18:1 šØšŗ
note to self: download a variety ofĀ languages on translator appāyou never know who youāll run into.
**warning: this is a long one
the time has come for me to leave my plush, private bedroom/private bathroom accommodation in havana, cuba that iāve enjoyed for ten days now, and move to my usual hostel dorm, which really i donāt mind so much. i swing by the Habana Libre Hotel to pay for some wifiāsend a few emails, respond to a few texts. then iām off to Lunass Hostal in central havana.
the last time I made this trek it cost me $10 for a 5 minute taxi ride to a place that only costs $5/night. that felt wrong. this time i am fully prepared to make the 45 minute walk with 30lbs on my back and 15+lbs on my chest. the only thing is, itās 3:00 and i told my host she could expect me from 2-3. for this reason, i rationalize that perhaps i can take a coco taxi. surely i can negotiate lower for a mere bobble head taxi. as it turns out, itās my lucky day. to the 6 men standing together who see me approach and eagerly say ātaxi? taxi?ā i just have to point my little finger and say āeso.ā and the one, stand alone coco taxi was mine.
i greeted the driver and told him where i needed to go. in my best novice spanish, i said itās 5 minutes, very close, i pay $5. he laughs and i show him the map again and he surprisingly agrees. iām elated. just to clarify, i am by no means against a walk, i actually love to wanderājust not in the afternoon with all my things on my back running late. for these reasons, i can justify $5.
a few minutes later we pull up to the front door of the hostel and i hand the kind driver $6, because iām american and tip culture was bred into me. now i just have to pick up my 45lbs of belongings and go up 4 flights of stairs.
iām practically panting by the time i reach the hostel door, where someone is there to let me in. i recognize the familiar face of the host as this is my third stay in Lunass hostal. i just love itāsoft sheets, hot water, good water pressure, only 4 beds to a room, a towel (rarely included in hostel stays) and a soft blanket all for $5. no, $4! i remembered incorrectly. she charges me a total of $8 for the two nights. after giving her my passport, signing the book and paying, she hands me my keys for the front door, room door, and locker. oh yeah, lockers are included too. great hostel.
there are a lot of variabilities that can shape your hostel experience:
is it a party hostel?
do you party?
how many people to a room?
Ac?
fans?
outlets?
lamps?
lumpy mattress?
scratchy sheets?
towel, no towel, paid towel?
location
staff
price
lounge areas
hot water
activities included
wifi
breakfast
the list goes on.
according to the above list: this place has it all.
the one thing that can cancel out all of these factors?
your roommates.
iāve stayed in many hostels with many different people, but this experience was unlike any other.
and iāll have to speculate as to why.
letās go back to when i first check in.
itās late afternoon and i get a towel and key that says 5, which is a bottom bunk. praise be. only in specific situations are top bunks preferable. in my experience,Ā bottom is usually sought after. iāll take it.
i see the other bottom bunk is made as if there isnāt another guest there.
there are things on both the top bunks, so i assume itās three of us rooming together. no biggie. maybe iāll make new friends like the last times i was here.
iām exhausted and, quite honestly, just want to sleep and listen to my audiobook. so i lay down and am drifting off to wonderland when the door abruptly opens and someone enters. a tall man who looks like he could be in his 40ās, talking loudly on the phone in a foreign language that isnāt spanish. okay, no siesta for meāiāll just listen to my book. i put my headphones in and listen to my book all afternoon, feeling too lazy to even go look for food to eat. during this time, these 2 men come and go from the room, always allowing the heavy door to slam behind them. i said hi to one of them and then that was it. nothing more. no mas.Ā nada. maybe we donāt have any languages in common, or maybe they just werenāt feeling chatty.
once it gets dark, i turn on the room light and am sitting upright on the lower bed, listening to my book. one of the men enters the room and turns off the light and gets into bed. not the weirdest thing ever, but, in my experience, people usually ask or indicate if they can do that when other people are present. and 8:00 seems rather early. i continue listening to my book in the dark and utilize the wifi at 9:00 when it comes on. during this time i am quiet as a mouse, trying to allow my roommate to sleep peaceably. at one point he snores, so i know itās working. the room smells bad every 10 minutes and finally i heard an audible fart, so that confirmed my suspicions. i got gassy roommates.
