Cubalicious!

I'm back. From Cuba I mean. And I suppose also from this blog break I've been unintentionally taking.
Ahh, Cuba.
Paradise.
It truly was.
I could go on and on about the beautiful beaches, white sand, gorgeous landscaping, sculptured pools, swim-up bars and such. But really? Sorry. You had to be there.
So, rather, I will give you some insights into how holidays happen in the world of Susie Schwartz.

It started on the plane.
Mr. Man and I have a bit of a ladybug problem at home. Apparently that problem travelled with us.
Literally.
Don and I were sitting somewhat uncomfortably in our tiny seats, (although we had an extra seat so no complaints) and Don reaches over and nudges me, pointing ahead with his nose.
There it was. One of our little guys, crawling on the seat in front of us.
He explored the scary looking man's seat for awhile and then we lost sight of him.
Hmm. As we were landing in Cuba(!), the scary looking man was standing, trying to shake out the inside his shirt. Our little guy? Yup. Pretty sure. Well, I suppose he has a new owner now. But heck! That little guy is in Cuba! Now he just needs a mate to start an infestation there and he'll be in glory!
Guilt about not flicking it away? Just a little. But the pleasure of seeing where the little guy would end up was worth the guilt. Not gonna lie.
Enough about a ladybug.

We often ate at a very large buffet (the resort was huge!) and the Cubans really did pretty good serving so many people buffet style. Okay, so foodhandling is not their strength but I can't think about that. I have issues. They added some classy touches, like the fact that we were served our drinks and they had chocolate swan sculptures for decor at the dessert table.
Speaking of that beautiful chocolate swan...I saw a woman snap that sucker in half and put the chocolate on her plate to eat. Wow! PMS perhaps? Cuz what else would possess someone to eat the decor?! Maybe she was married to the classy man wearing red and white Canadian flag hammer pants to dinner. Um, Sir? If you are going to represent, umm, maybe not hammer pants please?

The pool.
Oh boy.
I could go on for pages.
I thought I would be bothered by my husband being surrounded by eye candy everywhere. And yes, there were a few hard bodies in bikinis. But honestly? I was more intimidated by the amount of speedos confidently walking around that place. Even pink flowered speedos. On a beer-bellied man married to a woman. Once again, hmm. Did you get your outfits mixed ups folks? Cuz those are little too small for you Sir. Avert your eyeballs, Susie. Avert your eyeballs. Unfortunately the image is forever burnt into them.
How about the white-haired man that was splashing me asking if he "got me wet" and pretending to be an underwater snake coming at me. Really? I mean, I know I am ravishingly beautiful and when the sun strikes my hair it shines like gold and I have the body of a model but...Okay. Seriously. So I have a large chest. It all  comes down to that apparently. All I can say is... Old. Creepy. Where is Mr. Man when I need him!?!
And Mr. Man's reaction when I told him? Uproarious laughter.
Thanks.
Knew I could count on you to protect me.

I saw a bad movie play out in front of me while I was once again alone, (So much for a romantic holiday. Apparently I was alone a lot.) sitting at the swim up bar. Three young guys were standing in a triangle discussing who gets which girl. Really? That happens in real life? Oh those poor girls. No respect. Before I could get on my soapbox and teach them a lesson they had divided to conquer. (No, I wasn't really going to give them a talking to. These things just happen in my head.) Look out hard bodies! Here they come!

It was a tad bit strange when I went into one of the public washrooms on the resort only to find a local man sitting on the partition of the stall I entered to use. Just sitting there. Looking down. I was startled.  He was not. Weird.
I used another stall.
What bothers me most about that particular situation is the fact that I will never know what he was doing just sitting up there. Or maybe I do know and am just in denial. Regardless, creepy.
Another unsolved mystery in my head is this: What did all the people do who didn't carry a bag to hold  a T.P. roll wherever they went? Cuz having T.P. in the washrooms is not a priority in Cuba.
I suddenly have a very suspicious view of that sculptured pool I swam in daily...

I won't talk about the foreign object I bit into one meal. Simply can't go there.

Only single working headlights on ALL the resort shuttles (It was that big!) except one. Oh wait. The other one just burnt out. Never mind.
Random cats wandering through the restaurants.
Man wearing underwear. Only underwear.
The list goes on.

 The entertainment on the resort was priceless.
No, we didn't go to any shows.
We just sat around with our eyes open.
Good times, good times.

I did meet a nice gentleman at the bar who recognized my insulin pump hanging off my bathing suit. He was in the process of deciding whether to get one or not so I went into my pump promotion mode and hopefully convinced him to get one. It is one of the best things I ever did for my diabetes. I think Mr. Man may have even bit a bit jealous sitting in the distance watching me talk to this attractive man for 10 minutes. Score! Mr. Man could use a little protective jealousy in his life when it comes to me.
Wait. Don't get too excited for me. That jealously, if even there, lasted all of a few seconds when I came back to report that he wasn't hitting on me, but rather having an intelligent medical conversation.
Cool though. Opportunity to motivate even so far away as Cuba!

So, thanks for the holiday Mr. Man. It was incredible.
For serious.
And I will be forever grateful for the laughter-filled memories made at Memories Resort.

I hope to meet again soon, Cuba. You rock.

Pink speedos and all.

:)