Cuba and the hot Italian hippie who wears Prada….

Well, that’s the least boring trip I’ve ever taken.  In my life.  25% shit show; 25% party; 50% wildly entertaining beyond all expectations.

So, never did see my kid.  She was too busy to come to Toronto to see me.  Apparently Toronto is as hard to get to as Cuba.  And apparently if I were a good  mother I would have hoofed it to Waterloo.  Not.  Instead, I parked myself at the hotel bar, where a fishing convention was being held.  I cannot even begin to explain the strange and f*cked up people I met there.  I will make a long story short:  Drunk girl looking for reassurance that her insipid and controlling boyfriend (who was so beneath her it was unreal) was someone she should be with, whacked out individual doing lines of coke and rolling joints at the bar; correctional officers attending the fishing show who recognized the guy but ignored him, correctional officer hitting on me who thought he was so suave and sophisticated I nearly choked on my drink; the fishing show TV star with the big belly who thought he was the shit.  I could go on and on but I won’t.  I arrived at the airport the next morning with a vague hangover – those fishing people are party animals.

My friend, who I will call Mata Hari, took my kid’s place on the trip.  In hindsight, good move on my kid’s part to bail and leave that space open 🙂  We have very similar traits where it comes to men and alcohol consumption so it couldn’t have been a better match.  I’d go anywhere with that girl – she is the perfect travel companion. This blog will cover the first couple of days of my trip.  It started out rather epically.

Arrive around midnight, get total shit room, sleep in clothes as can’t be certain the sheets are clean, and am completely pissed off and wondering if this is a harbinger of things to come.

Morning One: Wake up early, go to front desk, complain and get upgraded to nicer, cleaner ocean view room right by swim up bar pool.

Morning/Afternoon One:  Being Ms. Social Butterfly, I meet bunch of people from Toronto at the pool.  We are all drunk and partying our asses off by 2:00 pm.  Enter the smoking hot, yet humble, amazingly tanned Italian man with shoulder length black hair with a touch of grey.  God, I nearly died.  He knew the crew I was with.  Lucky me : )

Evening One/Morning Two:  Have awesome buzz on.  Hot Italian hippie (HIH) comes back to my room, I get changed and we go out on the town.  Am a bit blurry on the details.  We ended up back at his awesome fancy place.  I fall asleep on him and apparently I snore.  Who knew lol.  Then I woke up.  And there was no snoring going on then.  Then we woke up again.  Still no snoring.  Then breakfast on the balcony in the hot, sunny, un-Halifax like weather.  So romantic and fun.  I decided right then and there that I really like HIH.

Afternoon/Evening Two:  HIH is scheduled to leave the resort at 3:00 pm.  We hang by the pool, have a few drinks and commiserate that we just met as he is leaving.  But, I am a pragmatic woman, and know a holiday hook up is just that.  Got a final photo of myself with HIH a proof it really happened.

Hung out with new friends and it was such a shit show of fun!  More fun was to come:  Who shows up at around 5?  HIH!!  His flight was delayed.  I’m so flattered he decided to cab it back from the airport (about an hour’s drive) to see me.  It was so awesome – Mata Hari said we ran into each other’s arms and everyone at the pool was thinking “Oh look at how cute those two are”.  I really didn’t think it was possible for two fifty something year olds to be “cute” but apparently I’m wrong..  So, time for a little reunion and off he goes again.

After all that excitement, I needed an early night so was back in the room by nine.  I was just going to bed and someone knocked on the door.  I’m like “WTF??”  Well, it was the HIH!!  Flight delayed again!  I got dressed and out we went to party and dance at the disco.  And let me tell you, that man can dance like no man I’ve ever seen before in my entire life.  I can’t even describe or explain it.  It was unbelievable.  Picture a Harlequin Romance novel cover with the handsome hero and the long flowing hair and hot, chiselled, tanned body; add some incredible, yet non-tacky, dance moves; and you’ve got the picture.

Yes, he did eventually have to leave for good.

Evening Seven:  Fast forward to me leaving Cuba and arriving in Toronto.

Who is waiting for me but the HIH, wearing Prada jeans and looking so sexy I nearly knocked him over and did bad things to him right there in the airport!!  He looked like a god.  I swear.  He is the sexiest man I’ve ever met in my life.  Anyway, he had a hotel room booked for us. How seriously awesome and nice is that? He even had a bottle of wine waiting for me. We finally had a chance to talk and he is really a sweet guy. And weird. But in a good way.

We’ve talked every night since I got back – a whole entire  five days. He becomes weirder yet more appealing to me the more I talk to him.  Not to mention I could stare at him naked for hours…

This is a strange thing, I realize that. As I am neither rich nor outrageously gorgeous, I can only assume my witty personality has captivated him.  That plus he is weird and I like that and most other women probably couldn’t appreciate it.

So, in honour of all this weirdness, I’m going to Cuba again on March 21st.  It’s all booked.  Meeting HIH who wears Prada there.  A crazy ass move even by my standards.  But, when I think to myself – will I actually regret doing this when I’m on my death bed taking my last breath – I highly doubt it….



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