Opps

Funny how much you can suddenly miss someone when they're not where you always see them. It's strange, this trip I have seen him a lot less than previous trips simply because he is no longer out and about. I hate this constant waiting around and I hate myself for even waiting in the first place.

It's been fun and all, tanning and drinking all day but often times I wish I was able to do what I had came on this trip to do. To actually get to know who he really is and what I am doing. I feel pretty silly waiting for the disco to end and it's so blatantly obvious that this 'tourist' is only hanging around (often times solo) because she wants to be with the entertainer. In fact, writing that out made me blush and cringe. How embarrassing.

In the mean time, I have made a new Cuban friend and he is one of the dancers in the nightly shows. Thin little thing, the same age as me, and still has that honesty and openess about him that he is able to share things seasoned resort workers would hesitate to divulge. It is true though that Cubans do not take kindly to other Cubans over stepping the boundaries when it comes to 'their' tourist and Jorge had made sly references to the fact that I am talking to my new dancer friend but also states that he 'doesn't give a shit about that'. Likewise, new dancer friend also likes to make references to Jorge, even going as far to say that when I leave I should cry for him instead of for Jorge. *I will cry for neither, maybe just cry a little bit because I miss the sun, beach and pool* So this has been an interesting trip, meeting many new people...Cubans and Canadian tourists!

Ahem.

So to get back to the main point and title of this post. I may or may not have had a little too much fun with Jorge last night. I guess you must have saw that coming from a mile away, eventually this girl was going to get herself in trouble if she's returned 3 times to test her will power. It was a little disappointing, but it was also nice to finally get the sexual tension out of the way.

Cuba III

As I write this post, I am currently in Cuba. Back in paradise and back are those strange feelings I thought I got rid of. There must be some sort of code for when a member of the staff has staked a claim on a tourist. I feel like I get avoided like the plague and when I am approached there is a cautious undertone and sometimes reference to having a "boyfriend", which is news to me because I never agreed to be anyone's girlfriend (except for Sam - sorry Sam).

This time already I just feel plain stupid and embarrassed most of the time. Having to constantly be waiting even when it is way past my bedtime, I couldn't have picked a better staff to ensure minimum sleep. Every night I have to pretend to have enthusiasm for the 'disco' , and I have such a low tolerance for alcohol that I am often super tired by the time he gets off work. It's great that I have my friend with me this time, but there's only so many hours I can convince her to stay without making it an inconvenience for her. Don't even mention the 430am walk in the dark back into my own room, that walk often causes me to tsk and shake my head at myself.

Still, I haven't sunk so low as to sleep with Jorge, I still value the sacredness of "making love" as Jorge keeps trying to convince me to do LOL. I like spending time with him, but mostly just to talk and cuddle, which is totally not what any dude wants especially since he didn't get any action. I tell him he shouldn't waste time with me cause he's clearly getting rejected every night...but he slowly takes things further, testing the boundaries, typical man.

But let me share the most surprising and quite sad thing I have discovered on this visit to Cuba. I finally got to see his "room" back stage behind the curtains. Getting to see a place usually off limits to tourist is exciting and unique (be it the circumstances are less than glamorous). I am appalled that he and his colleagues all sleep in quite disgusting conditions seeing that they work and live on the resort 6 days a week. You would think the resort would put a little more effort in giving their staff a more humane way to rest. A tattered, torn couch serves as a bed for two grown men. There are broken drawers used to store their personal belongings. The stench of old clothes, sour shoes and body odour is very unappealing (which might be a plus as it really deters me from engaging in any love making session). There are lockers spewing with random belongings. Hooks on the wall where there is clothes hanging all over the place. A small sink and mirror in the corner of the room as their (hopefully not toilet AND shower) washing up area. It is incredibly sad to see and also incredibly hard to pretend like it doesn't faze me. The only good thing is that the room actually has aircon, which I am sure is a welcome luxury when the summer heat hits after long hours by the pool/ocean for their shift.

