The plane arrived just in
time for cocktail hour and right at the terminal they had set up a hospitality
bar where I had the best mojito I’ve ever had. On my way into Havana I looked
and realized that nothing had changed, it was a time capsule and I had the need
to close that chapter of my life…catharsis of a sort.
WARNING
This blog does contain adult and gay material. If you are
under your country's legal age (18 or 21), do not scroll down and leave this
page now.
Thanks
By Richard de Orizaba
Why in the world would
any one desire to go to a third world country that has a very repressive regime
and lacks all the freedoms we are used to have in the west. Why even bother to
visit a country where time has stood still, the place is as it was in 1958,
nothing has been built, nothing is new. It is a time capsule. All the buildings
need paint and are in a dismal state of disrepair.
Why indeed? I tell you,
because of the Cubans. These are some of the most hospitable and warm people on
the face of the planet. These are also the most beautiful people in the world.
The women are voluptuous and sultry; the men are drop dead gorgeous. Just like
in Brazil where the mixture of the races has produced a superior human, the
people of Cuba are by far one of the most attractive in the entire world.
There is also another
aspect. Because these people are very poor, and at the same time very educated,
anyone can befriend them and actually talk them into going to bed for a few
pesos or dollars. It is said that the Cuban prostitutes are the most educated
in the world. Rightfully so, be it the women hookers or the men hustlers,
(jineteras/jineteros) when you get to speak to them, culture spills out, they
are well mannered, eloquent and articulate. Do not be surprised if your Cuban
host has a law or accounting degree. Whether he or she is a chemical engineer
or a doctor in psychology, they actually have no jobs for them and eventually
they will be forced to drift into the prostitution business.
As a journalist, I had a
very compelling reason to visit Cuba. The travel restrictions placed by our own
U.S. government and the Bush administration are bordering on madness and
stupidity. It does no one any good to isolate the two countries in this
fashion. So I had a concrete purpose for visiting the island and I got around
the restrictions because I hooked up with a religious organization and I was
able to get dispensation traveling to Cuba as a member of a religious
philanthropic organization. Yet, normal Americans could not do what I had done.
I had a whole week
before the conference I was to attend started. So one week is not enough to see
all of Cuba but I did try to cram as much as possible. For this purpose, I
hired a car and a driver. It was an old 1957 Cadillac that was in such good
shape it would have made an American car restorer weep with envy. Now, the
driver that came with it was something else. He was the best Cuba has to offer
in terms of education, looks and he spoke fluent Russian, French and even a
little bit of English. That is the reason they had him working in this
capacity.
Lázaro started to take
me to all the usual places tourists see and then I told him that I wanted to
get away from that, I wanted to see the real Cuba, the ordinary people and in
particular the people of the interior, not just Havana. So on the next outing,
he was able
to get a full tank and I
reimbursed him of course and off to the interior we went.
 |
| Parroquia de San Felipe y Santiago de Bejucal |
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| The beach in Batabanó is not pretty |
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| The town square in Batabanó |
We traveled south
towards the airport, past the town of Santiago de Las Vegas, Bejucal, Guira de
Melena and finally ended up in the southern coastal city of Batabanó. There we
were to have dinner and return to my hotel in Havana but it started to rain and
the roads were flooded so we were forced to stay the night. The reason I wanted
to visit Batabanó was because this was one of the worst impacted cities by
hurricanes Katrina, Gustav, Charlie, Ike and others. One of my assignments was
to write an article about the reconstruction of Batabanó by the Cuban
Government compared to the reconstruction of storm devastated areas and the
role of FEMA by ours. We were able to get a room at an old sumptuous mansion
that must have been something in its day. It is now a “paladar” and hostel,
situated across the Hotel Dos Hermanos, which is very dilapidated. The room was
clean and very large, with a balcony that ran almost the whole length of the
two rooms and faced a very charming square where there were all kinds of
activity but none tonight because of the rain.
