Baby Turtles and Guantanamo Phil, Oh My!, or, Hottest Spot North of Havana

After living here 3 years, 3 months, and 12 days (yes, I am counting), you would think there isn't much new to do (especially considering that this is a small, isolated base with most of it off limits).

However, I recently had one of the very best experiences of my life right here in little GTMO.

Last weekend, I spent Saturday night enjoying a bonfire with friends and colleagues at Windmill Beach. It was an overcast night, with no moon in sight. The usually brilliant display of stars was non- existent, and the only light came from a few of the pavilions on the beach.

This is also sea turtle hatching season. Female turtles come back to their birthplace every year to lay eggs at Windmill Beach, and there are usually cones set up in the most popular areas to prevent unsuspecting beachgoers from stepping on nests and damaging the hidden eggs.

Friday night was hatching night. Hundreds of tiny turtle hatched from their shells, pushed up out of the sand, and made their way to. . . the pavilion lights.

Without the moon, the baby turtles all went in the wrong direction.

Several of us took buckets and collected the tiny turtles. We set them out to sea and let nature take its course. I was amazed at how small and fragile they seemed. I'm used to the sturdy, magnificent turtles we encounter while diving or snorkeling. I have never seen a newborn turtle.

We gingerly placed them towards the tide and wished them well. Later that night when I got home, I read that only 1 in 1000 survives to adulthood. I'd like to think that one of our turtles will beat the odds. I can't even begin to tell you how exciting it was to hold a newborn turtle and set it on its voyage. I am still smiling thinking about it.

Another first this past weekend: H and I went to Glass Beach with friends, and we watched the sun set from the beach. I've watched more gorgeous, colorful sunsets here than anywhere else in the world, but never from that location. Every beach's sunsets are just a little different than the others. It was a sight to behold.

Of course, I didn't have my camera for baby turtles or sunsets, and frankly, I'm happy to live somewhere that we don't have cell phones recording every single one of life's moments. Please use your imagination and trust me that both were amazing.

What we lack in amenities, I guess we make up for in imagination here.

Someone posted on one of our GTMO facebook pages that Guantánamo Phil, an iguana, didn't see its shadow so summer is coming. While the post and picture were really cute, I like to think that Guantánamo Phil is not an iguana but a hutia. They are a little ground-hoggish if you look carefully.

In my version, Guantánamo Phil is too busy doing things like eating fuel lines and destroying vegetation to care about seasons. This is a good thing since we don't have seasons here. The two days of 70s-80s are over, so unless Guantánamo Phil is a complete moron (or a little high from gas fumes), he knows that we only have summer here. 

One last bit of happiness here---I was driving down Sherman Avenue tonight, tuned in to my favorite Santiago de Cuba radio station, and heard these words: "Her name was Lola/She was a showgirl." Before Barry Manilow got to the part about the feathers in the hair and the dress cut way down to there, I was squealing with delight. You better believe that I got my groove on while jamming down the street. We're not in the hottest spot north of Havana, but some days I do think we are in the hottest spot east of there (did I mention that it's HOT here?). Who would have believed that one of my favorite songs as a Mississippi girl of 8 years old would be playing many years later while I'm living not quite north of Havana, but on the same rock and 600 miles east of it? 

I love the surprises I find on Cuban radio as much as I love the surprises I find on the Cuban beaches. 

Hidden in Plain Sight; or More White Walls

Sometimes when you are unsure about life, just ask yourself, What Would Henry David Thoreau Do?

Heaven is beneath our feet, as well as over our heads.---Thoreau

If you aren't sure, the answer is he would say go enjoy nature.

(of course, if you aren't into nature, you can just go enjoy beer and make Ben Franklin happy)

Brussels=BEER

That's just what I did last weekend. Instead of school work (boo!!!), I worked on the yard. 

I finally ventured behind the fence. We live on the edge of a bluff over the Bay. I haven't bothered to see what's behind the fence until my mini adventure, when I found this: 

Those are coconut trees. How did I miss that there are coconut trees right by my house? They are hidden in plain sight. Maybe, one day, we'll have our own coconuts.

