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Wandering North

Chronicling my travel adventures since 2007

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      • Burkina Faso
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Tag: cigar

Posted inAsia Nepal Nepal Trip 2016

Kathmandu – Durbar Square

After breakfast this morning i set off on foot in Kathmandu from Thamel to Durbar Square. This was no easy feat. My map was mostly useless, due to the tangle of signless streets, so i headed vaguely south. The air was wonderfully cool and the city was fairly peaceful. Several wrong turns and false starts later, the temples emerged in front of me, shrouded in pigeons. Success! The journey though was also terrific, taking me through less touristy neighbourhoods and past scenes of daily life.

Durbar Square is at the heart of Kathmandu and is home to numerous temples, shrines and palaces. It is also busy with locals, worshiping, selling wares, and lounging on the steps. Sadly much of the square was badly damaged in the earthquake last year. The largest temple was completely destroyed and many others damaged. There are piles of rubble and wooden supports holding up the remaining buildings, but it is still amazing to explore.

Many of the statues and much of the ground are still stained with the colors of the Holi festival early in the week. People selling singing bowls, prayers wheels, and religious bric-a-brac. People feeding the hoards of pigeons. Rickshaw drivers waiting for their next fare. Women selling nuts and marigold chains.

It was delightful. The oddest moment was visiting the temple that is home to Kumari, the living goddess. I was told that in minutes she would be making her daily appearance so i decided to hang out and wait. How often can one see a goddess in the flesh? Worshipped by Nepali Buddhists and some Hindus, she is believed to be the reincarnation of a particular goddess. The Kumari is selected from a particular caste when she is very young, like 4, and is picked based on various physical characteristics (i.e. Eyelashes like a cow, neck like a conch, etc.) and following a series of trials (including spending the night in a room filled with severed animal heads without fear). Once selected she serves as the goddess until puberty, at which point she is replaced. No photos are allowed. She finally came to the window on the 2nd floor and sat for our viewing. She was dressed in what appeared to be fine robes and wore dramatic makeup (think Jon Benet Ramsay meets Amy Winehouse). She sat for a minute, if that, looking bored, and than disappeared. Weird and a little awkward.

While waiting for Kumari, i met a nice English woman traveling the world. We hung out for bit and had coffee (the first truly good coffee i have had on this trip), wandered around and saw the rest of Durbar Square, and then went for lunch on “Freak Street” (so named because it was popular with the hippies who traveled to Kathmandu in the late ’60s and early ’70s). For lunch i had my first mo mos: delicious steamed dumplings served with spicy sauce, sold everywhere.

Parting ways with my lovely lunch companion, i wandered around the streets just north of Durbar Square, taking in the sights and crowds. There are shrines everywhere. The streets were so busy that it wasn’t always possible to get pictures, but i did ok.

I decided to take a rickshaw back to Thamel. My first rickshaw! It was very fun snaking through the streets, a bit above the chaos, on the bumpy wheels.

Arriving back, i walked over to the Garden of Dreams, a small and elegantly landscaped green space on the edge of Thamel and sat until i was bored.

I didn’t do much for the rest of the day. A walk, a delicious dinner of traditional Nepalese dal bhat, and a cigar in a pleasant courtyard decorated with flowering shrubberies, prayer flags, and twinkly lights.

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Posted on 25 March 16
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Posted inAsia Nepal Nepal Trip 2016

Nepal – Arrival in Kathmandu

The first time i seriously started planning the logistics and itinerary for visiting Nepal was about 6 months before their devastating earthquake that happened just about a year ago. The the earthquake happened, the Kathmandu valley was devastated and many were dead, so that particular trip planning was put on hold.

Then, in December, i was at home watching an ’80s favourite movie – the Eddie Murphy classic “The Golden Child”. This is a movie generally recognized for its place on many lists of worst movies, but i like it. In the movie Eddie Murphy travels to Kathmandu and, inexplicably, they filmed the movie’s Nepal and Tibet scenes not on a Hollywood sound stage, but in Nepal. Seeing the tiered temples, prayer wheels, monks, and magic made me think: “It’s time to go to Nepal.” And one week later my flight was booked.

I did decide to spend a few days in Delhi on the way here, but here, in Kathmandu, i arrived yesterday afternoon. I immediately knew i loved it.