by 11:00 i am ready to hit the hay, but thatās just too bad because thatās precisely when homeboy wakes up and illuminates the room with the lamp by his bed. love that. then he loudly goes to the bathroom, turns on that light too, leaves it on, and departs. i wait a few minutes to see if he is going to return before getting up and turning them both off myself. itās as if i donāt exist, or perhaps am not a human. iām not sure what theyāre doing on their frequent trips into and out of the room, but from 11:00/1:30 they continue to come and go, always allowing that heavy door to slam. at 1:00 am the one above me (mr. tootsalot) lays down and starts watching something on his phone without headphones. i understand sometimes there are cultural differences. iāve been to many places where itās common for people to have phone calls on speaker phone in public areas. but with the door, the lights, the gas, and the speaker at 1 am, it began to irritate me a bit. somehow i eventually fall asleep.
in the morning when i wake, they are fast asleep. and would continue to be for several more hours. okay, so theyāre just night owlsāi get that. but i still down get their total and utter disregard for my presence as a human being. in the morning, i go to the living area to see if i can get online to do a little work. the kind lady tells me the power is out. oh yeah, that happened last time i was here. in certain areas of cuba, power outages are frequent and usually scheduled. i guess iāll finish my book! i have plans in the afternoon so i leave to do my thing for several hours. by the time i get back to the area itās after 5:00 and i am starving. i pop my head into one of those window shops to see what they have. i end up ordering 2 little pizzas and 3 beers for a grand total of $2.85. of course I tipped, so it ended up being $3.64 for dinner (actually breakfast, lunch, and dinner). not bad.
i take my food up 4 flights of stairs and eat, not bothering to enter the dorm. i drink my beers on the terrace and catch up on some Marco Polos with my sisters. finally, after 9:00, i am ready to shower and get ready for bed. i have to get to the airport in the AM for colombia.
at first it was peaceful. one guy was in the sala, avoiding any and all eye contact with me. the other guy was nowhere to be seen. i shower, get into bed and try to figure out my airport ride for the following morning and end up using the wifi until 11:00. and, of course, this is when the chaos ensues againālike clockwork. the men come and go, shine bright lights, i swear one of them is farting freely. did i mention our single, shared toilet is clogged? and it wasnāt me, so by process of elimination (ha! elimination)..
by midnight i am finally drifting to sleep when the whole thing repeats itself again. guy #2 gets into his bed, turns on the light (for the remainder of the night), and starts playing his phone out loud. before i know it, i am the one awake at 1 am with the room lit up and theyāre both snoring, sleeping like logs.
is this the end of the world?
not even a little.
two crappy nights of sleep is hardly anything to write about (my siblings with little kids would laugh).
iām just baffled because of the odd nature.
what are these men doing here? i rarely see middle aged men traveling together, yet i actually donāt know if iāve ever seen them speak to one another. they are either silent or on the phone. and have they even left the hostel? it doesnāt seem so.
why do they refuse to acknowledge me? no friendly hello, no ask to turn off the lights, no head nod, nothing. itās as if they have the room to themselves
like i said, iāve been to a variety of hostels, some shitter than others. for the vast majority, travelers are very considerate. there are quiet hours and dark hours (usually 10-8), people avoid shining their lights in your faces or turning on lamps unnecessarily, they gently turn the handle to close doors softly, they introduce themselves or at the least nod and smile. some snore. some fart (but never this much).
this certainly wonāt go down on my list of stories or wild experiences, but is something iām thinking about at least for now. not because i feel slighted for the $8 i spent, but because i want answers. are they brothers, lovers, co-workers, random strangers happening to be here at the same time? why donāt they leave the hostel? why cuba? why do they refuse to acknowledge me? is it cultural? are they sexist? am i merely a woman who dare not have human needs such as sleep or functioning olfactory nerves?
i donāt want my money backāi want answers, dammit.
but, because of the weird vibes and language difference, i suspect iāll never get them. little do these men know, whoever they are, that i am lying here stewing over who they might be while they snore peacefully 3 and a half feet above me. it is very likely that i might not have registered to them at all.