You really have to look down sometimes to see what's around you. Last weekend, I had a 2 ft Cuban racer snake slithering down the walkway towards my front door. It was my second encounter in a week with a Cuban racer at the new house. While walking on the beach, I have found so many strange and wonderful things---pieces of old pottery and sea glass (some with "Cuba" written on it), dozens of types of shells, old buttons and silverware and other strange things that are somehow connected to the US Navy or to Cuba. 

You also have to look up so you won't miss bats and birds, huge moths and even bigger tarantulas. Ever present turkey vultures. There is a pair of kestrels that have built a nest in a tree right outside my class door. I love to watch them bring back the bounty of their hunts (usually lizards). If you know where to look, you can find the nocturnal banana rats sleeping high in trees during the day. 

Much more obvious than the coconuts are the banyans. Oh, how I love them---even if they house nasty banana rats (one plowed through my potted plants---so they are most definitely on my hit-list). 

While I am working in the yard, I am tempted to dig holes and move plants around. I am also tempted to hang up some of the dozens and dozens of pictures we have framed, many of which we never put up in the limited wall space of our last house. 

I have a nice entranceway begging for pictures. It's so tempting, but. . . I am back to white wall mentality. 

We are waiting for the 2 weeks (or longer) for transfer announcements. If a move is not in the cards, pictures will go up, plants will be moved, and I will feel more at home. 

More waiting and waiting, trying not to obsess on the future and live in the present. If I haven't learned anything else here, it's to try to live more in the present and not listen to conjectures, rumors, and "what-ifs."  I've also learned to enjoy the simple hidden treasures of GTMO---coconuts and tarantulas, snakes and sea glass, banana rats and mangos. And the list goes on. . . 

That Time the Banana Rat Caused an Evacuation; or, I Always Miss the Fun

Sometimes I like to look to see who is actually reading my crazy, random observations and stories and I can see some interesting statistics, like how many people have accessed the blog (almost 13K---wow), the countries that access it most often (U.S., Germany, France, Russia), and---most curiously----the number of people who find it through search terms.

Who would have thought that the phrases "banana rats," "GTMO banana rat," or "hutia" would bring so many people here?

So with that, I have a recent story about a little drama caused by one of the cute, albeit destructive, little rodents.

Traveling between 2 campuses every other day means that I get to see and do a lot of fun things on each campus.

If I'm lucky, I'm at the elementary campus for field day. I'm at the secondary campus for fun events, like The Amazing Base.

Here's a depressing secret to you secondary folks: the elementary campus gets snacks and baked goods all the time from parents. I guess parents of teens are just too worn out to bake.

And to you elementary folks: the beauty of the secondary campus is you will DEFINITELY get a 40 minute lunch every single day. After 20 years of mostly eating lunch in 10-15 minutes while standing, I do enjoy a dedicated, campus-wide lunch period with no students on campus. (We have no secondary cafeteria, so they are bused to restaurants on base or can take their cars off campus).

Sometimes I'm lucky and get to experience and see the fun parts of each campus' week.

And then there are days that, well, I miss out on all the excitement.

Last Friday was VERY eventful at the elementary---or so I hear---as usual, I missed out on the fun. And who was responsible for the action-packed madness? It was one of these guys:

The Hutia

Yes, it's the hutia, also known as the banana rat.

They are nocturnal and vegetarian. They are mostly vegetarian. I say "mostly" because they have the amazing ability to eat everything under your car's hood in just one night.

My neighbors found hutias in their engine block. They had done the chicken wire treatment you are always warned to do when you move here, and yet, the little guys had eaten through the wire and were working on the engine.

At some point on Friday, a truck owned by the school went from one campus to the other. I'm not sure on the timeline of the actual events, but I know that at some point. hutias ate the fuel line of the truck. And shortly after school started on the elementary campus, staff starting smelling the unmistakable stench of gas. And it was strong.

So an evacuation and clean up and hour or so later, all was well with the world. I'm not sure if the hutia made it or not---maybe it looked down from the top of a tree close by, laughing at the debacle it caused. Maybe it was asleep, drunk on gas fumes. Or maybe it just lumbered away, being the big, dumb, and slow rodent that it is, and knew that its days were numbered anyway, so why not live a little and enjoy a tasty snack?

