So This Was Summer

Buddha patiently waits the next hot spell. We only had a couple so he may have to try again next summer.
It was okay growing weather for all of us dilettantes. Rain when needed and moderately warm. God knows the zucchini flourished.



This little guy drops by several times a day to guard against hunger pangs. He doesn't seem to care how many squirrels are in his way; he eases in, goes about his business and scuttles off.

Paradise

The garden has peaked now.

For a while the place was firmly held captive by an army of new weeds that apparently sneaked in with a new plant. Feathery leaves, pretty blooms and a will to rule the world. Those things had roots originating way down and across to the other end of the earth.

Enter my daughter the Earth Goddess. Her will was no match for them.



I'm bemused by the oriental rhubarb. I love plants with big leaves and this one delivers the goods.Leave it long enough and that will be the entire garden.

In time I can rent the place out for Jungle Games.

What to Eat?

A tourist in Cuba won't see what the average citizen eats but we spent one day touring Havana and this is what we were served.

The fish is red snapper, the veggies were crunchy and the rice is always just fine. I like food to be well seasoned and they have the knack.

Friday night at the resort was declared Lobster night and the staff went all-out to prepare and display the food. The lobsters are smaller than those in Canada and their shells are pale and freckled. Delicious.


I planned to photograph the chef around an array of lobster but he misunderstood my fractured spanish so here we have number five son with the chef and one lobster.

This is what I think of as the"all-purpose" area, catering to Canadian, Spanish, French and Italian palettes and this presentation is a bit of everything, just as long as it is grown or caught on the island.
there is a strong Spanish influence in the people here as the chef indicates.

This artisan created the viola while we dined.
I wonder when people were allowed to dismantle it? Now that would be a real chocolate high.

Cuba Revisited

We're visiting a dictatorship and since mingling with the civilians is not encouraged all of us tourists lived on a spit of land with magnificent light sand where machines clear away any tide-line debris each morning.

There is little choice for gift-shopping so we did what is expected; five of us piled into a tiny cab and headed off a short drive to Varadero flea market.

At first glance the market does not have curb appeal. If you stared at it for an hour it wouldn't suddenly have curb appeal. It takes up a small city block, several aisles set out in higgly piggly order, shaded by an archway of plastic sheeting.

Souvenirs are made of anything located on the island. Anything you can think of is carved from coconut and local wood. Anything you can fashion from shells is fashioned. I'm not sure where the cotton comes from but the tee shirts are printed with pictures of Che Guevara. He is their hero.

The shopkeepers line up chairs in the middle of the aisles and they sit together and chat while keeping an eye on their own stalls. Many men worked on their wood carvings and some women crocheted beautiful hammock covers and over-the-swimsuit shifts.

It was always hot, desperately bake--0ven hot and they had set up little electric fans that sputtered a bit of cool air their way. It was best not to examine the method they used to get electricity of any kind in there.

You'll need to make two trips; the first time, just wander through and check out the merchandise. You will be too drippy and slippery to actually buy anything and another thing--there is very little haggling--you pay what they ask.

On your second trip, you know roughly what you want to buy and where to find it and it goes very well. your cab driver will amiably wait for you as well.

About the taxis--there are few cars and buses that are older than 1958, due to the American embargo. The vehicles they have are kept in beautiful condition and cars are passed down in the family. I didn't see any speeding or careless driving--those vehicles had to last.

We lucked out with one cab, a gorgeous 1950-something Cadillac. with those lovely fins, leather seats in immaculate condition and the kind of top that accordions down at the push of the button. We felt as though we were in a magic land as we floated back to the resort.

This is Heaven

We haven't had much summer weather in Ontario so we de-camped to Cuba where they specialize in forget-perspiration-this-is-sweat weather, with humidity to match.

Lovely.

I had no idea I could lie still longer than fifteen minutes and it turns out I can pass the day with book close at hand and study the ocean from over my toes.


Mind you, it didn't hurt that someone comes by every once in a while with cerveza (beer, very cold) nibblies of all kinds and the barbecue is steps away up the beach for those who don't wish to amble to the several restaurants dotted about the resort.

Thinking was reduced to the basics--which restaurant to try for dinner and is Fidel still alive? Personally I say no but it is a mystery, except, I would imagine, to the CIA.