casi completamente ficción (introducción)

He had come to Cuba for work, not by choice. In fact he had tried damned hard to talk his employer out of the whole thing. But the talking did no good so here he was in Cuba. Not even Habana, where he had stayed the night before, but on a bus to wherevethefuck middle of the country to a meeting at some agricultural university. His Spanish was bad and everyone else’s English was bad and it was already seeming to him that this was going to be a real bad trip.

The hotel where he stayed in Habana was supposedly the nicest in the city, but its shabby worn-out elegance seemed stuck in the 1950s, like the classic cars that filled the streets and seemed more often to have their hoods open than closed. By the time he had arrived in the country, it was too late to explore the area so he ordered a mojito from the patio bar and watched the guests who were attending a wedding with loud music. Then he went up to his room and lay in bed, listening to the loud wedding party until midnight when just like that the music stopped and he could sleep. The next morning he awoke, got his things together and boarded this bus to whereverthefuck he was headed.

He looked at of the window of the bus for most of the ride even though there was nothing in particular to see. Cuba was flat and green and full of cows and dotted with palm trees which he never liked because it always seemed to him that they were trying too hard to look “exotic” but at least they always reminded you that you were someplace different. The highway they followed was flat and straight and empty and paved with cracked concrete that reminded him of an old schoolyard basketball court more than proper pavement for a proper highway. From time to time he would put his head against the window and sleep for what felt like a long time but every time he woke up the bus was still someplace that looked exactly the same.

The bus stopped for lunch but he didn’t eat because airplane travel always gave him an upset stomach for exactly one day afterwards which was an inconvenience but at least it was always it was expected and he always knew exactly how long it would last. Instead of eating he sipped a Coca-Cola and walked around looking at the little zoo they had built there for tourists. They had different birds and an iguana and even a crocodile. There were some big rodents that looked a little like beavers that he couldn’t remember the English word for and a turkey who sat surrounded by guinea pigs and bunnies in a way that made it look like she had adopted them. He thought this was funny and took a picture. When he had seen all of the animals he walked over to the restaurant and stood off to the side and listened to some fine music played by a fine little band. He decided that they were probably not playing authentic Cuban music, just music for tourists, but he heard two songs he recognized and this made him feel good.