What. The. Actual. Fuck. I know that I am accustomed to having things and living in places meant for comfort, but if the hotel understands that their hotel rooms must be clean and have actual beds, isn't it common human rights to be provided with a proper room...or at the very least a BED?! How can two men sleep on a small little couch together, even if they were very much in love...I doubt they can hug each other tight enough to make it comfortable.

I tried to take a nap with Jorge after finally convincing him to remove his hand from my boob (also because it reminded me of how Sam likes to sleep - boob cupping) and couldn't help but cringe as I lay my head down on the offensive smelling couch. I swear he fell asleep within seconds. Aside from occasionally suffering from being too obnoxious and controlling - he must always be exhausted if he can fall asleep with a complete stranger. Hasn't anyone ever told you there are psychos in this world? Jorge is so lucky that I did not try to kill him in his sleep. It's kinda cute, feeling him fall asleep and be unguarded and vulnerable. He twitches like no tomorrow though so everytime I attempt to close my eyes, his arms shake my body and his feet nudges on mine. Still, I find it endearing but ended up getting up to leave as I started to become allergic to the dusty air and became congested. I regretted leaving the moment I looked down the hallway back at him and waved. He was such a cute little thing in his underwear and half asleep but peering out his room at me.

I wonder how many girls before me have laid down on that couch and how many after? But strangely enough - I really don't care because whether I do care or not, it doesn't change the reality of who he is and what he wants/needs to do to survive. Of course, I still ask him out of curiosity and he asks me if I'm jealous. Often times I wonder if I do get jealous but I have never felt jealous of Jorge and his no doubt unlimited amount of women available to him as I do about Sam.

Tripping

I think the drugs novelty of Cuba has begun to wear off almost four weeks since I've been home, don't get me wrong, I am still super excited about laying by the pool and doing nothing in approximately 18 days buuuut...

Now I feel like Jorge is going to serve as more of a nuisance than a past-time. I have to use all my self-control not to roll my eyes at things he keeps on repeating. I think he's the one with bad luck for meeting me *refreshing change, I suppose, for those Canadians that have been burned by Cuban trickery* I think it all started with the fact that he told me about his upcoming 'trip' to Havana and then when I brought it up again he asks me how I knew he was going to Havana? UMM not like I have the means to stalk you buddy, obviously you told me. So therefore it just further supports the fact that he cannot keep his stories straight, or at least have a good enough memory to remember what he has told each of the tourists he's been talking to.

I think this is a step in the right direction.

Terms of endearment

Not quite sure how I feel about being referred to as "mi China" (translation: my Chinese). I mean if I was Caucasian, would he say "my white girl" instead? Must be fun to treat people like novelty items, although then again if he called me "mi amor" I wouldn't be so pleased either.

I think the problem is, Jorge and I both have different expectations for this...relationship. I feel like he's going in one direction of being possessive and lovey dovey, whereas I am singing "girls just wanna have fun" on repeat.

I don't really know where I am going from here, and if anyone can relate to this (speak up if you're on the same boat). What do I call someone like Jorge? And why do I sometimes feel reluctant about him? Some days I think he's the bees knees, other days I kind of find him icky. Like why are you so intense and forward? Back off buddy. Maybe I just want to have the claim to fame on making a foreign friend, an interesting story to retell.

I just want to march right up to him and tell him we are "just friends" but as I've said before, even a friendship is hard pressed to be real. Why do guys, of any nationality, have to be so difficult to understand.

A harmless message or a warning?

I've been thinking. What is the whole point of me keeping a blog about this experience? Other than, as previously mentioned, as a momentum of days passed.

Does my blog warn others to stay far far away from this game of "let's see how far I dare to go"? Or is it a story that will allow those who are searching for a teensy tiny thread of reassurance that some good will come out of a situation like this?

I understand the feeling of grasping at straws, believe me. As another blogger had mentioned (her link is in my very first post), I recall desperately trying to find a real reason to return to Cuba other than another vacation. I tried to find volunteer positions, teaching opportunities and other avenues that would allow for a foreigner to stay in Cuba. Obviously, I found none that were immediate nor close in proximity to where I specifically wanted to be. *on an unrelated note: I wish I was this determined when it comes to other things in my life*

I would like to hope that regardless of whether this will become a lesson or a blessing, that you will find some humour in a situation that I will never truly be able to explain to those in my life.