Either way, hutias make us realize who is REALLY in charge of this island.

More about the crazy wildlife that populates our base, which also acts as a nature preserve, from National Geographic:  National Geographic: Guantanamo's Wild Side: Huge Boas, "Banana Rats," More

Wild Animals; or, Nature Calls

I never seem to have my camera when I need it. That is, when I'm trying to catch pictures of wild animals.

No, I'm not talking about my children.

There have been a few Cuban racer snakes I've missed photographing. Both kids have had encounters with boas in the wild, but I'm yet to see one. I have seen Key deer twice, but I didn't have the camera. I didn't have it yesterday when a large, fuzzy tarantula was walking around on an eave above my head, or when a baby hummingbird finally decided to leave the tiny nest its mom built right in front of the entrance to the main office, or the day after the hurricane, when dozens of orange crabs crowded the door trying to get into the library.

But I imagine in our time here, there will be plenty of other photo ops with the wild things of Gitmo.

(Again, I don't just mean my kids).

Across from my house, we have a large field with trees, and in near distance, guard towers. In the far distance are the large hills of Cuba.

Sometimes at dusk, we see the hutias climbing down from the trees, where they rest during the day.

Here's another one at night: 

One day I'll get a decent shot. They are primarily nocturnal, and somewhat skittish of humans, but I have gotten up very close before and wished I had a camera at that moment. Maybe one day opportunity (or luck) will come my way. . . 

We have lots of birds all around. Some I know, some I'm not sure what they are. 

Hummingbirds everywhere! At the elementary school, there is another nest. 

There is the day I was on my lunch break and driving from the NEX to my work, when out of nowhere, THIS guy jumps on my windshield. I almost wrecked the car. 

And then there are the iguanas.  Dear Lord, the iguanas. 

This guy is camped out at the elementary campus and I almost stepped on him last week. Seriously. He just blends in with the landscape and was way too quiet for his own good. 

Then there is this guy I have to stop for almost every day now. I was at a birthday party at the park under the large blue canopy, and in a span of 10 short minutes who should cross the street not once, not twice, but FOUR times in a row, causing a small traffic jam? 

This guy: 

He would go from side to side, stopping in the middle and tossing his head up and down in a threatening posture. This is what they do.

It's like they know they are protected species here, so they feel the need to let you know it. I've read that the Cuban Rock Iguana is an endangered species every where in Cuba but Guantánamo Bay, where they are protected and revered and so plentiful, they sometimes are a nuisance. More than once, I've had to shoo them from under my car, stop for them at the one and only drive-thru (McDonald's) or on the road, or chase them off from my table at the Jamaican Jerk House, where they beg for food.

If you had told me a year ago that I would have to tell people,  "I'm sorry I'm running late---I had to stop for a stubborn iguana?"---and that people would nod their heads and completely understand the situation, because they had been there, too---I would have thought you were crazy. Instead, it's just become so routine, I don't even think it's weird anymore.

Like the erratic mail, the occasional ordnance explosions, the base freezing in place at the national anthem every morning, the shortage of food staples, and guard towers around every corner, iguanas (and other wild critters) are so commonplace, we don't even blink an eye when we encounter them anymore.

Of Banana Rats and Men; or, Big, Dumb, and Slow

I, of the wonky eye (okay, strabismus), acute myopia, and severe astigmatism, have had a lifetime of eye issues (lots of physical therapy for the wonky eye, coke-bottom glasses since I was six, contact lens since I was eleven, a new and stronger prescription every single year, and the ability to only see 20/40 with corrective lens).

I'm telling you this so you won't think that unlike that one time in Mexico, I was not drinking when I almost petted a rodent this week.

I was running--- I still hate it, by the way---and saw a chunky, grey cat I had never seen moving  near my neighbor's car. The cat, of course, was not a cat---it was a big, dumb, and slow hutia---what we here call a banana rat.

They are not disgusting, beady-eyed little creatures like your typical roof rat or sewer rat. They are actually more like a nutria, and are about the size of large possum, with, well, what I would only describe as sweet eyes. The combo of  big brown eyes, whiskers, funky little toes, and weird tail works---they are really cute. And I have never been around a wild animal that is so freakishly calm around humans as the hutia---people here hand feed them fries and other unhealthy things.

