Everybody's Dancing in a Ring Around the Sun; or, Butterflies, Kayaks, Caves, and More

Spring Break was a blast. We didn't deal with the nightmare that is GTMO holiday travel. No hastily packed bags, no regrets for the overindulging in too much rich food, no early morning wake up calls to make the airport. We didn't do much of anything. And it was glorious. 

Ab-so-lute-ly glorious.

There were trips to the beach which included snorkeling and sea glass gathering. I have decided that the hundreds of pounds of household goods I am throwing out and giving away will be replaced with sea glass---five or six thousands pounds of sea glass. 

Okay, just kidding. I dream of leaving much lighter, but who knows---I have a sort of OCD/hoarder sickness. I cannot walk by a piece of sea glass and not pick it up. Woe is me.

I went kayaking near the hospital with friends and to Ferry Landing for a kid's birthday party and I'm happy to see so many large, brilliant orange star fish. Those who haven't been here 5 years can't appreciate what disappeared and is finally coming back after Hurricane Sandy hit the month we got here (Oct. 2012). My husband spotted a pod of dolphins frolicking (do they frolick? dance? play?) in the Bay, too. 

I caught up on literary pursuits. Okay, I'm lying. I watched a lot of television, mostly Netflix. At least it wasn't all junk; I did see a great documentary: Searching for Sugarman (2012). It's a story of missed opportunities and the realization that you haven't fulfilled your potential---and dealing with it with grace. It was a nice counterpoint to the seven part podcast that I listened to almost non-stop from beginning to end, "S-Town" (as in "Shit Town). It's is a true Southern Gothic cut from the cloth of Flannery O'Connor, with a little Faulkner, Welty, and Tennessee Williams thrown in. And it's totally addictive and will have you calling your friends (especially if you, too, are from a little southern town) and talking all the finer points of what makes it so disturbing and intriguing at the same time. 

I also finished the HBO mini series, "Big Little Lies," based on one of my 40 book challenge books. I couldn't manage to keep up with it pre-break (and it's less than 10 episodes). Read the book first, then watch the show. It will bring more depth to what you're watching, and the director/producers made some interesting changes in the storyline which also brought some depth. That being said, it's guilty viewing and not that much depth there. But that's okay, because I'm on break and I'm a little weary of my last 6 weeks of so with the Bard (Hamlet with seniors, Romeo and Juliet with freshman). 

I didn't read much. Okay, I read very little. I am damned and determined to read that "great Spanish novel" Don Quixote, but god gawd, y'all, it's slow. Sorry, I'm just not digging it thus far---but I AM going to finish it. 

I enjoyed the great outdoors (thanks to some DEET to make it more bearable). In addition to swimming and kayaking in the Bay, I went on some hikes with my husband. I had a few very close encounters with iguanas---we all know I'm blind as a bat, but even for those who can really see---because they blend in so well sometimes, you don't see them until you almost step on them. Or sit on them. Thankfully I didn't do either, but I did get thaaaaat close.

Best wildlife experience: the feral cat who, upon my opening of the closed garbage bin, let out a howl from hell, and shot out, claws first, narrowly missing my head. My life flashed before my eyes. Okay, I'm being hyperbolic. It did make me almost pee my pants (sorry, TMI). 

In an unrelated trip to the garbage bin, I stopped by a neighbor's house and ended up staying and talking until well past midnight. I love that sometimes you just find the right person for the right evening of good conversation (and good wine) if you look hard enough. Or if you are just taking out the garbage. (My husband to another neighbor: "She takes out the garbage at 8 pm. She comes home at 1 am. I'm not sure how she does it." )

Also I am amazed that in 4 Years, 5 Months, 2 Weeks, 5 Days of living here (heck yeah I count; sometimes it feels like a prison sentence), I still find firsts. 

There was the first time to the top of the lighthouse. The restored lighthouse is open and we can go to the top for the first time in the five years we've been here. 

The stairs are steep, and the windows offer little in ventilation. It's not too unbearable now, but come summer, it will be hellish at the top, since it's all enclosed in glass. I felt like I was in a huge gazing ball, and I'm glad I chose the hot spring instead of the hotter than hot summer to see it. 

There was my first time to go to a party for someone who gained their U.S. citizenship. During break, a colleague's spouse was sworn in as an American in Florida and some of the staff threw him a surprise party when he returned. Call it a "we're glad you are now officially an American" party. There's a party for everything---and there are thoughtful people who put them together, too.  

There's magic here, too. 

All during the break, the base was covered with butterflies. 

I was reminded of my favorite novel: “It was then that she realized that the yellow butterflies preceded the appearances of Mauricio Babilonia" (One Hundred Years of Solitude, Gabriel Garcia Marquez).

Nope, they aren't yellow, they don't announce the arrival of a guest, but they are everywhere.  And there is something magical about the glistening of white wings in the hot sun, and having them tangle in your hair in the breeze. I tried to capture them on film, but I'm afraid I didn't do a great job. 

You know what I didn't do? I didn't go in to work. I didn't grade papers. I didn't work on the yearbook. I didn't think about lesson plans. And with very, very few exceptions, I didn't wear shoes. 

I chased butterflies on trails. I dodged iguanas on the beach, and spotted several species of fish in two beautiful afternoons of snorkeling. I managed to climb rocks and a narrow trail and found a cave I've been wanting to visit before leaving (another GTMO first). 

