August 20th 9:35pm Varadero, Cuba
"have you been to Africa recently? Any contacts with Africans?" I knew what she meant, she wanted to know if I've been to any countries that were apart of the Ebola scare. I said no, I know no Africans or been to Africa just to be safe.
She said "Jamaican?" I said proudly "born and raised" she replied "Hang on" confused by the response it's like I answered the trick question wrong. She replied again "Have you been to Jamaica in the last month?" I said "No haven't been there for at least two years now" a standard procedure now have me sweating
I said "Jamaica cool?"
I opted for the room with the ocean view, paid extra and all so you can imagine the surprise on my face when I walked into to a room that was as hot as a pizza oven and smelt like their was an orgy of chain smokers. The ground floor balcony faced another unit far from the ocean no view.
This is exactly what I wanted to do here, stare at other people having fun while I sip on this whiskey and sprite sin hielo.
A new day. Laid out on the chez long, warm sprite and whiskey with the white noise of the ocean, I started to slowly drift to a meditated state. The sun rays intensified by the reflection off the sand and clear blue water forced me to put on my sunglasses, with clearer vision I took a glance of my surroundings. I hate resorts, the fake idea of paradise is very evident here. I can't help but think about the workers, I wonder do they really love it? Love working here? Does the attitude and false privilege of these tourists bother them?
I continued to sip on my whiskey and sprite no ice, and let my thoughts run free.