Flying in, the city looked like a mouthful of yellowed, broken teeth. Driving through it it looked equally ramshackle, but so interesting. We passed the river where bodies are ritually cremated in the open. Next to that is a temporary carnival with a ferris wheel so rickety even i wouldn’t dare to ride it. The rickshaws are all decorated with flowers and colored cloth and bits of mirror. Women wear colorful silks and the older men wear hats like woolen tea cozies. The narrow streets are hung with prayer flags and for sale everywhere are so many appealing looking textiles and handicrafts. It is busy, but less chaotic than New Delhi.

The area i am staying in is called Thamel and it is the backpacker area. A maze of narrow streets with trekking gear, souvenirs, hostels, and cafes and restaurants with ‘peace’, ‘karma’, and ‘yeti’ built into the names. I am staying at the Karma Traveller’s guest house. My room is a bit cozy and has a nice patio with flowers.

A few things of note. In Nepal the year is currently 2071 and their time is 12 hours and 45 minutes ahead of Vancouver. It is a poor country and, sadly, women are treated very poorly, particularly outside of the cities. I’ll spare you the depressing details. Electricity here is a problem and comes on and goes off for certain times every day, as well as randomly. It is primarily a Hindu and Buddhist country. Nepali is spoken here. In less than 24 hours i have now said ‘namaste’ about 1000 times. Mount Everest is here, and yetis. That’s enough. I’m not an encyclopedia. I’m not even wikipedia.

So last night i went for a wander before it got dark. It was busy and completely delightful. I had a bit of dinner at a garden restaurant listening to traditional, live Nepalese music and watching cricket on tv. I promptly threw up my dinner (which was weird, because for the first time in days i feel not at all sick). I settled my stomach with my first cigar in Nepal; fittingly, a Ghurka.

This morning i got up early and went walking in the crisp (albeit polluted and dusty) air and got breakfast. And here i sit. My plan now is to walk to Durbar Square. More to some.
Namaste (1001).

Read More about Nepal – Arrival in Kathmandu
Posted on 24 March 16
2
Posted inAsia India Nepal Trip 2016

A lost afternoon in Delhi

I tried to sleep off my sickness; a plan that was partly successful. I awoke a bit less achy and a bit hungry. Moving slowly, I had breakfast at the hostel. The rooftop was crowded full of young backpackers, traveling in large groups or as couples. I did find one other solo traveler to chat with and we swapped stories over our puri, bread, and bananas.

Today there were just a couple of things I wanted to see, but mostly I was looking forward to the journey. I took the Metro south (i am seriously in love with this metro system – cheap, easy to navigate, women-only cars, and the trains come every minute, literally. Signage told me that obstructing the metro car doors can land you four years in prison, but I can see why with that marvelous efficiency.) I got off near the Lodi Gardens, which i wanted to visit, and promptly turned in the wrong direction and spent the next hour lost, wandering through some quasi-residential neighbourhood, which was quite pleasant – leafy and a bit quiet with a slightly diminished cacophony of horns.

So I walked back to the metro station, this time turning right instead of left, and went to the lovely and leafy Lodhi gardens, which are dotted with mausoleums, ice cream vendors, and couples laying in the grass. I walked around for a while and then napped on a bench under a tree.

I then walked on a busy and uninspired road forever before stumbling upon the Lodhi Hotel, where I ducked in for a cigar and a beverage. The hotel is super fancy and i was sure I would be denied entry, but they welcomed me and set me up in a pretty courtyard with birds and statues, and i smoked a Cohiba Behike and generally chilled out.

Back on the street i walked and was trying to find Hazrat Nizam-ud-din Dargah (a shrine) I never did find it but I sure had a great time looking. I ended up in a labyrinthine marketplace, which was very clearly in the Muslim part of town. The signs had switched to Arabic, the men wore tradition Middle Eastern clothes, and the women were covered head to toe to fingertip in black (a color choice I can get behind), with not even slits for their eyes (a visual impairment i cannot). The market was great. Crowded and noisy. People selling carpets and wall hangings with passages from the Koran, halal butchers, sellers of dates and bananas. I had a great wander, but then I turned one corner and a bunch of men started shouting at me. Not angrily, but with urgency. I had stumbled into some entrance to a holy area, I think, but I couldn’t discern if they wanted me to take off my shoes or leave because it was men only. Either way, I politely backed up and turned around, but before leaving I bought a toothbrush, as I had dropped mine in a pool of stagnant water next to a toilet that morning.

