cubanomics: papa vs lizard
Cuba is famous its charm. I decided to hire a guide all. Maybe he could find me some. Roberto, I'll call him, took me to Hemingway's house. It's a plantation-style manor with a guest cottage and a swimming pool. I must remember to write harder. There's a three-story tower with a small room the top where Hemingway go and think big thoughts ("Where is that gin bottle?").
And in the toilet the main bedroom, there's a pickled lizard on a shelf. The lizard got a fight with one of Hemingway's cats. The cat won, but the reptile fought so bravely that Papa felt the need to immortalize it. The liquid in the container was low, I noticed. It looked somebody had taken a few sips out of the lizard jar. And, second thought, I'm not sure I have what takes to be a major author.
Roberto was chatty, full of official, government-approved information. On the way to Hemingway's house we passed the dilapidated worker housing everywhere spoils the Cuban landscape. The buildings are nothing concrete pigeonholes - six-story-high, hundred-yard-long stacks of tiny apartment boxes.