at 4:45 am the one above me loudly gets up, the light is still on from number 2. when he gets back on his bed i smell citrus, and hear him eating food he must have been storing in the fridge. great. then he begins sending audio messages OUT LOUD from his bunk in our shared dorm at 4:56 in the morning. wtf
i cough so as to say āhi. hello. iām here. i exist. please allow me to sleep.ā then he starts watching a video with volume on and i reach my breaking point and softly say in english ācan you please wear headphones?ā and for context i add āitās four in the morningā as if he could understand me. and i guess he did because he turned it off and it was just the light + the snoring from guy 2 i had to ignore to try to fall back asleep
at 6:30 guy 2 was up to shower pack his things and leave the room by 7:15. my alarms are set to go of at 7:30 and 7:45
i turn off my impending alarms and get dressed and pack my things. as i enter the main living area where man 2 is ready to go. i want to ask if heās going to the airport, but neither he does he seem chatty nor do i think we speak any mutual languages.
i owe the host money for water and wifi, so i wait for her and the man leaves. i ask the host about the cheapest way to the airport since the bus system leaves at inconducive times for my flight. she says i should have coordinated with the man that just left. ahāi guess he was going to the airport! damn. she asks if iām ready and i nod my head. she picks up her phone and calls the taxi driver, whom i assume she summoned in the first place. she gets him to wait 5 minutes for me. i pay my remaining dues and return my keys as she rushes me out the door. āgracias por todo!ā i exclaim as i begin my descent with all my items slung around meāfront, back and side.
when i get to the ground level where the taxi is waiting, i greet the driver and thank him for waiting. man 2 is standing erect on the other side of the taxi wearing an expression that is anything but amused or delighted to be sharing this taxi. the hostel host told me it would be $25 for both of us, so i should think he would be happy to save some money.
he sits in the front, i have the back to myself, and we commence our awkward journey to the airport. the taxi driver asks which airline and i tell him Wingo. he gestures to the man and he nods. i say āvas a colombia? bogota?ā and he nods again. silence. what.are.the.odds. not only for us to be sharing this 35 minute taxi ride,Ā but also to be going to the same place.
the rest of the ride is in silence, which i am okay with. my head hurts and i didnāt sleep well, as aforementioned. when we get to the airport, the man pays and gestures to both him and i. i ask how much and he holds up his hand. i donāt want to assume heās paying for me, so i sort of sit there for a beat before trying to confirm, this time iāll ask in english, maybe he knows some english. he sort of gestures with his hand as if itās been taken care of, so i say thank you in spanish and english. at this point im just hoping he gets the sentiment. the driver helps me with my bags and i give him the end of my cuban pesos, $6-10 and say āuna propina.ā i needed to get rid of my pesos anyway, so hopefully that helps the driver and doesnāt emasculate the guy iāll just keep calling man 2.
for me, i got the most affordable taxi ride to the airport in cuba there is. the bus station would have been a 40 minute walk and $10 anyway. iāll tolerate some awkward silence to save a few bucks.
the man seems to be waiting for me as i collect my bags, so i guess we are going into this process together, though he doesnāt seem thrilled at my presence. maybe iām over speculating, maybe heās just stoic. iām sensing possibly on the spectrum (takes one to know one) and the language barrier, gender difference and age difference makes things weird anyhow, right? so we walk in together and i ask where to go for Wingo and am gestured to the other end of the terminal. we find the Wingo lines but no workers are present. i ask a woman when checkin begins and she says she doesnāt know. the other people lingering near the Wingo lines seem to dissipate and find seats. man 2 shows me his flight info and i show him mineāitās the same one, as expected. i find out heās from Azerbaijan, but lives in Russia through the translator on his phone. iām happy he has internet, or maybe english already downloaded.
i gesture for us to sit somewhere since it could be a while before the checkin counters open. he tells me through his phone that he doesnāt know what to do since he doesnāt speak the language and asks if we can check in together. i use his phone to tell him i travel a lot and feel very comfortable and am happy to help him through the process. he seems relieved. or not. i canāt really read this guy period. all i know is he didnāt acknowledge me before i forced my way into his taxi. he scratched my back (paying for said taxi) and now i can scratch his (helping through the airport). sort of a weird phrase, but itās the only one that seems to fit this odd set of circumstances.