I don't think, even though I am guilty of doing this, that there is single site on the internet that will give you the right answer in whether you should get involved with a Cuban or not. I see a lot of women posting and questioning whether their Cuban is telling the truth, or if they should believe them, or trying to justify their Cuban lover's behaviour. Just because someone on the internet says so, doesn't mean you should do so (whether they are optimistic or pessimistic). It's really up to you and your gut feeling. I think we would all like to feel like we're smarter and more cunning than we really are. That we're capable of building this invisible emotional wall and scoff that things like; getting tricked into marriage and than left with all the bills, would never happen to them personally. It can, has, and will continue to happen.

I can (hopefully) talk the talk, but can I walk the walk?

I just got another email, and the answer is there. They say curiosity killed the cat, I think spending more time with him will eventually reveal the result.

Reality VS Vacation

Today has been one of the roughest days at work, and it just got me thinking what a stark contrast there is between a vacation and a day in the life of...well me. I don't have a regular 9-5 job. No cubicle work for me. Without disclosing too much, I work with a specific population of challenging clients that exhibit behaviours such as aggression towards self and others.

Needless to say, today is the first day in more than a year that I have worked here that my hair was pulled, was bitten and almost kicked in the face. What a wake up call.

Who wouldn't take a vacation over that any day?

On the bright side, I live in a country that doesn't over work me with labour laws and what-nots. I think the one thing I learned from Jorge is, despite any intentions he may have, he shared his work ethics and life motto with me.

"It is what it is. You have to, need to, stay positive."

So I am going to look at today, this moment, and learn from it instead. It may not always be sunshine and rainbows, but life goes on and there's no point dwelling on negative feelings or thoughts.

The power of Cuba compells me

Here we are, two and half weeks after my return, I have booked another trip to Cuba with my friend *thankfully she smokes - finally a smoking buddy*

During my email correspondence with Jorge, he would always ask me when he will see me and that he misses me. Yeah yeah yeah, I don't think I miss him, I just have an over active imagination. Finally, I confessed that I was going to return to Cuba soon. But honestly, his email skills are quite lacking. I almost wished he had family members write on his behalf if it means it will go past the same few sentences he keeps sending me. I only know he's the one writing the emails because surprisingly he owns an iPhone 5 (which is indicative that he definitely has a wealthy girlfriend backing him) and every email I receive have been sent from an iPhone 5. I also creeped him when he was sending an email to me when I was literally sitting beside him still, so I know the format in which his emails arrive in.

Gosh. Let's go through the rotation of messages I get from him. And laughingly they are titled "amor" which is SO cliché because in all the forums I have browsed through, they all refer to these amor emails as the primary way scam artists get to the tourists. So in a kind of "f*** you" to the whole notion, I always change the title to "amigo" when I respond back to him because I am not your "love" or "little love", I can't even define what he is so he sure as hell is not defining who I am, grouping me into the same group of other tourists that fall for his...rather boring words. So here goes:

"I miss you, how r u doing?"
"How's life in Canada?"
"I miss you, I hope to see you soon"
"Te extrano"
"I hope I see you again, I miss you"
"Hola"
"What are you doing right now?"
"Send me a picture of you tomorrow" (This one was unique, he sure must think I'm stupid if I am going to send him a picture of me - in the age of the selfies, I don't think it's wise to be sending one to a Cuban)

Sometimes I think he picked the wrong girl to be spending 1CUC a message to, I am so cynical and have my own agenda/game. Maybe I do belong in Cuba. Anyways, the strange thing about these emails are that it's so one sided. Even when I respond and ask a polite "how are you?" In return, he doesn't ever answer my questions and instead charges on with the same but worded a little different email messages as shown above. Yet, I can't help but feel a little twinge of excitement and happiness when I see an email notification from him pop up.

So to sum it up, I have issues.

