Since returning from Cuba one month ago yesterday, I have been a busy guy. I have completely mowed my massive yard twice and am currently well into the third mowing. I have set out hanging baskets of flowers as well as a large container garden. The fifteen new chicks that were waiting on me when I got back are all doing well thanks to my constant attention, and I have acquired a flock of baby guineas that are also doing just fine - again thanks to my almost hourly oversight and mother-henning.
In the past thirty days I have played pinochle on several evenings, traveled into the wilds of Arkansas on multiple occasions, read and reviewed a novel written by a friend of mine, kept this blog going, and have been working on writing a short story - a mystery tentatively involving a missing person, a decapitation, and a bit of therianthropy.
The one thing I haven't done during the merry month of May is enjoy reading any of the two dozen or so postcards that I mailed home from Cuba - because none of them seem to have arrived yet! Part of my morning routine each day that I was in Cuba was to sit at the desk and in hotel room and dutifully pen "having a wonderful time - wish you were here" postcards to my three children, my sister, and my grandson, Boone. I carefully selected each card, trying to find just the right ones for each of my relatives, and was careful to add the correct postage. I mailed them at the front desk at the Hotel Capri.
The cards that I sent had pictures of old cars, Old Havana, the malecon (sea wall), tobacco plantations, and old women smoking big cigars. I was careful to include many aspects of Cuban life. Imagine my disappointment to find that none made it across the small strait that separates Cuba from the United States.
Perhaps my cards are in the desk drawer of some Cuban bureaucrat who is carefully reading them to ensure that I am not transmitting any state secrets. Or, worse yet, in the desk of some American bureaucrat sifting for intelligence where there is none. Who knows? The only thing I know is that somebody's postal service has failed.
For the time being, I think that I will blame the Cubans. Their internet, after all, was abysmal, so it stands to reason that their mail transportation system might also suck.
Come on, Raul, start kicking some Cuban butt. Gringo tourists will come to Cuba even if there are no Starbucks, McDonalds, or Walmarts - but damnit, they expect the necessities like running water, internet service, and the ability to brag about their Cuban adventures through colorful postcards home. Anything less is just third world!