From there I went to Humayun’s Tomb (which is not located on the lonely planet map as indicated) and visited the mid-16th C complex of tombs and gardens. It was beautiful.

I hired a tuk tuk (haggling successfully and theatrically) to take me back to the nearest Metro station and i returned to the hostel where I napped for too long. It is now 11pm and I am sitting on a balcony drinking ginger lemon honey tea and watching the activities in the street. The air is perfect and i feel good.
Tomorrow I leave for Kathmandu.

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Posted on 22 March 16
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Posted inAsia India Nepal Trip 2016

Agra

After a restless two hours of sleep I awoke on my second day in India ready for a long day trip to Agra. This would by my one escorted tour of the trip. I knew I could manage a day trip to see the Taj Mahal on my own, but Agra has so many great, far flung sights, that booking a guide seemed prudent.

I left for the train station at 5:15 am, at which time the station was teeming with people. Some waiting for trains, but many more sleeping or camped out with bags and carpets.

The train to Agra was great. The day before a man i chatted with told me that i should not take the train and that i should cancel and take the bus because the train is not safe for a woman traveling alone. That certainly was not my experience. It was rough-looking but comfortable and the price included water, tea, breakfast, dinner, and ice cream. I am fairly sure however that it was the breakfast that left me sick and vomiting for the rest of the day. I still have no appetite. Anyway, the ride was great. I got to see some of the countryside and also number of residential areas which i can only describe as slums, with modest, broken habitats, and piles of garbage. We also passed parts where there were dozens of men squatting and shitting by the railroad tracks. So many of them. I never seen anyone defecate before and now I have seen more than I can count. I guess you have to go somewhere. On a similar vein, I also saw women making and leaving to dry dinner plate sized cow patties which were then stacked up into tall mounds, like large beehives. The dung is used for fuel.

So I arrived in Agra at about 8am and was met by my guide, who took me right away to the Taj Mahal. I am so glad we did this first, as this was just before the vomiting and painful muscle aches set in. The Taj Mahal did not disappoint. The walk into the complex was impressive and along the way were working camels and curious monkeys. Finally, we stepped in, passed through a gate that in its own right was amazing, and then were facing “The Taj”, as my guide called it (but I won’t call it that; i haven’t earned that level of familiarity).

It was beautiful in all of its gleaming white symmetry. He told me the history and noted the architectural details – sometimes it is great to have that available. We circled it, with me taking a zillion pictures, and then we left.

Out next stop was after a long ride into the country. We visited Fatehpur Sikri which was a former, walled city from the 15th C. It was quite magnificent and i enjoyed looking at it and hearing about the king and his many wives, but at this point i started to feel lousy.

After that was lunch, which i spent throwing up as soon as i had my first and only bite of lentils. Following lunch we visited the Agra fort, which was also great and beautiful. By this point though i was aching so badly walking was unpleasant and i threw up in a garbage can.

I rallied a bit after that and my guide and i went to sit in the gardens across the river from the Taj Mahal to watch the sunset. I had a cigar and he told me all sorts of things about life in India, women’s roles, poverty, education, religion…you name it. It was very edifying and he answered all of my questions.

After the sun went down and we finished watching tourists taking idiotic pictures of the Taj Mahal (holding it in the palms of their hands, picking it up by their fingertips, making archways with their arms over it…seriously moronic, but each to their own i suppose), i still had over two hours to kill until my train and i couldn’t eat or drink anything, so i suggested we find a hookah bar, which we did. It was a divey place, nearly empty, except for a few guys working there and playing the loudest, most annoying rave/club music imaginable. I was just happy to sit down and the shisha was good, even if it was smoked from a hookah that had as the neck a replica AK47.

The train ride back was a lost to me in sleep and i crashed as soon as i returned to the hostel. The day was a good one, but a long one, and i felt like garbage. I knew i would get sick at some point on this trip, but i thought i would make it longer than 36 hours.

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Posted on 21 March 16
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Posted inAsia India Nepal Trip 2016

Hello, Delhi

My trip to Nepal starts in New Delhi. The flights I was looking at at all went through New Delhi, so I thought i should spend a few days there. I hadn’t been to India before. I have wanted to but just hadn’t made it. Too many places within it to visit made it intimidating to try to cram in to 2-3 weeks, but on this trip I can at least see Delhi.

