Part 11. Inwhich we still search for the market.

We spent a really interesting morning with Linoska, my head was still spinning at some of the things we saw and the stories she told us of life in Cuba. Good things and bad things. Really, Communism does have some (theoretical) good ideas. I'll write about them later, I have used an odd sort of short hand in my journal that I'm sure I'll soon forget how to decipher, so I will use this space for my own musings, I certainly don't expect you to read/enjoy or be entertained by some of my thoughts, but blogging has become the "new diary." Anyhow, she dropped us off, with plans to meet tomorrow, and we decided to freshen up and go in search of the elusive market.

The above sign struck me as a little funny, it just sounds so whiny: "desnivel del piso." I like to think that "piso" means bathroom, but I know that "banyo" is the proper word for "bathroom" so I guess "piso" just means "floor." But it was a floor in a bathroom, so "piso" is appropriate. So we got ready, careful of the desnivelly piso, and headed out for some street lunch.

This type of sandwich seems to be the most common type of street food. It's just called "a sandwich", I guess the same way that we call a burger just "a burger". It's ham, cheese, tomato and either cucumber or pickle, (I guess the cukes are just poor quality pickles) and it's all pressed in a panini sort of machine. Costs about $1.00, we would stop and have one of these and a beer quite often. I was really surprised that Steven was so cavalier about the food, but neither of us got remotely sick. He did stay away from the water though, sticking to bottled water (and beer). I drank the water, I (luckily, so far at my age) have a cast iron gut. We ordered cola now and then too, and of course it isn't Pepsi or Coke, but either a local brand, or an import from Spain.

We wandered in the same area as the other day, past the disreputable St. John's Hotel, and *wham!* There was the market, right where we were told it would be, appearing as if it had just sprung magically up overnight. Which in fact, in had. There were dozens and dozens of stalls, loaded with handmade arts and crafts, some pretty nice, and others pretty much crap. No offence to the artisan's. Steven was buffeted on all sides by whispers of "You want cigars? Rum? Black Coral? Cholesterol drugs?" (yes, you read that right, more on that later)" I was approached in a more mannerly way, which was both good and bad. I was sort of sad that I don't look like someone who might want black market stuff, but then again, do I really want to look like someone who wants black market stuff? Maybe just a little.

Steven kept vanishing down back alleys with these people, but coming back empty handed. He does like the bargaining, haggling aspect, and he isn't afraid to wander off. I wondered a few times if he was coming back at all, but he kept reappearing safely.

I bought a few nice souvenirs, all for next to nothing. I wasn't much of a bargainer, I was probably spotted as an easy mark right off the bat, but I was happy with my purchases.