Dear god, I think I have fallen in love with a banana rat. Make that the entire species of them.

I try to do good Samaritan deeds when I can, but this was a first: calling my neighbor and saying, "Um, yeah, you have a banana rat under your car." Part of being a big, dumb, and slow animal apparently means you just sort of mosey along when a hysterical and sweaty woman waves her arms as you and hisses "Shooooo!" The poor thing moved like pond water. This is probably why I see them as vulture buffet on the side of the road almost every morning.

We are going to have to get chicken wire for under our car, because they eat wiring and insulation and hoses. I wish the big, dumb, slow animals would not get so close to the neighborhood cars, because eventually, someone will call in the exterminator. Nobody is allowed to own a gun at Gitmo---nobody, that is, except the guy whose job is the kill the banana rats. They destroy cars. They destroy trees and landscaping. They leave huge, banana shaped poo everywhere. And since we have an abundance of them here, the exterminator keeps busy. I'm hoping one day I don't see them in the neighborhood anymore because they have decided to mosey on towards Cuba-Cuba (not to be confused with America-Cuba) and not because they have, indeed, been exterminated.

The youngest has wanted for weeks to see one up close and personal, so several nights in a row, we tiptoed across the street, where there are no houses but wilderness (and occasionally, wild animals) but no such luck. One night, he got very animated and said, "Look mama, that's the most incredible thing ever!"

No banana rat---it was the stars. The stars at night are big and bright---very little light pollution means the night sky is a wondrous sight every single night.

Beauty is everywhere here in Cuba. It's that swarm of butterflies surrounding your moving car, the bright red hibiscus attracting hummingbirds, the juvenile spotted drum (a big deal!) we saw while diving last weekend.

It's the salt flats and beyond those, the mountains of Cuba that I see out my front door every morning.

I always did try to find beauty in nature back in Texas---I stumbled upon a blooming gardenia  when we first moved into our house, and I burst into tears---they remind me so much of my Granny and I hadn't smelled one in decades until then. There are irises and heirloom oxblood lilies that popped up every fall and spring---I got great joy out of something as simple as a bulb or tuber I knew would come back and multiply, year after year.

But there, I was too busy to really notice the less-than obvious.

Like the stars---it sounds silly, but I can't remember the night sky in Texas. When you leave your house at 7 am and get home at 6 pm, well, there really isn't time to do much but start cooking before you completely collapse.

And since my work hours are much more reasonable and unlike Texas, jive more with the rest of the educational world---that is, school districts don't set school hours according to football practice---I actually get home during daylight and can play soccer (that would be REAL football) or hang out at the park with the kids.

Fewer tv stations, internet speed that rivals the days of dial-up and no cell phone means I have read more books since mid-October than in a typical year. And I have always read at least one book a month.

Having to buy every thing, from underwear to frozen chicken to batteries to cookies to picture hangers to soap in the one and ONLY store, which is only five miles or so from the house, means shopping takes less time than ever. Having three varieties of yogurt instead of twenty makes it simple. Less choice, more time for other things---like finding recipes that use less ingredients.

And come sundown, I have time to search for banana rats. And stars. Both which make for a very happy little boy, and if mama is happy---well, you know how the rest goes.

The title of this homemade video by some tourist---"tree rat drinking beer"---is a little disappointing. They are so big and awesome, I really expected to see one pitching back a frosty stein.

Close Rodent Encounters of the Third (World) Kind; or, Forget Rats, We Own the Pearl of Guantanamo Bay

The start of the week was a sad one. My husband and I found out that one of our favorite people, Dr. Karen Austin, professor of Spanish at USM, had passed away. She was a great teacher, and we were lucky enough to become friends with her over our years in Hattiesburg. A few days prior, we were talking about how we really needed to look her up because she would get a kick out of us living here. Then I read in her obit that she was planning a family trip to Cuba. She's been on my mind all week, and when I had some nice quiet time at the beach today I thought about her. I think she would be thrilled we are here. And even though our paths wouldn't have crossed during her trip here, I know she would have loved Cuba.