Forbidden fruit

Before I begin with my Cuba trip part three *FYI: is coming up in 26 days* I should talk about what I have been doing since I've returned home. We ended up exchanging email addresses so the moment I landed, I already had an email from him burning a hole in my inbox. Despite it being a run-on sentence, it was surprisingly articulate which also confirms my suspicions that he has practise writing these kind of emails. So should I play it cool and respond asap? Or wait the customary few days before I answered him.

My coolness flew out the window.

The eager side of me won, as per usual, and I responded on my way home from the airport. I did not respond that I missed him as how he has expressed he missed me, instead I wrote that I missed Cuba in general as the weather back home was so cold in stark contrast to the hot climate I left behind.

Hmm, maybe the weather difference is also a useful metaphor for describing the difference between Sam and Jorge. Not saying that Sam is frigid or cold in any way, he's reliable and cozy to me. But in contrast, Jorge is all passion and lust. Maybe this is why so many tourists "fall in love" with Cubans. They are everything we are not, be it maybe a little more manipulative and sneaky, but they are definitely more outwardly charming, romantic and again passionate. Their confidence and demure are so tantalizing, like a forbidden fruit. And looking back on history, temptation of something forbidden usually causes rules to be broken. Common sense dictates that getting involved with a Cuban is a huge no-no, but telling someone NO only makes them more adamant in saying YES, GIMME MORE!

So in short, we have been emailing almost daily. During this time, I've frequented so many sites to, I suppose, get some answers or affirmation that I wasn't going insane. On the surface, I am leading a normal life, going back to work and hanging out with friends. I refrained from telling the truth to my friends about whether I ever saw Jorge again and I think it's because part of me knows that it is unacceptable and frowned upon to be keeping in contact with him. When asked, I may have told a lie about him not even being on the resort anymore. Sigh. Writing this down makes me feel even more horrible as a person. But I shall continue.

Life with Sam continues as if nothing has happened, but I can feel the change. Watching TV and cuddling with him, only to be daydreaming about Jorge. Sam takes me out on dates and picks up the bill, as do I, because our relationship is based on equality and we always stress that the money we make is shared, there is no keeping score. What's mine is yours, and yours is mine. That's fair. In comparison, I know with Jorge (to no direct fault) that it will never be "black and white" like that. He won't be able to take me out on dates nor do I feel compelled to be his sugar momma. What I should be doing seems like a no-brainer right? I know but maybe I just like the emotional challenge.

The end of my second Cuba trip

All-in-all, I spent my second time in Cuba soaking in the sun and reading novels as I waited for darkness to fall so that I could spend a couple hours conversing and dancing with Jorge. There is a little more to those interactions, stolen kisses on the cheek, hugs that lasted a bit too long - but I swear on my cigarettes *you all know how much I need those* that there was no making out or hooking up that ever occurred during this week. Why would I lie to you? I basically wrote this blog so I could probably reread what an idiot I was a couple years later - so I don't believe in fabricating things here. Promise.

Here's the thing about his hugs - I felt like I was in a deep pressure hugging machine. Has anyone ever tried to deflate a floatation device or an air mattress? I felt like he was doing that. I wish I could laugh out loud about this with someone in real life because what a bizarre way of hugging he had. But of course, I have not shared any details with anyone in my life, except for you. It wasn't like he was trying to cop a feel, it was more like he was trying to tell me how much he wanted to hug me? Through a hug? I still have not decided whether I like those hugs or whether I am wholly embarrassed that I seem to get myself into such awkward situations.

We also spent a lot of time hiding from other tourists and the management staff when we were talking or hugging, it could also be that he's hiding from his wife that also works on this resort. See, I am not so naive as to think he doesn't have one and that it is a very real possibility that she works on this resort. He denies having a wife or even children - although did divulge that a lot of Cuban men have kids but are not married. I mean, how can you work six days a week for 16 hours a day and not fall in love with a Cuban colleague? They live and breathe this resort as it is pretty much their home. If I were a Cuban resort worker I would so find a hot coworker and be with them.

