Havana to Home
The rain is falling in torrents transforming the cobblestone streets into rivers, deep enough that the water floods up over the curbs and laps at the doorsteps of the shops and homes along the way.
Weezie and I pop into the “Bohemian Havana Bar Liberia” to celebrate our last night here. She had chosen the place, and could not of done better.
We hopped up the stone steps into a small intimate room, and were greeted by the owner. He was an artist, historian, and collector, as well as, a barman and the small rooms walls were covered with artifacts, books, paintings and photos. It was a museum of sorts. We sat at the small wooden bar and he served us mojitos as we asked about his collections. Every item had a story intertwined with Cuba’s history and each story drew us deeper and deeper into the Cuban experience. My ears were hyper focused on everything he shared and I would turn to Weezie and translate for her what I could.
As the rain pummeled the street outside our cozy nook, one Mojito turned into two, and one hour turned into two and then more. We sat and listened and asked and learned as the evening whiled itself away. A perfect ending to a perfect trip.
I haven’t written very much about the bicycling aspect of this trip, but rest assured there was plenty of it. I will post a map of our route tomorrow. I love to bike, but I view it as a catalyst for exploration. The biking is the easy part. My friend Weezie was a perfect companion. She did indeed open doors like I had thought she would, always game, always warm and always curious.
This trip was different from anything I have ever done before because this time, it wasn’t about me; pushing through some challenge. It wasn’t about the landscape (which was very beautiful), it was about the people.
The story of Cuba is both fascinating and heart wrenching and as we fly home today, I am deeply struck by how fortunate I am to have the freedom that I do and how welcomed I was by all the people who don’t.