My husband and I met at USM while studying abroad. (We would end up in Karen's classes together much later). Sometimes, at random moments, he will say, "You remember that time in Mexico that you almost petted a rat?"

While living and studying in Cuernavaca, Mexico, a group of us would go out to eat around 9 pm every night (standard dinner time there) and then go out for entertainment. Some nights it was dancing at a club, other nights it was listening to live bands. Most nights (okay, every night), it involved some libations. Perhaps it was the mariachi music, perhaps it was the yarda (or three) I had consumed. Or perhaps it is the fact my eyes will never be better than 20/40 with corrective lens. I saw a really fat cat, went to pet it, and realized right before I touched it that it was, in fact, a rat. A huge, disgusting, well-feed, really fat zocalo rat. I still have nightmares about that thing.

So today I had a zocolo rat flashback of sorts. We were running an errand at my work, when the kids and I heard a stirring in the landscape next to the door. Then I heard a big yelp, and then I saw it: the biggest, fattest, most disturbingly and freakishly large rodent ever. And it was headed straight for the husband who, as my children will attest, jumped right over that fat sucker. All while managing to keep on his flip-flops, mind you. That takes talent. Lousiana nutrias and Mexican zocalo rats ain't got nothing on Cuban Hutias. Affectionately known as "Banana Rats," these things are at least 20 times larger than a common rat. (They are called Banana Rats not because they eat bananas, but because their poop is huge and looks like little clusters of bananas). The thing waddled, its butt was so big.  It scurried into the water sewage drain, and hopefully it won't be waiting for me when I'm back to work on Tuesday morning. They are supposedly nocturnal, but who knows now that we've had a close rodent encounter of the third kind, and in the broad daylight.

By the way, to tell you the quality of life in the rest of Cuba, hutias are endangered species everywhere on the island but Guantanamo Bay. Same with boas and iguanas. That's because sadly, when you don't have enough food for you or your family, you will kill and eat just about anything.

Hutia pictures here: National Geographic (story on Guantanamo Bay wildlife)



On a whole different topic, we have been looking for a car since we got here. You don't have a car dealership or even a lemon lot on Gitmo---instead, you have to depend on word-of-mouth or people advertising their cars in the local paper. Ads go like this:  "92 Geo Metro, 180K miles. AC screams along with the radio. $5000 OBO." First, I'm not sure what that screaming is all about (that line was actually in an ad), and second, FIVE THOUSAND CLAMS for a hoopty ride? These are what are called "Gitmo Specials," and they are every where. Cars barely making it down the road, driven by their 5th or 6th or 20th owner, and getting by on a wing and a prayer.

So you can imagine our excitement when we found out about a government car auction taking place right here in Gitmo.There were busses, backhoes, tanker trucks, trailers, an old ambulance, and other perplexing items people seemed to want. There were several cute little electric cars (GEMs) and small Cushman micro-busses for sale. And then, there was the one and only REAL car at the entire auction---a 2002 Chevy Blazer.

Back in the day, almost 20 years ago, after Mexico (and fat rats) and Karen Austin's classes, I ended up marrying a guy with a Blazer. And five years later, we brought our first baby home from the hospital in that same car.

For sentimental and practical reasons, I was really happy when my wonderful husband won the Blazer. He was out in hot sun for several hours (and got a little sunburned), but he got the car. Not one but two people  (I'd say strangers, but seriously, there are so such things as strangers in a place like Gitmo) came up to us and said, "Wow, he got the pearl of the auction!"

And that is what we have. I wanted to name it Fidel, number one boy voted for N. Fidel, but Pearl won out.

Here's a picture of Pearl in front of our casa:

And for a nicer view, here are some pictures from yesterday's island adventures. It was Pearl's maiden voyage and this is where she took us. We really got crazy on the one stretch of road that goes up to 35 mph (fastest speed limit on Gitmo!) and she did fine. Yep, it's really that pretty here.

Pearl did great on her first mini-roadtrip.

The water is an amazing shade of blue here.

Can you see the lighthouse? Happy trails from Gitmo!