I arrived after over 24 hrs of travel, flying through Shanghai. I landed in New Delhi at 2am, but by the time I made it through immigration, baggage, and money changing it was 3:30. I took a rickety taxi to my hostel. The drive was great. The air was warm and the traffic light so we sped through the streets, with the driver telling me about the Holi festival, helping me with my Hindi, and spotting monkeys. We also smoked in the taxi. An invitation to smoke in a taxi is always welcome.

As we drove into the area where my hostel is in the main bazaar area of Pahar Ganj, the streets narrowed and we dodged early morning rickshaws, people sleeping in the streets, piles of stuff, and cows chilling out eating scraps left over from the market. I took all of this that i was staying in the right area.

My hostel is the Smyle Inn, a modest budget hostel on a narrow side street. I have a room which lacks any charm and while it doesn’t look it, i believe it to be clean. The staff are very nice and helpful and there is a free breakfast. I am content.

I slept for 2 hours, ate and headed out.

The streets that had been quiet a few hours earlier were and are now wonderful madness. A whirlwind of rickshaws, tuk tuks, scooters, bicycles, vendors with carts of food and other items, medium sized brown dogs, and pedestrians. No sidewalks, so i snaked my way through it all, brushing against the people and motorists.

I made my way to the nearest metro station and rode a few stops north into Old Delhi, which is all the chaos of the previous neighbourhood, but intensified. Men called out constantly, wanting me to take their rickshaws, wanting money, trying to sell my things, or just wanting to talk. This will grow tiresome, but today i minded it not at all. That being said, their was one boy who followed me for blocks. He spoke no English but walked too close and chattered to me. I shooed him away repeatedly and with increasing sternness. Finally, when I though he was gone, he grabbed my ass and ran off.

I walked through a market, past a bird hospital (imagining parrots with tiny wing casts and crutches), and went to the Red Fort, one of New Delhi’s main attractions. It was a complex of lovely buildings set in a peaceful park. It was pleasant but not amazing.

From there i walked for ages, convinced i could find my was to Jama Masjid, India’s largest mosque. Miraculously, despite the dearth of street signs, i found it. It is a massive mosque, teeming with tourists. Beautiful, but not on par with those of Egypt or Uzbekistan. The tourists detracted from the solemnity i think. I did relish in the mandatory shoe removal, wandering in stocking feet on the worn, warm stones.

I went back out into the streets. I walked, again for ages, to Connaught Place, a very British designed, circular shopping complex, with wide sidewalks, and a nice park in the centre, where i sat under a tree for a while, people watching.

I then walked, stopped for lunch at a vegetarian restaurant where i was overwhelmed with options, and walked down to the India gate where throngs of people strolled around and sat in the park or splashed and bathed in the pools in the park.

At this point it was only afternoon, but i was exhausted. I took the metro back to my neighbourhood through more markets and then for a nap.

A note about the metro. It is great. Cheap, fast, and there are stations all over the city. You have to go through metal detectors and get wanded to board, but the security does not seem very thorough. Each train has a car just for women. I rode the train three times today. The first time i rode in a regular car, which is just like riding in any crowded subway. The second two times i rode in the ladies’ car, which i think i will do from now on. It is far less crowded and it smells infinitely better. Plus, there are no men chatting me up.

I am amazed by the women here, how dressed up they are in beautifully coloured saris, with glittering jewelry and sandals, exquisitely long hair, and beautiful makeup. I felt so scruffy by comparison.

After my nap i went out for a stroll and to a restaurant for some dal and tea and a cigar on a nice second storey balcony, overlooking the street, enjoying a cigar.

Before coming here everyone told me how bad the city smelled, but this has not been my experience today. Sure, sometimes i would pass a spot that reeked of urine or body odor or exhaust, but more often i was treated to the wonderful smells of strong incense, roses, and frying chilies and spices. No complaints here.

Ready for bed now. Tomorrow i head to Agra for the day.

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Posted on 20 March 16
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Posted inCentral America / Caribbean Cuba

Our Woman in Havana

I was undecided about what to do with my final day in Havana. Obviously there would be walking, but i wanted some sort of loose destination. Musing over my morning cigar, i discovered that every Sunday afternoon there is an area with live rumba music. Good enough. Little did i then know that the destination would be even better than live music. I set off through Havana Vieja, past Parque Central, down Calle San Rafael for many blocks, until tourists thinned out and were replaced with local residents doing their daily activities. I tried not to be too obvious as i snapped photos.