i tell him we probably have an hour to kill before we can check in and we sit in silence thereafter. that is, until he hands me a little white bottle from his bag as if iām just supposed to know what that means. once he has rezipped his bag, i get his attention and gesture to myself, as in āare you giving this to me?ā he nods and says it is perfume. do i stink?? surely not. i showered and put on clean clothes. iām even chewing gum since i know it will be a while before i get the chance to eat. i can see the tiny wording on the label has a portion in english and it is, indeed, perfume. i thank him again, but donāt quite know where to go from there. i sort of just hold it before asking āfrom Russia?ā and he says no, the factory is in Istanbul. āoh cool!ā i say. i break the seal a little and place a drop on my wrists and tell him i like it with a thumbs up and english he probably doesnāt understand. we go back to sitting in silence.
we have at least another half hour before we can even check in. i cannot initiate any conversation since my translator only has spanish and english downloaded. iām comfortable in the silence and assume he is too, since heās been that way the entire time. he now knows iām friendly and i know he doesnāt hate me (the perfume settled that).Ā we talk a little more through his phone and i find out heās a journalist living in St. Petersburg. heās either lived there for 12 years or since he was 12, the translation made it difficult to differentiate. heās on vacation. i want to ask him why cuba why colombia why doesnāt he speak any spanish. who was the guy from before. wait, i think i did ask him about the other guy and he didnāt answer. thatās odd. iām still out of answers for all the questions i had before. i guess maybe itās clearer to tell why i wasnāt acknowledged. i think itās a mixture of suspected neurodivergence, language barrier, and cultural norms (patriarchy!!). he told me i can contact him if i ever want to visit Baku, which i didnāt know what the capital of Azerbaijan.Ā i gave him my whatsapp. iām glad i got the chance to humanize man 2 a little, lest should he remain a nameless villain in my story forever. oh, heās not nameless. i learned his name is Farid.
i help farid check in and am quite impressed with my level of spanish to be able to communicate with the workers and then use faridās phone to tell him what they need. i guess perhaps they could have used his phone to translate spanish to russian, but i like to think i helped. the woman was very kind and checked me in without an issue. he had to show proof of onward travel which i was worried about myself, but i think she trusted i knew what i was doing and didnāt ask for mine. PHEW!
we get through checkin, immigration, and security without a hitch. we are still 3 hours early to our gate, so time is there to kill. i get 30 minutes of wifi and attempt to download Russian on my Google Translate App, but it wonāt work. farid shows me his seat number and what do you know, we are both in row 5. after getting through security he told me i was his guardian angel. when he saw our seating he said its a miracleāthe hostel, taxi, flight, and even seats matching. i responded in english saying itās crazy, i think he understood.
iām not sure where to go from here. i feel like my role is done,Ā but we are sticking together through it all i think. my head still hurts and my stomach wonāt stop gurgling. glad i splashed out and spent the $7 at the time of booking for some food on the plane. i know myself well enough to know i will refuse airport/airline prices in the moment, but my flight being $7 more seems more vague and inconspicuous. i wont notice it in the long run, but i would not be able to enjoy the food in the moment if i paid for it on the spot. its not rational, but it is what it is.
we board the plane together, for which Wingo has no modus operandi. everyone just gets in one line and boardsāand i must say, it was the fastest boarding time iāve ever seen. perhaps the weight distribution matters on bigger planes, or perhaps itās all classist, hierarchal bs that only unnecessarily complicates things. no matter, we fly and as soon as we deboard, Farid finds me. for an international business man, he sure seems nervous at airports. i help him through immigration and itās actually hilarious how fast things have evolved in the past few hours. this morning i referred to this guy as, āman 2ā and now i am telling immigration what he was doing in cuba and what his plans in colombia are.Ā we stop at baggage claim where i use his phone once more to tell him i need to get my bags and talk to the cellular people, and ask if he feels okay getting to where he needs to go. he indicates that yes he is good and had previously expressed to me that he was in a rush. he handed me a keychain with the evil eye you see all over greece and turkey. maybe heās in the keychain business as well as perfume business (and is a journalist?). he thanks me again and we finally part ways.
what an odd encounter i never could have predicted. for the last 2 days i have been stewing over how inconsiderate and frustrating these guys have been. leave it to empathy to make you realize we are all just human beings being human.