Anyways, on my last evening there (I was leaving on the earliest flight the next morning) we talked a lot, played a game of rock paper scissors *I am a girl that talks about random things and suggest random things to do to fill the silence during a conversation* and hugged. I had an envelope with some money in it (50 CUC) and a pair of sunglasses that he always tried to "make a deal" with me for but I never committed to trading him for it cause I like those sunglasses too.

AHA! I feel you judging me again. Why did I get money and materialistic things involved? I think about that often, I have no idea why. He never asked me for money nor was it ever implied that it would end in a "tip" because ew I am not hiring him for his conversation and dancing lessons. But maybe it's the inferiority complex that I tried so hard to avoid but in the end caved because "he has less than we do back at home" and I felt like doing some charity. Even now as I type this, I feel ashamed but then a little happy? because however he sees it, 50 CUC means way more to him than it will ever mean to me. Yes I am an asshole tourist who now set the precedent and encouraged this vicious cycle of "tipping" and maybe even screwed a future tourist that he may eventually get to marry him because now he thinks all tourists are definitely ballers. I AM SORRY but what's done is done - would I do it again? Most likely. It's kind of like the bystander effect, but the opposite. Or maybe the better analogy would be something like littering - what's one little gum wrapper going to do in the grand scheme of saving the earth? But little by little, things like this snow ball. Hey. I never claimed to be making the right choices - clearly - but I know I will receive heat for this blog eventually so I am going to be a little apologetic but also a repeat offender to the same mistakes. Anyways, he asked me what it was in the envelope and was super pleased about the sunglasses (they were in reality just from a shoe store for $10 - I would never let go of my fancy schmancy sunglasses). I replied that it was tip from my family and I, and walked away after saying good night.

I never saw him again after that. Got on a plane and caught up on precious sleep. Woke up and I was back at home - THE DEPRESSION IS REAL part two...

Sam

Going to take a little break and talk about Sam, my boyfriend, for a bit. You may be confused why Jorge is even in the picture if I have Sam.

In a very twisted way, I feel more confident that I won't be a "sucker" because I have Sam, and armed with an inability to commit to such thing as marriage - I also won't be a green card to any immigrants in the foreseeable future. I am purely just being quite a horrible person towards Sam and Jorge because neither knows about the other.

To be honest, my relationship with Sam is marred with deceit from both parties from the very beginning. I blame it on the fact that we started dating when we were still young and foolish - what high schooler goes into a summer relationship thinking it would last till now as we enter our mid-twenties? Time just flew by. We had our ups and downs. Break up and make ups, and now awaiting for the next step in life: moving in? getting engaged? Maybe I just wanted to broaden my horizon with experiences that I would never have back in my home country *mind out of gutters please - I didn't mean in THAT way* Sam is ever doting, ever faithful and always there when I needed him most. I am thankful I can hide behind my virtual mask because I am sure you would want to slap me silly right now. If I can say these nice things about Sam, what in the world am I doing in Cuba.

I have yet to find an answer for myself or for you. All I know is, there is definitely a certain degree of lust and maybe the thrill of being in a country that is cut off from the outside world - whatever happens here kind of does stay here *unlike Vegas - I've been to Vegas and shit does not remain in Vegas* I could be who I want here and all my responsibilities of being that girl who has to go to work and be that girlfriend whose always picking a fight with her boyfriend over trivial things.

So maybe this blog isn't purely about a relationship with a Cuban (I use the term relationship loosely - but I can't really say friendship with confidence either because there can be no relationship or friendship when it is based on such inequalities of wealth, and status - this sounds wrong but I don't mean being superior or anything offensive of that nature, just that we are two different people from two different worlds, Jorge and I) This blog is more about what the hell I am doing with my life and the lives of two very different men.

I will probably never leave Sam unless he decides he wants to go. I am simply a selfish girl who wants the best of both worlds and you are here along for the ride until I figure it out.