I found my way to my destination – Callejon de Hamel – wondering where the live music would be and whether i would even be able to find it. It wasn’t hard. The short street, closed to cars, is lined, crammed, and towered by art. Graffiti, sculpture. Benches made from painted, repurposed bathtubs, courtyards filled with scrap metal totems, the sides of buildings covered with murals…even some art studios, open for visiting.

There were a couple of cafes/studios which were filled with an acceptable mix of locals and visitors. Most of the locals were afrocuban and spoke good English and were happy to tell me about this neighborhood, the artists, and the free programs for autistic and disabled children provided there. I had the local drink – a Negro (like a mojito but with basil instead of mint) – bought a couple of cds of rumba music and took in the sights.

At noon the bands started to play. All percussionists, singers, and dancers. All but one were women and they played the most infectious music. The crown pressed in and climbed up the sides of the buildings to get a prime view. I stayed until the rains started and then headed back to old Havana for an early dinner.

I did of course, stop off for a final cigar at the Partagas Factory VIP room.

What glory! Back in old Havana i found a restaurant that served pizza! Not the barely warm white bread covered with a whisper of sauce and tasteless white cheese that is ubiquitous in Havana, but actual crispy, chewy pizza with tasty sauce and four vegetables. It was great. I celebrated by having a glass of wine and pair of Ramon Allones robustos. I enjoyed a chat with a couple of local travellers from Germany and listened to some decent jazz from the band on the corner.

I have to say, the food has been better than i expected in Havana. Everyone told me that as a non-egg-eating vegetarian i would have nothing to eat, so i packed granola bars, almonds, and cranberries. True, there is not a great variety for vegetarians and the food is bland, but there is lots to eat.

When the evening came i went to the Hotel Inglaterra where, despite its gorgeous appearance has dismal service and drinks, i met with Stripes’ friend Rosalita. Rosalita had mentioned the other night some no-longer-in-production Limited Edition Cohibas she had a line on. Stripes was leaving but i agreed to meet up and get the coveted cigars. I felt like a drug buyer as a sat on the patio, trying to look casual as i stirred the sugar at the bottom of my watery mojito and eyed the crowd for Rosalita’s face, looking at my watch occasionally. The covert nature of the transaction was entirely necessary as Rosalita could spend years in prison for selling us the cigars, as could the person she bought them from. I smoked a comically large cigar, which did nothing to help the invisibility i was seeking. Finally she showed up, sat down, and ordered a beer. We chatted for a bit about tattoos and the availability of American music in Cuba before i asked, “Do you have the cigars?” She nodded and, just below table height, opened a satchel just enough for me to look in and take a deep whiff of the leathery, barn-yardy smelling cigars. I slid an envelope of money to her across the table. She passed me the satchel of cigars under the table. We finished our drinks, i declined a drive, and i made my final way home, finishing my cigar just as i put the key into the lock.

Havana has been a good trip. Not particularly different or exciting, but enjoyable and relaxing. The best part was the cigar culture and cigar experiences and having some friends there to share that with and to open doors to experiences that i would not otherwise have had. Oh, i decided to keep count of the cigars (not counting cigarillos) i smoked and coffees i drank – for no particular reason other than curiosity. 9 days, 31 coffees, 40 cigars. That adds up to a good trip.

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Posted on 23 November 15
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Posted inCentral America / Caribbean Cuba

Casablanca, Havana

Saturday morning in Havana started a bit late, due to the late night spent smoking in the park the night before. With Stripes and Noodles en route back to Canada, i was on my own. After my late breakfast i walked down to the water and caught a ferry across the water to Casablanca. By “ferry” i mean a simple, standing room only open sided boat that takes people across for a fee (half a peso). The ride was pleasant and gave nice views of the old city across the water. It was all locals on the boat, except for me and one guy from Chicago, with whom i chatted on the way.

On the other side, for being so close, Casablanca had a slightly different feel, a little less precious, quieter. I walked up a hill toward the giant statue of (surprisingly) Jesus on the hill.

And from there down a pleasant road bordered by attractive army buildings and rockets, missiles, and planes on display. I paid to go into the fort – the one that is always visible across the water from Havana.

The fort wasn’t very interesting really, but the views and breeze were nice. After a bit though i was satisfied that no sight was left unseen and i boated back across. This time the fare was twice as much but i didn’t care enough to complain.