The night was no doubt a
wash out, humidity must have been over 100% and the lights kept going out.
There is no television and nothing to do in that hot and humid hotel room. The
overhead fans did not help much. So Lázaro did the only thing that he thought
would be sensible. He went to the corner and purchased a bottle of rum and a
large bottle of vile tasting cola. The hostel gave us the ice and the glasses
and he brought it upstairs. I guess that is the solution to boredom in Cuba and
why there are so many alcoholics in the island nation.
The coastal town of
Batabanó is basically a fishing village and a port from where various water
taxis and water carriers leave for the Island of Youth, formerly Isla de Pinos.
But Batabanó retains the quaintness of a remote fishing village. The food is
excellent since the freshest of all the products from the sea come there first
and it is grabbed by the locals as it comes in. The dinner we had was
excellent. It was lobster “enchilada”, or with a Creole sauce and the
accompanying dishes were fried yucca and plantains. The town nevertheless sits
in the coast of a very swampy low area and the rains make the crossing to the
north impassable. You also have the pesky mosquitoes and the night is filled
with the sounds of crickets and frogs, almost at a deafening level.
We got shit faced as
there was nothing better to do. The square in front of the hotel was deserted
and the rain kept falling. Laz announced he was going to bed and much to my
surprise he first took off his shirt, smiled at me and then shed his pants. He
was on the thin side and looked much younger than he actually was.
Since there was only one
bed and the air was stale and humid we were both glistening with perspiration
and boy…I have to admit that even though I like a macho smell he was a bit over
the top. I soon began to appreciate that smell since the guy was just
oversupplied with testosterone and when he turned in the bed he was sporting a
very respectable erection.
I sobered up real fast
with the prospect of a hot naked Cuban next to me in the bed with a hard on.
But the next thing that happened was that he reached for my dick and held it
for a minute and commented on the size and how he would like to have it rammed
up his ass.
Laz backed up to my cock
and I suppose the penetration had to be painful although he never showed even
the slightest sign of distress. Mind you, there was no lube and certainly no
condoms. Laz was soon rocking back and forth while he was assuming a doggie
style position and I wasn’t moving at all, he was doing all the work and it
became evident that he was enjoying the hell out of the ride.
He turned around and now
lay on the bed and his legs went up in the air as he held his ankles with
incredible flexibility. He begged me to put it back in and it was then that I
began to have my pleasure. Laz had a very tight ass which he contracted and
relaxed to meet my thrusts. I
was increasing the speed
and he was begging for more…”métemela toda, sí, singame duro, así, ay, ay, que
rico, que pinga tan grande, ay, ay, más rápido papi, más, si, ay, ay, me voy a
venir…ay, aaaayyy, aaaaaaay” (shove it all in, yes, fuck me hard, yeah, like
that, ah, ah, feels so good, such a big cock, ah, ah, faster daddy, more, yeah,
ah, ah, I’m cumming…ah, aaaaah, aaaaaah). And as he was about to shoot his load
I bent down enough to be able to wrap my mouth around his pretty uncut cock and
caught all of his load in my mouth. That sent me into a spin that I was not
able to control and I too shot my wad into his hungry ass.
The next day, with a
hangover of major proportions and the weather having cleared, we drove back to
Havana. Laz stopped by his house to let his wife know he was ok and to bring
some milk for the baby. You cannot believe where this guy lived. It looked like
a war zone, buildings that had deteriorated to the point where some had
collapsed. He parked the car on the street next to this heap of rubble covered
already with vegetation and went across to his living quarters. He told me that
multiple families lived there now and they had only one bathroom and one water
facility with toilet and shower, which made it very awkward to cook and shower.
He said that there were three working toilets however, and that was a luxury. I
almost felt sorry for Lázaro. Here was a college graduate, with a degree in
agronomy who was basically driving a cab for a living, and not really on his
own, the car was government owned. He worked for a salary, a ridiculous salary
of about the equivalent of $32 US dollars per month. Where he was able to make
extra money was from the tips and meals the tourists he drove around gave him.
