotel was also full of Europeans and Canadians. Lots of Canadians.

The entrance to the hotel.

This sweet car was a permanent fixture in the lobby.

Of all the traveling I've done, not much of it has been spent at resorts, so it was pretty exciting to be in an "all-inclusive" hotel. You can not imagine my joy at discovering that we could get hot dogs and french fries at any time of day. The last time I was at an all inclusive hotel was when Daniel and I went skiing in Uludag, Turkey. While it's incredibly convenient to have everything taken care of, it's just a style of traveling to which I am unaccustomed. Needless to say, it was nice.

After we had dropped our stuff off in our rooms, we proceeded to do things in order of greatest importance. So, obviously, we hit up the restaurant by the pool for hot dogs and french fries, first. When we had finished eating, a guy came around to our table with a hawk perched on his arm, asking if we wanted to pet and hold the hawk. It took us about a second to think that one over.

Hawks = Awesome. Also, check out my shiny, new engagement ring! :)

Our next mission: Find the beach and do a whole lot of nothing.

MISSION ACCOMPLISHED.

Missing this view, right about now.

As you can imagine, we were pretty spent after our tough afternoon of frolicking in the ocean. We cleaned ourselves up, and made our way to the main restaurant area for some dinner. We managed to catch the last little bit of the hotel evening show, and I stopped in at the hotel gift shop to pick up some post cards, but we didn't stay up too late. Much to our excitement, we had some scuba diving to look forward to the next morning!

A 90 mile swim.

As I type, there is a woman in the final stages of her swim from Havana, Cuba to the Florida Keys. If she makes it, Diana Nyad will be the first person to have made the 90 mile swim without the use of a shark cage, setting a pretty incredible record. She calls it her "Xtreme Dream".

All I could think about when I saw the headline was how staggering a task that really is. I am no long distance swimmer, so I can't say I know what she's going through. I have, however, battled the currents of the Cuban waters while scuba diving along Havana's coast, so I can attest to the fact that swimming against those waters is unbelievably difficult. No doubt, it is beautiful, but those currents are strong.

For example, on one of my last days in Havana, a few of us were hoping to go for a dive just off of the rocks in Havana. It was a sunny day, but the waters were pretty rough, so we weren't sure if we should go. Ultimately, we were up for an adventure, so we just decided to go for it.

That dive was easily the hardest dive I've ever been on.

Getting in the water proved difficult from the get-go (that should have been our first sign). The waves were mildly rough, but we jumped in, put our gear on and had a solid drift dive. The plan was to drift along the coast for a couple hundred meters (about 50 minutes), and resurface where we could climb out in an "easier" location (with some rudimentary steps leading out of the water). As it happened, we missed the exit point by about 50 meters. We inflated our BCDs and surface kicked against the current for what seemed like hours. Most of the time, it felt like we weren't even making any progress. But alas, we made it to our originally planned exit point. We got battered by waves coming in, and took a few tumbles. Once we reached the exit spot, we realized that there wasn't really an exit (*facepalm*). So, we threw our gear over a ledge, hopped over a wall, and walked across a wave-bashed cove, bracing ourselves whenever a big wave hit. We finally reached a spot where we could lift ourselves up and onto the street.

The dive information from someone's logbook that day.

It is no surprise to me that there has yet to be a successful attempt (perhaps today is the day?) at swimming the 90 miles between Havana, Cuba and the Florida Keys. Having experienced even slightly the natural elements of those waters, I am even more staggered by Diana Nyad's attempts. Seriously, more power to her. This is her website, if you want to follow her in her last few miles.

4pm Update: Just before 2pm Eastern time, Diana Nyad becomes the first person to successfully complete the swim from Havana, Cuba to the Florida Keys without the aid of a shark cage.
http://us.cnn.com/2013/09/02/world/americas/diana-nyad-cuba-florida-swim/index.html?hpt=hp_t1

The Long Drive.

On my third day in Cuba, Daniel and I, with a couple of good friends, made the long drive from Havana to Cayo Coco, where we planned to spend a few days relaxing, scuba diving, sun-bathing, and beach-going (I know, it's a hard life). Cayo Coco is an absolutely beautiful resort town of the same ilk as Varadero, just way, way farther away. As we drove the 6 hours through the Cuban countryside, we passed through a few towns and got to see some areas of untouched beauty. Some of the landscape could have been right out of Jurassic Park.

We tried to get a few snapshots along the way, hoping to capture the atmosphere of what we were seeing. A moving car made that difficult, but we did get a few (or a lot). 

I can hear John Williams as I type.

Spot the two rancheros! ^^^

Whenever I visit a new place, I like to see what life is like for the people that live there. I mean real life. I'm not the kind of person to pack as many tourist attractions and museums as possible into each day. I would much rather roam around local side streets or villages, watching people in their everyday routines. That kind of stuff says more about a culture than anything you can read in a Lonely Planet travel guide. (I don't have anything against tourist attractions - that's just not where the gold is.)

