This guesthouse room is in front. The shutters block out maybe 1/10th of the street sounds which right now are singing and motorbikes. If we’re lucky enough to fall asleep by 4 or 5 a.m., we are woken two hours later by the clanging bell of a pedler selling water.
It is 1962 in many ways here. The bakery is closed. There is no flour. There is some wifi in the square. By square, I mean circle: a big round fountain in front of a church with benches. The two hurricanes last fall were bad.
There are lineups to change money, to see a notary, and I’m told, also, to get a bus out of here. The lion in the local zoo was very sad.
Our friends are a local artist and a Cuban from Vancouver who returns here in winter. We brought candles and medicine for the small Jewish community.
There is a sense of shared common good. No big discrepancy between rich and poor. What’s good for one is good for all.
On Tuesday we hope to fly out of Cayo Coco. I will “see” you all on the other side.
What can be learned?