Hola Cuba!

Who would have thought that one of the best handicapped room experiences I have had so far, amidst hundreds of hotel nights in hundreds of towns and cities, would be found here in Cuba, in a beaten up, 20 year old resort. Yet here it is, a sink lowered with a mirror angled so I can use them both, with well placed safety bars beside a toilet raised up to handicapped accessible height, with a roll in shower and built in seat all well drained completely to a central drain. This is not to say it's perfect. If I wanted to, there are things to complain about. Then again, no matter where you go, if you want to, you can always find something to complain about.

The resort itself is about 20 years old. Although it has been renovated over those years, there are plenty of cracks showing in the make-up of this old dame. Tiles are broken out of the floor and need repair. One of the safety bars in the bathrooom has been yanked halfway out of the wall. Doors need painting. Towels are thin. This is Cuba in all its glory, a third world attempt at first world quality. Over all, they do a pretty good job of it. The resort central areas have high ceilings; all the buildings are open concept, with birds flying about, chattering along side the guests, all of whom are after food and drink.

Safe arrival, safe vacation, safe departure; that is my goal. Most of the worries for my trip down were for naught, with the notable exception of the transfer from the airport to the hotel. We ended up with a cab, another added cost of life in a wheelchair. On the other hand, everyone from the airline staff to the hotel maids have been terrific in helping with my wheelchair. Katherine and I are well ensconced, the free bottle of rum in our room already partially consumed.

This resort is primarily populated by Canadians, with a few Russians and Japanese thrown in for good measure. I've already seen several people who were on our flight down with us. It's a mixed group, with everything from slow moving octogenarians to yummy mommies in teeny bikinis pushing baby buggies. There are young people out for a week of bachanal, drink by noon. There are plenty of kids of every age. I've even seen another person in a wheelchair, although it looked more like he got it after he got here rather than bringing it from home.

The dress code here at the resort is exactly what you might imagine; plenty of men in cargo shorts, t-shirts of every description, sun dresses covering damp bathing suits, beach wear covering a totality from nearly not there to almost transparent to down right demure. I, unfortunately, am still stuck with compression socks, although at a minimum I am wearing them with my khaki shorts. And it is warm outside, with a gentle breeze floating in off the Carribean Sea. It's do.