Amigos

The rest of the week following that encounter was that he would seek me out when I was poolside *I do have such a knack for strategically placing myself in good spots eh ;)* stop me in the buffet to say hi even when I pretended to look at everything else but him and only knew he was there when he called my name *seriously - maybe I should forget work and become an actress instead* My family would jokingly tell me that my "friend" was looking for me whenever I happened to step away from her (to hide and smoke - sheesh I cannot handle the stress of not being able to enjoy a cigarette whenever I pleased like before)

I would catch him lingering around the bar stealing glances before the nightly shows, but never did I let on that I actually knew he was there until he approached. I'd sit next to him for a bit but the conversations were always quite repetitive - if a guy back at home tried to capture my interest by continually repeating that they "liked" me and that it was "so nice" I think I would have laughed in their face and walked away...so let's revisit that Cuba drugging concept again - was I not in my right state of mind? WHAT ARE IN THOSE DRINKS?! He would ask that I stayed back after the show and join him at the disco so we could "talk" (jeez - reminds me of the very first time I ever met him) but "talk" we did. I mean at first it was a lot of the same stuff: I like you, you're very attractive, BLAH BLAH BLAH - this isn't my first rodeo, I've heard all this even from guys back at home - I want substance, I want to actually learn about him and about Cuba. After a while, I finally got him to share bits and pieces of his story which I always took with a pinch of salt...I mean after my first visit, I did my homework. All the sites and forums about Cuban scam artists and horror stories of marriages with Cuban men/women I have read.

SIDE-NOTE
Why anyone would marry a person, much less a Cuban, after only knowing them for a week or even a couple months is beyond me. I have dated the same person for almost a decade and I am in no rush to get married although I am open to the idea if it ever arose - but I've always been anti-marriage because infidelity is a very real experience that I had and continue to have when I observe my parentals. So there, I said it, I don't believe in marriage because more often than not - it ends in heart ache anyways so why bother? It's a piece of paper. I'm over it.

I digress. So no, I don't really take anything he says seriously - he's just feeding me the same crap that all the other Cubans fed my fellow Canadians, but it was nice to hear a little bit about Cuba from an actual Cuban. Like how his mother is a seamstress and makes most of the costumes for his parts in the nightly shows. That it was hard to come by items with "style" and "swag" in Cuba because it's hard due to the U.S Embargo. He'd tell me how he makes deals with other tourists in order to obtain items they liked such as shirts, shoes and other materialistic things. I did try to test him though, by asking him how old he was again. I figured he probably can't keep his story straight if he had to adjust his age every time he talked to a tourist woman of different ages, but he surprisingly said the same answer. I responded with "Still?" and he asked "Why?". I confessed I was trying to figure out how old he really was and he made me feel rather dumb (well I was dumb) by saying that it had only been two months since I last asked his age and that his birthday was in May, therefore he would still be the same age as last time. Duh. Another point for the Cuban. I am not good at this game. Eventually he would go back to the topic of liking me and eventually I told him to stop - finally my straight forwardness was semi-returning. He did stop for a few days which was nice not to have the pressure of thinking that our time spent together was anything more than being new amigos.

Is anyone curious whether I lost my shoe again in the disco? Short answer? No *three cheers for me* But only because I was smart enough to wear sandals that strapped around my feet so I couldn't possibly lose it. I did scrape his face with my hair clip when he tried to twirl me. Seriously I have to reiterate, I am a horrible dancer - think Princess Diaries when her body guard was trying to teach her how to really dance. To be fair to myself, I don't dance salsa or tango or merengue...I am an EDM dancer, which means bopping my head to the beats, shuffling side to side and staying in one spot. I don't do partner dances but to his credit he tried really hard to help me get into it.

Fast forward - Cuba II

Found myself de-boarding (is that even a word?) the plane and back on Cuban soil two months later...

Spent the first two days just taking in the fact that I am on vacation again - mostly also arguing with myself about whether I returned because I was hoping to see Jorge again or because I fell in love with Cuba and associated him - my last memory of Cuba - to the carefree time I had with my friends. I never did see him during the beginning of my week in Cuba, but deliberately sat in the same area I used to sit with my friends at night to have my daily smoke *see - family and hiding the fact that I smoked is no fun for a nicotine addict* I did not make eye contact when I finally saw him that night, choosing instead to keep puffing away, casually glancing at my phone with no internet - totally engrossed in my game of Flappy Bird. That's when a familiar shadow suddenly fell over me. I looked up. He had the same intense stare and furrowed brows and he had another friend with him. I will never forget.