Our road trip afforded us a view into a part of Cuba (albeit a small part) about which I knew nothing.
Here are some photos from our road trip(s), for your browsing...

It wouldn't be Cuba if there weren't pretty cars!

A Cuban rest stop.

One of the first towns we passed through.

Cayo Coco...in the distance.

In Cuba, they don't mess around with transportation. Horse and buggy, bike, sidecar, classic car. You name it, they've got it.

You can add tractor to that list.

Incredible artwork in Ciego de Avila, one of the towns we drove through on our way to Cayo Coco.

A Cuban Main Street.

Traffic jam.

The land bridge we crossed in our final stretch to Cayo Coco.

Cayo Coco. Where all your dreams come true.

             On the way back...

The most retro phonebooths I've seen in any city (sorry, London).

A car that, as you can see, literally sparkled. Somebody was a little excited...

Just some explosives, nbd.

El Malecón.

The day I arrived into Havana, Daniel and I took a long walk along the Malecón. We needed to get from the hotel to the other side of Havana via this road, and after our ride didn't work out, we just decided to make the trek on foot. I'm so glad we did, too.

The Malecón is the road that spans a long portion of the city along the sea front of Havana. To me, it is iconic of the city, in a way. 

Walking down the Malecón the first night.

We walked the few miles along the water, watching the classic cars drive by and just enjoying the atmosphere. I must admit, I felt incredibly fortunate. Cuba isn't a country where many (American) people get to visit, and that certainly didn't escape me as we walked down the famed, seaside road that night.

The next day, we crossed over to the other side of the harbor, and we got a full view of the Malecón. AMAZING.

(Call me crazy, but the Malecón reminded me of the Corniche in Jeddah, so I actually felt right at home.)

The Corniche, Jeddah, Saudi Arabia.

 Anybody else see it? Just me? Anyway...

We traveled along the Malecón, both on foot and in the car, several times in the few days I was there. Of course, my snap-happy fingers snagged some sweet photos.

Looking over at the lighthouse from the Malecón.

A couple of fisherman.

A really big boat.

Cristal, "La cerveza preferida de Cuba". It doesn't get much more Cuban than this.

Three years later, a fresh start.

It's been a little while since I've written anything here. (My blog doesn't judge.) Since then, I've seen and done some pretty incredible things, and honestly, I wish I had been recording them up until now. Alas, it was not meant to be. My most recent trip to Cuba, though, has inspired me to start writing again. Some things are too cool not to share.

So, I gave the blog a facelift. And there is more to come in the next few days. That is all for now.

Just to pique your interest, I leave you with these photos from Cuba.

El Malecón.

The most beautiful beach I have ever seen. Playa Pilar, Cuba.

Universidad de la Habana

Maybe you're asking yourself, "Is that a naked woman, holding a fork, riding a rooster?"

YES IT IS.

La Habana Vieja.

Graduation, garden parties and goodbyes.

So, I have left St. Andrews for the final time.

It was actually a lot harder than I was anticipating. I almost feel like I'm mourning the loss of a friend. Obviously I mourn the loss of a group of friends that might not all be together in one place ever again. All those friends whom I love, you know who you are, and I couldn't possible say enough about how much you've meant to me over the past 4 years. I won't insult you with trying, except to say that you have made me a better person. Thank you.

I'm also aware of the loss of my friends from Spanish and Biology classes - I honestly didn't realize how highly I thought of them all until, well, leaving. But I also am mourning the loss of St. Andrews itself. East and West Sands, the castle, the cathedral - even the bells at every hour  and the annoying cobble streets. Butler and Co. Fisher and Donaldson. Costa at 7am. The 70s era library. Sallies quad. St. Mary's quad. Bibi's cafe (Harbour House!). The golf course. The list could go on and on. A big part of me knows that St. Andrews won't be the same after this generation of students leaves, so there's no point being sad about being away from the town. I guess what makes me sad is that I've had to say goodbye to this part of my life. University. Relative non-responsibility. The end of an era.

It's not like I don't have anything going for me. I really have great opportunities ahead of me, and I feel so fortunate to be backed by a family that loves me, friends by my side (even if not quite literally) and a BSc (Hons) from an internationally respected academic institution. I'm not silly enough to feel entitled to all of this, and I will continue to be grateful for everything that's happened in my life - good and bad. It was all for a reason.

Grad Ball was the perfect way to finish off a week of garden parties and academic processions, along with four years of living the St. Andrews life. I mean, oh my life.

Within 2 minutes of being there, I could tell that it would be the best ball of my St. Andrews career, and it did not disappoint. Maybe it was because there were only people there that I cared about. Some old friends even made some cameo appearances! The live bands, the ceilidh and the beautiful weather certainly helped to make it an amazing night, but I have to think that, most of all, it was knowing that it was the last time we would all be together, but also that we had every reason to celebrate.

