Cuba, the unknown..

As I have always professed, the step out the front door is probably the hardest one to take, thereafter it's more or less one foot in front of the other, drawing on your life experiences to make reasonably educated decisions about what comes next. That doesn't ever mean to say that there is not ever a feeling of uncertainty or trepidation, for even the most streetwise and travelled of people. I consider myself relatively streetwise, and on the way to being travelled, but prior to getting to Cuba, there was a full emotional range of feeling of uncertainty and doubt. I dealt with it in one particular way, just reminding myself to try and immerse myself in this opportunity of a lifetime and that the uncertainty too shall pass. I also think a large part of people's hesitation to embark on solo adventures, is the feeling of loneliness and solitude. This can be a tough part of any adventure and it's always better to share an adventure with someone than to embark on it on ones own, for the singular reason, it's easier. There is a sense of being relaxed because there is always a companion nearby to fall back on. I say that in the nicest way, for we all like to have our own time, but when one is tired of that, there is always an alternative. The solo traveler tends to revel in the solitude, and even in the initial stages, of wanting to have someone to talk to, but, the best travels are mostly done where there is no responsibility to anyone else and ones consideration of time is uni-directional. Call this a selfish human trait, but I think if we all look within then we will all admit to having this feeling, even when at home and with our mates. It's great to see them, but there comes a time when one wants to rid oneself of the company and just be in ones own space. I don think there is anything unreasonable about that, and once one comes to terms with that fact, solo travel is perfectly acceptable and manageable. Other people can always be found to talk to, even when the language is foreign and there is a sense of hopelessness about the solitude. I had a number of people start talking to me today, my first day in Havana, but I really just think they were more interested in Penny than me. No surprises there. The journey here was also long and full of thoughts, some heart wrenching, some desperate and some just thinking, WTF? I had a fantastic week preceding the flight to Cuba, but as impermanence will have it, I was cognisant of the imminent ending. A few days at Los Tolmos with Howard, and when he says, "Mi Casa, Su Casa", it's meant in every sense of the word. It's an amazing place for all sorts of reasons, this year was also about 25 degrees cooler than last (I'm not exaggerating at all) and my heart wasn't in a million pieces either, which helped immensely. Probably more for Howard than me. I have realized that after a year of emotional destruction for me, I have completely moved on now and also realized that the rib I broke at the same time as the final heart shattering knife wound was delivered, has also stopped hurting. I find that absolutely amazing, that potentially the two were tied together in some bizarre and macabre way. The healing of one, coincided with the healing of the other. Yay to both. Also the memories of the past, created by songs, events and places has stopped being a factor and there is no longer a resonance within, to either or any. So, the last week in Spain, saw a visit to Granada, home of the Alhambra, a palace where the Moor rulers were domiciled during the reign of the Iberian peninsula, which stood until around the 14th century. Historians, please don't hold me to the exact time, but Granada was one of the strongholds. A beautiful city and as expected, full of Arabic influence and charm. Everything from the architecture, to the spice shops in the small corner bazaars, echoes the Moorish occupation. Unfortunately there were no tickets available for an internal visit to the Alhambra, as they were all sold out, but a bus trip up and a walk through the old town beneath was good enough to impart a good deal of tourist satisfaction. I also always find myself gravitating to the smaller side streets and not the main tourist boulevards in attempting to unearth some kind of off-the-beaten-track treasure trove . I guess that's a metaphor for how I have always lived my life. I have also come to the conclusion that in visiting a city, 2 days is plenty to explore and see the worthy sights and do enough walking and exploring to satisfy my soul, any more I find too long and unnecessary. Restaurants and bars were explored, the avenues negotiated and the plazas photographed and appreciated. From Granada it was up the motorway 403 kilometres to Madrid, through the Andalucian olive orchards. Howard made a valid point, in that, nobody ever seems to be seen working in these orchards, yet somehow Spain produces 10 percent of global olive oil. We had a theory that they do it at night in one weekend just to keep the allure and mystery going. Also, the Spaniards don't seem to be the nation most hell bent on over working. I guess the siesta system enforces that theory. They do however seem to live to an extraordinarily age generally, but not without the addition of spectacles, usually at a younger age than usual, so another theory was formatted for that. Their habitual sleep patterns, lack of a full day's work and their Mediterranean dietary accompaniment allows the aging, but is, in return, coupled with sight issues. Again, not fact, just a theory and I stand under correction. I last visited Madrid in 2014. It holds good, happy memories for me and is touristically a magical mix of culture, history, palatial abodes, fabulous convents, statues and churches. It is also has a myriad of consumer related pleasures to indulge ones MasterCard fervently in. It is my favorite place to splurge out of any city I have visited, so it's a good thing I am A) budget restricted, B) Luggage restricted and C) a reformed shop-o-holic with a shoe fetish. My last visit was quite the opposite and the shoe shopping took on a whole new meaning, as anyone who knows me well, will attest, I like a good shoe. Again, it was 2 full days of walking the various street, arcades, plazas and architectural hot spots. The royal palace and cathedral are very impressive, but so many of the old buildings are. Massive facades and doors, spires and lofty towers, all adorned with gargoyles, or depicted leaders of an age long since dissipated. The age of fear, ordained by religion and when there was a clear divide between those who have and those who have not. A time when there was little one could do if one was not born into the right circumstances and the church held sway above all else. Walking the city, there was a completely different atmosphere to anything else I had experienced in my month in Spain this time. Perhaps it was the anticipation of El Classico, the match between Barcelona and Real Madrid, but it was just nice to see people again, with a very prominent sense of style, compared to the barren bad lands of the first weeks riding, where there was no style, or people for that matter, or anything, come to think back. Two sides of the same coin, a coin I have very much come to love and enjoy. If my fluent Spanish gets much better, I may have to actually relocate there, who knows. One day in Cuba and it's still a bit daunting, but Penny made it here intact, which I can't say the same for the bicycle box I'm using to carry her in. 3 flights down and it's looking a bit tatty to say the least, more gaffer tape than cardboard currently, only just holding it in the shape it is normally accustomed to. Anyway, I'm staying in a delightful Casa, 2 blocks from the Malecon and come Wednesday, I am heading out into the abyss which is Cuba, but right now I think I'm going to embrace all that I have learnt in Spain and go for a siesta. My eyes are already shot, spectacles apparent, so I may as well now live to a ripe old age. Sorry all.... Everybody dies, not everybody lives....make yours the best you can, or die trying.