"Excuse me, but have you been to this resort before?"

I was caught between my want to mask my surprise that he remembered and wanting to stay anonymous because I have a boyfriend for goodness sakes, to wanting to act all mysterious and non-creepy as possible that somehow I am back on his resort, alone. I finally managed to say one word "Yes" (wow - such a cool comeback *cue eye roll* so not smooth) I mean who is he to even make me feel this way - I have no qualms about putting anyone in their place when I am back at home. I have a sharp tongue and the use of sarcasm is my best friend.

"I remember you, do you remember me?"

I feigned stupidity and mispronounced his name on purpose so he wouldn't feel so important (weak game - I know) but hey if you're going to be marching around holding a microphone like a social butterfly, he must have an over inflated ego anyways. After some polite back and forth with "how do you dos" and asking about other staff members that I could remember, I pretended that it was time to return to my room as I was done catching up on my daily smoke quota. Again with his intense gaze he stated that he hopes to see me around the resort soon. I said my good night and marched off to my room - and even though I blamed my pounding heart on the fact that I had to run 10 minutes in the dark back to my room *scared myself by imagining all the creepy crawlies that would get me if I didn't run* I had a sneaking suspicion as I tried to fall asleep that night that it was more than that.

Just kidding

Okay. So the story doesn't just end there.

The inevitable depression that follows an amazing vacation results in sitting under the gloomy skies and obsessing over the next time I get to break free from the mundane repertoire of work and other aspects of a "normal" life. The depression was real. I was scouring the sites for cheap deals back to the very resort in Cuba I just returned from - why the same resort - I asked that question a lot but justified it to myself and others that I felt "safe" and "comfortable" in that resort and that I "trusted" the food and people there. Bullshit. I called it and I can feel that you're calling it too. I couldn't comprehend why I felt the need to return but a few days after returning, I had already booked another trip to the resort but this time with a family member.

I get embarrassed just thinking about it. I only met Jorge for a total of maybe two hours of my life, yet I felt the curiosity to go back?! I had no idea who he was, never got his email or phone number nor did he get mine. I only knew his name and that he claimed to be twenty seven. Do they drug us there so that we feel compelled to return?! (I still have internal debates about this - plausible in my mind) So no, it was of my own free will and curiosity that I returned to the same resort two months later - he never asked me to return nor did he know I was going to come back. For all he knew, I was another chica that got away before he could work his Cuban charm on me. In retrospect, maybe he already did.

How all stories start?

Where should I even start? I mean, this story and hence this blog is going to be in real-life time, but I think you deserve to know the small back story of how I even met my Cuban friend - let's call him Jorge for the remainder of this story.

I've travelled extensively for most of my life, visiting major cities around the world but never have I ever travelled to Cuba before this year. Family and friends were worried when my friends and I mentioned that we were going to an all-inclusive resort in Cuba for a week. I laughed it off, thinking how different could it be from Mexico or the Dominican Republic? I can handle it. We arrived and had the time of our lives, I don't think anything crossed my mind for the first five days & nights. I was more concerned about what my friends and I were going to be doing for the day: excursions, when to eat at the buffet/a la carte, should we lounge by the pool or the beach right now, whose going to shower first etc. I was pre-warned that Cubans would be especially interested/curious as I was Chinese *ta-da another fact about me* so thought nothing of the lingering looks, smiles and compliments. My friends were pretty interested in the entertainment staff, particularly the male dancers - jokingly of course cause rumour has it most of them are interested for batting for the other team ;) But we made it a challenge to take pictures with those that we thought were okay look-wise (guilty of objectifying men - I apologize for our behaviour for those who are offended) So one day, strategically sitting in a spot in which we could - for lack of better words - stalk, we were approached by two animation staff (not dancers - but the MCs) We engaged in maybe a two minutes conversation while I got drinks for my friends and I at the bar but I distinctly remembered the way he stared intensely because I do not do well with prolonged eye contact and get extremely uncomfortable when this happens. He asked if we were going to the disco later on in the evening after the show and I responded with a laugh and okay I suppose a flirty response of "maybe" while flashing a smile and made my quick getaway back to poolside. I thought that was it - how wrong I was.

