Posted December 13, 2022: This is my last post of 2022, a not-very-good-posting-year. I’m here to tell you about the last covid-delayed trip of an oddly grueling twelve months. My long-long-long long-time travel buddy, Teresa, and I visited Bogota, Colombia; Quito, Ecuador; and Vinales and Havana, Cuba. The locations were just fine, the transportation nearly killed me—although some, like my trusty old grey horse, were worth the shooting pains extending from tailbone throughout entire skeletal structure. The Cuban oxcart and the 1947 Plymouth (or whatever it was) were mildly rewarding as well. Jet Blue on the other hand—not so much.

I’ll say little about this journey, the photos must tell the story.

COLOMBIA (MOSTLY BOGOTA) What is worth some extra word power however is to note my pleasure in traveling with Teresa. She has managed, with only minor help from her father, mother, and grandmother, to become the very nearly perfect traveler; curious, patient, thoughtful, and nearly as willing to sloth about a bit as to bike ride in a volcano. Teresa, like her father is mildly obsessed with Lonely Planet, which is good (well, pretty good), even when it leads to standing in the rain for an hour waiting to get into the best chicken-soup place in Bogota. Teresa is how I attempt to understand the world as experienced by youngish people. It’s not that my other three grandchildren aren’t knowledgeable, it’s just that they manage to avoid being alone with me for days on end discussing the coming apocalypse.

Here’s a synopsis of the trip. Flew to Ft. Lauderdale from our respective A-Cities, Albuquerque and Austin. Took Jet Blue to Bogota for about 2 ½ days. Enjoyed what turns out to be an attractive, livable, and engaging city by riding the funicular to the top of a grand mountain and visiting charming old buildings in the dense fog; spending an afternoon at an art complex that included the Museo Botero with a substantial collection of Fernando Botero’s work; eating that Lonely-Planet-famous chicken soup (which was excellent: chicken that actually had the texture and flavor of chickens that scratched around for bugs and fought and flew, instead of dying from hatching in a giant cage, never having moved or eaten anything except fake food to produce giant flavor-free breasts); and lastly visiting a cathedral that was created inside a old salt mine. There’s also a fancy little restaurant under ground AND best of all, you can lick your finger and run it along the wall, and lick it again for the salt. Fun. Not hygienic.

ECUADOR (MOSTLY QUITO HOTEL FOR ME AND SOME MOUNTAINS FOR TERESA)

Then a trip on an airline called LATAM from Bogota to Quito. Do not do that. It cost more to check baggage than it would have to buy first class tickets on a regular airline. If Teresa were writing this she would tell you about her big biking in a volcano day. It was a major adventure of which she seemed to love every grueling moment. She also did a somewhat lengthy walkabout of picturesque Quito. I spent most of our two days working on some pre-editing/restructuring of my book since the altitude bothered me quite a bit; it’s over 9,000 and most of Albuquerque is just over 5,000. Also I was being old and tired those days. Unlike my usually youthful approach to life….

CUBA (VINALES AND HAVANA)

I loved our days in the beautiful mountains and valley of Vinales. (We did get royally cheated in our stupid-tourist attempt to buy ‘real’ Cuban cigars and rum. But what’s a more time-honored pastime for travelers than to be cheated by the locals! And in this case, the locals are in dire financial straits partly because of the US government’s catering to Cuban Americans in government, who by and large, are still nursing their grievances against Fidel Castro—while kissing butt with the far more evil and dangerous Saudis.) Never mind all that—although I will admit to minding it a little. Teresa and I went horseback riding for a good part of a day, through field and forest, up mountainsides, and across raging (not) rivers. It was brilliant. My horse was thirteen years old and appropriately docile, Teresa’s six, and a bit friskier, and our guide’s was three-years-old and bored with the lot of us. We took an oxcart ride to a tobacco farm, toured a spooky cave, ate a few meals of black beans and rice, walked about the laid-back and charming town of Vinales, and ate black beans and rice.

HAVANA

A few hours drive, and we were back in Havana to wind up this adventure. Havana is a dispirited place these days. Our hotel host, formerly of Montreal, but having lived in Cuba many years, was a font of historical knowledge. Just today, a story in the NYT shares pretty much everything he told us so here it is—highly recommended.

Havana’s (and all of Cuba’s) history is a wild adventure all on its own, and when the intertwinings with the US, Russia, and all of Latin America are included, it is quite a story. I began what appears to be a comprehensive and excellently-told tale, Cuba: An American History (Ada Ferrer) too soon before the trip to complete it, which makes me quite annoyed with myself. I was there knowing enough about the country to realize how much I was missing of both bold adventure and nuance by not putting in more study time. Travelers…do not do this. Know before you go…some of a place’s history, geography, culture at least.

Havana was harder to maneuver than expected. The shortages are immediately apparent: dairy products and toilet paper for example. And it is not possible to use credit or debit cards from the U.S. which came as a shock since we had understood debit cards were okay. With some help from our hotel manager and Teresa’s partner’s paypal account we managed to get enough dollars and pesos to eat and enjoy the occasional mojito.

It was a very long way home, makes me want to never fly again. Arrive Havana airport pre-dawn for a morning flight, cancelled, afternoon flight can get me to Ft. Lauderdale but not all the way home, few hours in a cold airport hotel (Florida building AC never lets up), flight to Houston, flight to Albuquerque, heavy bags (since every bag is now $35 to $45 or more to check I decided not to check backpack, dumb move, it was heavy). I was coming down with traveler’s diarrhea (also known as Montezuma’s Revenge, Delhi Belly, etc.—I named this Castro’s Curse. At least I was back in the land of toilet paper). Home to a round of Cipro (which I keep on hand as any experienced traveler should), sick most of a week, lived to fly another day. The End.

I’ve been back 10 days and have not had the urge to travel again. Maybe it is time…to…stop…? Nah.

The new year is upon us. I’m going to become the person in 2023 I meant to become in 2020.