After a great nap, i decided to visit the bars on my street (Calle Brasil) that i had not yet visited. I went to a couple of cool ones that played rock music and featured abstract black and white photography or showed awesome adult cartoons on TVs. I had a mojito (i don’t actually like mojitos, but i don’t drink beer and mojitos are cheap and seem Cuba appropriate) and a plate of yummy olives, cheese, bread. These bars were cool and not just Havana cool; they would be awesome haunts anywhere.

I also stopped on a block unlit by street lamps and filled with off duty bicycle taxi drivers and avocado sellers and watched people in a small store, leaning on a counter and shooting bebe guns at rows of empty soda cans on the back wall. There didn’t appear to be any prizes, just the fun of shooting things. I waited around for a turn, but the men shooting had no interest in giving up their guns, so i wandered down to the Plaza De San Francisco for a virgin Piña Colada and cigar on the square and watched the throngs hanging out in the cooling air.
(You would think i might be tired of cigars in plazas by now, but I’m not even close.)

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Posted on 22 November 15
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Posted inCentral America / Caribbean Cuba

The Cigar Dinner Long Con

Friday was Stripes and Noodles’ final day in Cuba and they were keen to spend the morning taking full advantage of the inclusiveness of their all-inclusive and we agreed to meet in the mid-afternoon in Havana Vieja, so i had the morning to leisurely stroll about the city. It was good. I could walk without aim, stopping where i liked to drink coffee or take photos. I smoked a cigar while i walked (well, more than one), which attracted calls of “Cohiba!” “Puro. Bueno!” In addition to the usual calls of “Lady!”, “Linda!”, and various variations of that, accompanied with comments on my tattoos. Difficult to keep a low profile in the non-touristy areas, but i still got some decent photos.

I loved walking past the empty bodegas with little to sell and the anemic produce stalls, and counters selling endless sandwiches of pork on yellow bread. As touristy as parts of Havana are, it is very easy to find areas with none at all, and i was thankful for that.

Meeting up with Stripes and Noodles, we had some coffees, cigars, and drinks at one spot and then another, killing time in the pleasantest of ways until it was time for the closing dinner of the Partagas cigar festival. Noodles went back to his hotel to change and Stripes and i fixed ourselves up as much as possible (there is only so much i can do with the same sweat-soaked outfit I’ve been wearing all week) and caught a rusty, red Lada to the far edge of Miramar to, i don’t know where, some hotel.

When we arrived we joined the crowd, most of whom were wearing their finest, complete with sparkles and bow ties. We were given a cigar each and a sickly sweet green cocktail and we did some hasty mingling before going inside to the air-conditioned dining room, which was stunning, like the wedding i never wanted. The crowd really was from all over the world, with every continent represented, like a Miss Universe pageant of cigar smoking men.

We sat for a bit with two guys from Detroit – a CEO and his attorney – who had flown in on a private jet. They were quite pleasant, but they moved to a different table for dinner, leaving us three at a table for seven. And this is where the con came in. Goddess-height models began distributing gift bags of cigars, one per guest. But with two extra place settings already disturbed, we decided to create two characters who were conveniently away from the table when the bags were doled out, so they left two extra bags for our absent friends. All evening, as they handed out more and more fantastic Cuban cigars, i kept saying, smoking that my husband (Eduardo Pachanga) was in the bathroom, and they kept giving me two of everything. Of course to keep this up, we had to nibble at the extra appetizers and entrees we also got and would move napkins and wineglasses around to keep up the ruse. But it worked and we got two sets of everything. Cheezy and juvenile? Sure, but i have all of my extra cigars to help with the shame.

After dinner, they auctioned off beautiful, one of a kind humidors sticked with cigars, that went for $10,000 to $20,000 to various, high-rollers. We wisely raised our hands only high enough to puff on our cigars.

We left before the dancing started and hailed a taxi back to Parque Central with our bags of cigars and a mostly full bottle of Santiago de Cuba 20 years rum. We decided to have one more cigar to finish off our final night in Havana together, but none of the bars appealed, so we sat down in the park, on a bench, near a sleeping drunk, and smoked cigars and Stripes and Noodles drank rum from the bottle at the time neared 1am. The weather and surroundings were perfect and it a great way to end the day. At about 1:30, we went our separate ways.

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Posted on 21 November 15
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Posted inCentral America / Caribbean Cuba

La Casa Del Musica

Thursday was another lazy day. The only plans we had was to have dinner with Stripes’ friend Ramón who is from Havana. I had a late start that day and then just went for a walk around the old city, stopping for a Bolivar at the La Casa Del Habano on Calle Mercaderes, which has a comfortable quartet of chairs for smoking and a another cigar and an espresso on Plaza de Armas.