After the ball came to an end with bagpipes and Auld Lang Syne, we snuck into the castle and watched the sun come up, along with fireworks and lanterns floating into the sky. Then we hiked down to the beach at Castle Sands and just sat in silence, knowing that we were saying goodbye to so many things. So many graduates had gathered at the beach, building bonfires and reminiscing about the last few years.

5 hours later, I walked out of my house on Hepburn Gardens with far too little sleep, and already missing the girls. But I carried so much with me as I left. The kind of stuff that I'm happy to bring with me wherever I go, that doesn't cost any extra to bring on a plane and that you don't have to find storage for when you move from place to place.

Chi-town.

It's about time for me to start talking about what's up in Chi-town.

Basically, I'm here on a fellowship, working on a congressional campaign to elect Dan Seals as the Representive for the 10th District of Illinois (or the area just north of Chicago). He's seriously awesome, and my love for him falls just below that of Obama. Sadly, though, I'm not sure how much I can write about the specific work that I'm doing in the campaign - I feel pretty badass saying that - because I signed a release in the beginning saying I wouldn't blog about it. So, while I'm still able to blog about life in general (I think), I can't say much about what I'm doing at work. (Plus, I don't want to be the one that tips off the opponent's campaign about anything really important.) But, it's not like I would want to go into great detail about that stuff anyway, given the hours-long monotony of it all. Some of it is really cool - and some of it just...isn't. That's the way it goes, I guess.

I'm living in Wilmette, which is an upper-class neighborhood that boasts its proximity to both the city of Chicago, and Lake Michigan. While I neither completely fit in with, nor understand the ridiculously wealthy lifestyle around here, I must admit that it is beautiful. Mary, the woman with whom I'm living, took us (Sammy, my housemate, and me) on a drive around the village of Wilmette and Kenilworth in the first couple of days, and showed us some beautiful houses, and the gorgeous lake about 5 minutes down the road. Frank Lloyd Wright has designed some houses in this area, and Chris Kennedy, son of Robert, lives here too.

I really am impressed by it all, and if I'm honest, a little part of me feels drawn to the path in life that would lead to the wealth and 'success' that surrounds me as I type. Who wouldn't? 

I don't think I could have experienced a much more different atmosphere to Wilmette than the area I went to with some friends over the weekend. This past Saturday, my fellow fellows and I took a trip to the west side of Chicago to help out at a food give-away in Humboldt Park. As we were riding on the bus, there was a very clear moment when we crossed the boundary from beautiful downtown, tourist-laden Chicago to the degraded, poverty-stricken neighborhoods just outside. I mean, really, the differences are stark. And shocking. And upsetting.

Even though we were an hour and a half late for the food give-away, we were still of some custodial use, and we helped sweep, mop and wipe down the cafeteria. While we were cleaning, a little girl came over and was standing by the door, just watching us. She was only seven,  her name was Jakhiya and she was beautiful. I don't really know much about her story (although I did ask the typical 7 year old questions - "what school do you go to?", "what's your teacher's name?", "is she nice?", etc.), except that she spends everyday at that YMCA. Every. Day. 

Her other friend, Toniyah, probably does, too. They go to school, and from there, go straight to the Y. They get help on their homework, play sports, do activities, etc. I guess that's a good thing in many ways. At least they're there and being taken care of, rather than somewhere where they're not being looked after. It's not like you can blame their parents (maybe you can - like I said, I don't know the story) who probably have to work double shifts and multiple jobs just to feed Jakhiya and her five siblings. 

It took all of about 30 seconds for Jakhiya to come out of her shell and walk me around the building, and ask to help with the cleaning. A little part of me thinks she just appreciated that somebody appreciated her. It's not like I even did anything. I just talked and joked and listened for a whole 30 minutes. I would hate to think that I played a part in "rescuing" her that day, I'm certainly not that conceited. But it really was rewarding just to be there to talk and joke and listen. 

In only an hour and a half of time spent in Humboldt Park, I had my eyes opened to some of the poverty that exists a mere train ride away from the exceedingly wealthy North Shore. It was a very grounding experience. I would just *love* to hear, one more time, how we're all given the same chance at birth to succeed. "It's all about education and hard work. If you want it badly enough, you'll make it happen. Pull yourself up by your own bootstraps!" 

A lot of the people in Humboldt Park probably don't even have any bootstraps, damnit. 

Ok, rant over. It just seems very surreal to me that such disparate worlds can exist in such close proximity to each other. I'm trying not to build up any super-idealistic notions about the whole situation, but I feel like, while I'm here, I have a really good opportunity to help, in a very practical way. It's kind of a relief to know that my summer doesn't need to be spent floating around one of the wealthiest zip codes in America (which, I might add, isn't wholly wrong in itself). I love what I'm doing in the campaign, really, I do. I also think that it's a worthy campaign, for an overly worthy candidate. But if I'm honest with myself, on some levels it's a selfish endeavor, and I know I can do more. Just, more.