Later on in the evening, after the show, we mustered enough courage to approach a dancer for a picture  after consuming a few glasses of liquid courage. We sat there underneath the Cuban sky drinking, laughing and talking when a familiar figure appears beside us. He made polite conversation with my friends but then turned his intense stare back on me to ask if we were going to the disco as he was going to MC in there. I responded that I do not dance (more like I am incapable of dancing - but he will soon discover this on his own). He shrugged and left to mingle with other guests. He returned soon after and asked again if I would dance if he taught me. Again, I declined and instead lit a cigarette *yes I smoke - sue me* and used it as an excuse to not get off my seat. He changed his stance and again in a more bossy tone "after - you come into disco and I show you how to dance the Cuban way" Maybe his tactic was to annoy or peer pressure me into going because after the fourth inquiry about whether we were going in - my friends finally said "I don't think he's going to leave you alone until you go in there - I think he likes you". BIG HA-HA in my mind but with a little more liquid courage and the insistence of my friends...I entered the disco and while I am not going to give a play-by-play of every interaction I had with Jorge that night (NO there was no sexual things going on - mind outta the gutter, I am after all in a relationship and have some decency - hmmm) but I did in the process lose my shoe while he taught me to dance *I told you I was a bad dancer* and he was forward enough that I was intrigued but not enticed to stay back in the disco without my friends to "talk" as he suggested. We left that night half dragging my light-weight drunk friend back to the room, promptly spent the next morning with a massive hangover and never did see Jorge again before we hopped on that bus to the airport and back to reality.

The end.

A lengthy disclaimer

So here I am.

Sitting in front of the laptop, half wanting to just delete this silliness and keep these thoughts inside my head. But I can't. I've been inspired by a blog I stumbled upon yesterday I Married the Pool Boy. I don't intend for anyone to read this but only to serve as a virtual memory of events long gone and maybe forgotten, even by me, by the time someone accidentally stumbles on this. No doubt, you my friend are probably searching for a story about success or even failure when it comes to a relationship between a Cuban and a tourist.

To be truthful, I don't think there is even a 'relationship' to talk about. I may regret this statement later but I do not intend on marrying this or any other Cubans I may encounter - I will revisit this notion in another post for another day. But at the back of my mind is a nagging feeling that there is something here. Something I don't understand and desperately want to express into the ever growing void of abandoned and reader-less blogs.

So let's get this over with potential Anonymous readers/commenters/haters/negative Nancies:

• No. I am not a middle aged lonely woman of a larger size.
• No. I am not searching for love in a foreign country because I can't find love in my own.
• No. I do not believe he or I for that matter are in love with one another.
• Yes. I am aware of the ever changing groups of tourist that visit the resort on a weekly basis and no doubt the different "girlfriends" he may have every time a new load of tourist arrives.
• Yes. I know that majority of Cuban men/women are looking for a way out and see tourists as their golden ticket to Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory. 
• Yes. It is a rather stupid notion to get hung up on someone who cannot leave their country and cannot be otherwise trusted not to have other girlfriends, wives, and children.
• Yes. I know that even if he doesn't want to leave the country, he may see this as a way of getting gifts or money out of the whole experience. 

Plenty of other things I will eventually have to add to this list. But here's a little information about what I will share about myself (names will be changed in order to keep my own pride intact - silly - but who knows when this will come and bite me in the behind...a prelude to something you can rightfully assume)

• I am currently in my early-mid twenties
• I am involved in a long term relationship (let's say he's my high school sweetheart - I will refer to him as Sam and I was sweet sixteen) *and there it is ladies and gents*
• I am employed
• A hopeless daydreamer and romantic...the root of all my problems

Here we go, a journey I never thought I'd get involved in. Time to share my stories with complete strangers.