I thought of how fortunate I was compared to him and most people on the island.
So I gave him $200.00 US  |
| The waterfront drive called the Malecón where you can pick up a prostitute who has a college degree |
My stay in Havana was going to be
brief and that next day after my arrival from Batabanó I slept late and didn’t
go out until about four that afternoon. I must admit that the view from my room
was spectacular with the Morro Castle in the distance and the Malecón right in
the front of the hotel. I took to walking along the waterfront drive and
reached the area close to the entrance of the bay. There were hundreds of
people, some hetero couples making out but a lot of prostitutes of both sexes.
I must have had at least two dozen
of them approach me. When one real cute one noticed that I wasn’t going for the
women he walked towards me and began to talk to me. This cat had everything I
like in a man and I knew immediately that I was going to have him…no matter
what the cost. He didn’t ask for money right up front but suggested we could
walk to the front of the capitol and hire a taxi to go to the other side of the
tunnel where there are a number of motels that specialize in renting by the
hour. We found one and he took us there. He recommended it because it was clean
and reasonable. Sure enough, I thought it was the Holiday Inn. This cat (I
forgot his name…it was Jesús or something religious) and he got right to
business by shedding his clothes and asking me if I wanted to suck his cock.
The sex was terrific and he didn’t
ask for money, only took a liking to my shirt and hinted that he would want it.
Go figure, the guy had sex with me for a shirt I bought at Penny’s on special
for $19.95. The only problem was getting back. As is to be expected, taxis in
Cuba are rare. We had to wait for the Camello which took a good hour and a half
to get there and it was totally packed with people to the point that they were
even hanging out from the back door.
From the very beginning of the
Revolution, in those bloody days, hundreds of former Batista government people
were taken to the firing squads. Then followed a period of arrests and phony
trials and a lot of people were incarcerated and even condemned to death.
The repressive years that followed were punctuated by a very strict immigration similar to what the old Iron Curtain countries had. Cuba did not allow its citizens to leave the island and many did under precarious circumstances on make-shift rafts and anything that would float. One would question the wisdom of such actions but it is simply this: for some of these people it was far more desirable to risk death on the high seas than continue to live in such a hopeless society. If they were caught, they would be thrown in jail. My own uncle (actually he was my mom’s uncle although he was 7 years younger than her) served 8 years in Boniato Prison and the only crime he committed was building a raft on the north coast (he used the Kon-Tiki as a model) and was caught the minute he put the raft in the beach and it came in contact with salt water. The consequences for him were Draconian; he was denied a rationing card and would not be allowed to ever hold a job. With these prospects it was even harder to live under such a regime than before he was caught. Fortunately for him he was a mason and a handy man and he has survived all these years by working outside of the law doing odd jobs of construction and repairs.
The repressive years that followed were punctuated by a very strict immigration similar to what the old Iron Curtain countries had. Cuba did not allow its citizens to leave the island and many did under precarious circumstances on make-shift rafts and anything that would float. One would question the wisdom of such actions but it is simply this: for some of these people it was far more desirable to risk death on the high seas than continue to live in such a hopeless society. If they were caught, they would be thrown in jail. My own uncle (actually he was my mom’s uncle although he was 7 years younger than her) served 8 years in Boniato Prison and the only crime he committed was building a raft on the north coast (he used the Kon-Tiki as a model) and was caught the minute he put the raft in the beach and it came in contact with salt water. The consequences for him were Draconian; he was denied a rationing card and would not be allowed to ever hold a job. With these prospects it was even harder to live under such a regime than before he was caught. Fortunately for him he was a mason and a handy man and he has survived all these years by working outside of the law doing odd jobs of construction and repairs.
I left Havana after visiting him and
spent three days in Varadero Beach which was great because it was all
relaxation and no sex.
SOURCES: http://www.bigtravelweb.com/cuba.htm
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