Part 8 in which we hang at a jazz club.

Tonight we decided to go to a jazz club. Neither of us is really much on jazz, but it's Cuban Jazz, and we're in Cuba...who am I to buck a trend? Plus, it's some of the members of the original Buena Vista Social Club...you can't get more Cuban musical than that. The type of music is called "son", it's a blend of African rhythm and Spanish melody.

We have found ourselves a taxi driver, Rolando, who is willing to take us around town whenever and where ever we feel like going, plus he'll return to pick us up too. So off we go to the Havana Club, for dinner and a show.

The dinner was wonderful, Steven had "shrimps" and I had beef. We had a mojito as well and sat back and enjoyed the music and dance. The dance is called "guaguanco" and it's a sort of salsa, but it has a story, it's a lighthearted battle between an insistent man and a woman who is pretending to ignore him. The couple who danced had me mesmerized. Man, could she move!

The building had a large courtyard, open to the sky, it was great to sit and breath in the fresh air, and see the stars above us. It was beautifully warm, and no mosquitoes or flies at all. Actually, all of Havana was surprisingly bug-free.

When it was over, at 11:30, we had a bit of a worry because everyone had told us that the show was over at 12:30 and that was when we had asked Rolando to come and get us. Everyone cleared out quickly, and we went outside and sat on the curb...down at the docks, in a deserted sort of area. We were just wondering what to do when Rolando came zipping up in his taxi. *whew*. He said he knew it wouldn't be over as late as 12:30, so he just took it upon himself to come early.

The fare was a whole $5.00...that was for BOTH ways and we were quite a ways away, so we gave him a huge tip.

He was very interesting to talk to. I had heard that most Cubans won't discuss politics if anyone else is around because there is still that fear of the Communist system and spies. We found that to be really true, when alone, they told us all sorts of things, but when anyone else, even a co-worker is nearby, they claim that they are happy and that politics don't interest them.

Looking up at the stars...and hoping it wouldn't rain.

Real "jazz hands".