Most of the trip involved my new religion: Banana Daquiris, and other things with rum in them. I have discovered that drinking one metric fucktonne of water whilst you imbibe, immensely decreases your chances of becoming either truly drunk or hungover. The bartenders at the resort do not measure shots when they pour drinks, so sometimes things are a little... beyond what any human should truly be able to stomach in one go - like the Tequila Sunrise I ordered that had far, far more tequila than sunrise in it; so much more, in fact, that it was truly impossible to drink at all.

My biggest regret is that I couldn't bring the weather back with me. When I left Cuba it was somewhere near 23 C, and when I landed in Canada it was 1 C, with freezing rain. I protest! I have caught the snowbird bug!

Going to a resort is an education in many things. One of them being a concentrated view of cougar country. For anyone not in the know, a cougar is an older woman who spends her time looking for male meat; usually much younger and far better looking than she deserves. There was one particular woman who treated the Cuban men like her personal snack tray, ordering them about like they were on a leash to her whims. She was, I have to add, making them all mightily uncomfortable - particularly the ones who informed her that they were married. This did not seem to daunt her in the least, and she persisted in her efforts to find some ass. I believe she failed.

Then, of course, there's lessons in What Are Pervy Mexicans Like When They're Drunk. They are pervy, and drunk; annoying, laughably so. One fella was trying to touch every woman that passed him, including myself. At some point someone must have complained to the hotel staff, because one sunny afternoon he was escorted out of the hotel by hotel security and a military policeman, wearing nothing but his overly small Speedos. His two friends remained, including the one that looked suspiciously like Eric Estrada.

By the way, men should never wear Speedos - especially when they're past age 20, and have enough belly to rival a pregnant lady.

There was a woman there who looked a hell of a lot like Sheila Copps. This will likely mean very little to anyone who isn't familiar with Canadian politics. All I have to say is this: If that's what Sheila Copps looks like in a bathing suit, I worry for my nation.

British parents are funny with their kids. There was one extremely large footballer type covered in tattoos, whose son must have been getting up to some mischief or other. And this very huge man is talking to this very little boy so calmly; "Cameron, stop that. You're being naughty." It just struck me funny, because I don't think I've ever seen a North American parent act so calmly around their child, and the wording was cute.

There's an outdoor washroom located behind the grill, which makes it a hell of a lot easier to go when you're enjoying the pool or the beach, and what I found most interesting about it, was its cleanliness. Usually one expects something truly frightening from a pool-side washroom, at least in my experience. Not only was this washroom cleaner than any pool washroom I've ever been in, it was also cleaner than most public washrooms in any place I've ever been it. I was impressed. Now if only the folks at Tim Hortons could take lessons from these folks on how to keep a place tidy.

More later.

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The area where I was is lower right, circled in green. Close to Guantanamo, but nowhere near Havana.