And while driving Sunday night with the windows down in my car, pondering the end of break and listening to one of the few CDs I managed to salvage (because you never, ever get rid of the Dead), I heard these lyrics and thought how it could be my eternal-summer, beach-life, trail-hiking, Bay-kayaking, GTMO-living theme song, if I had chosen to stay here indefinitely: 

"See that girl, barefootin' along,

Whistlin' and singin', she's a carryin' on.

There's laughing in her eyes, dancing in her feet,

She's a neon-light diamond and she can live on the street. . . 

Well everybody's dancin' in a ring around the sun

Nobody's finished, we ain't even begun.

So take off your shoes, child, and take off your hat.

Try on your wings and find out where it's at"---

"The Golden Road (to Unlimited Devotion)Find" 

the Grateful Dead

Instead, I'll be dancing a jig barefooted on another beach, but undoubtedly missing the iguanas, the plumerias, the neighbors (but most likely not the feral cats or the hutias). I loved spring break and now I'm nervous but ready to move onward towards closing out the year---and this chapter----in Cuba. 

Blame it on Liberace; or, The bird, the bees, and some fireworks

Well, now. My magazine from May 20 is much better traveled than I am.

It's a New York magazine (never mind I'm not from New York; I still like it) and was supposed to come to Cuba.

Somehow it ended up at two places first. It was covered with the red tell-tale stamps that map out my mail's detour before it hit Gitmo.

"Missent to DPO 09642" means it was sent to Madrid, Spain.

Then "Missent to 09613" means it then went to Livorno, Italy.  (At least it wasn't Oman this time).

I understand that the photograph of Michael Douglas (as Liberace) is quite disconcerting at first glance. I'm going to assume it was so distracting that a few postal workers along the way put it in the wrong pile. I'm okay that it's well traveled (at least it wasn't a bill). I just wish they would have thrown in a postcard or two.

And I STILL got it earlier than the magazines that are on the racks at the NEX.

Our baby bird has flown the coop. I was going out to my car a few days ago, and something in the bushes caught my eye. It was baby bird!  The little dove was flitting and flying, not too coordinated-like, right onto the top of the fence, and then into the neighbor's back yard. Saw him later on the neighbor's car and roof. I hope he hangs in this area a little longer, and I'm glad he at least made it to flying. It did my heart good to see our little bird was out on his own.


I FINALLY got out and hiked the ridgeline this past week. The dirt and rock trail follows the crest of some large hills surrounding the base, and it has the most beautiful views for miles (of not only US-Cuba, but Cuba-Cuba). I went with a friend and our three kids, who will be in 1st, 2nd, and 4th grade next year. In places, it's quite the hike---steep inclines and washed out trails make it challenging. The kids were awesome---two took tumbles and got a little scraped up, and another was attacked by a swarm of bees, AND they still lasted for a little over five miles. Not bad at all!

Because there was a trail run on the next day (July 4), the trail had flags every few yards with names of servicemen and women killed in war. It's quite sobering hiking by dozens of these names. I don't know what's worse---the majority of  PFCs, probably kids who are 18 or 19, or the higher ranking folks who were probably quite a bit older and maybe had their own wife/husband and kids at home. It's tragic any way you look at it. Probably 2/3 of the flags had blown over, so the kids helped put them upright, which is no easy task since the soil here is like concrete.




And the pot at the end of the rainbow was a trip to McDonald's, of course.  Don't judge; try cheering three tired, sore kids through trails and then YOU tell them "no."


We celebrated the Fourth by going to an outdoor festival for the kids (bouncy houses, face painting, games), then the oldest and I went to watch an all-girl (or mostly all-girl) AC/DC cover band.  Just seeing a group of women thrashing guitars and watching men scream like a bunch of teenage girls made the concert worth it. That, and I never thought I'd hear men scream/sing along as women belt out,"We've got the biggest balls of them all!" It's my all-time favorite double entendre song ever. It never gets old, even if I'm not a teenager anymore.

We also had a great feast with friends, and as with all things here, it was a mish mash of just about everything and most excellent: sushi, apple pie, and ribs. Doesn't get any better than that.

And of course, there were fireworks---amazing fireworks. There were fireworks that made shapes of stars, hearts, and happy faces. I've never seen that before. It was one of the best displays I've seen. I imagine the Cubans also watched in amazement. I wonder what the Cuban guards think as they are watching the fireworks from their perches in the towers, looking down at the bay.

I also thought of my grandfather Dudley and how he would have loved the wonderment of it all. You know, celebrating the birth of our country while living in a communist country; celebrating everything patriotic with friends, including some first and second generation Americans; and being thankful for the Chinese for inventing fireworks to celebrate the most American of holidays. My grandfather was a lifetime firework aficionado. He never got too old to get excited about a firework show. One of the last times we saw him, he pulled a lawnchair into the driveway as we shot some off in the street in front of his house for New Year's.

As I was oohing and aahing and saying "wow" over and over again, I thought how much I hope that in my 90s, I will still be able to find the little things in life exciting and fun. That's how my grandfather lived his life: he still found joy in everyday things, and he freely shared his joy with all those around him. Whether it's a bird that's flown the coop, or the silly looking iguana running across the road, or a huge Owl Moth in the back porch---I try to slow down and remember it's the little things that make life big.

And yes, that even includes getting my magazine with a somewhat bewildering cover over a month late. It's still all good.