I met up with Stripes and Noodles at 3ish. We did a spin around the plaza and i bought a beautiful book from 1870 or so on adultery and one of those Cuban Revolution trading card books that they sell everywhere. Despite their ubiquity, i still think they are pretty cool. From there we walked down to the arts and crafts market where we bought nothing, save for Stripes and Noodles acquiring a couple of rum filled coconuts for sipping. On the way back to my casa to drop off my books, rather than walking, i insisted, over Stripes and Noodles’ objections, that the three of us take one of the cute/cheezy coco taxis, which (barely) seats three. It was ridiculous, but very fun to zip through the narrow streets in a bright yellow ball on wheels.

We ended up at Parque Central, where we retired to the rooftop of the Hotel Parque Central for a few drinks, Cohiba Behikes, and the excellent view over the city.

We met Ramón at the Hotel Telegrafo for a drinks before we drove in his car to a restaurant in the Vedado area. Stripes had been there before and described it as “a hidden gem”. Hidden no more, because as we arrived we saw a tour bus outside and the place was crammed with tourists. The restaurant was good, with a lovely atmosphere and good food (including vegetarian options), and ponds of colorfully lit fish. Over dinner, Ramón told us about the trials of operating busineses and buying and selling cars and property in Cuba and the role played by the government in all things. As do most things in Havana, dinner went late, so by the time we left it was after 11pm and Stripes suggested that we head to La Casa Del Musica in Miramar. (I wanted to go to the grittier one in Havana Central, but i was outvoted.)

La Casa del Musica’s opening act didn’t start until midnight and the main act at 1am. We paid our cover and took out seat in the busy and freezing cold club. I immediately noticed one thing: no one was smoking. And then i saw flashing across the screen on stage (in Spanish) “no smoking”. I was horrified. When i imagined myself in a Havana music club, i always saw myself with a large cigar. Apparently the policy at this club had changed very recently. So i sat there in the ice cold, too fresh air and stirred my mojito sadly.

Fortunately i was distracted when the opening act started: two singers, and a bevy of dancers in feathered brassieres and headdresses with a small band playing salsa music. Despite the lack of a real dance floor, couples all around us stood up and began to salsa and shimmy. I remained sensibly seated.

The main act, Bambaleo, took the stage at 1:00. We were fading at that point, but i insisted that we stay for a couple of songs. The 16 member ensemble dazzled the audience with tempting salsa beats and vocals. It was good, but my eyes were heavy and the hour late, so we left after two songs. As we left, groups of what i was told were prostitutes entered, dressed festively, in search of visiting men.

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Posted on 20 November 15
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Posted inCentral America / Caribbean Cuba

Smoking not Eating

Yesterday i was super low energy, as i was suffering from a mixture of mild food poisoning and sleep deprivation. Nevertheless it was a good day. I shuffled my way over to the Partagas factory to meet Stripes and Noodles at the vip room for some Cohiba Behikes and coffee. We chatted with El Jefe a local photographer who showed us his work, and a doctor from Canada. After a couple hours there we went by taxi to a Casa del Habano run by the son of Alejandro Robaina, which was a treat. Noodles and El Jefe had lunch; Stripes and i, having no appetite, stuck to smoking. We has some piña coladas, more Cohibas and a Robaina torpedo. The humidors there were exquisite, featuring many cigars i had not seen in years. We sat there for hours smoking, and drinking (me mostly water). It was very relaxing.

We were going to catch a taxi back to Havana Vieja and call it an early night, but we saw a beautiful restaurant and decided to check it out. It was in a grand 1930s house but had opened as a restaurant only 11 days earlier. We settled in for more cigars and snacks. Surprisingly, the food was cheap and amazing. The food in Cuba is not good, but this was a welcome exception. I even managed to eat a few nibbles of cheese, bread, and olives.

From there we hopped into a 1950s chevy (not a taxi, just some guy’s car) and went to the Parque Central hotel for one final drink (me, more water) before Stripes and Noodles caught a taxi to their far flung hotel and i walked home for much needed sleep.

Read More about Smoking not Eating
Posted on 19 November 15
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About Wandering North

Welcome to Wandering North, where I have been blogging about my travels since 2007.

Dale Raven North

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