Day 4, Cienfuegos. Or: Outch

I woke up in a horrible pain. Where was I? What had happened? The smell, the heat, the uncomfortable mattress. I opened my eyes and looked around. Now it came back into my head. Rum. Music. Party. More rum. Julio. Oh no. I got out of the bed, it was ten in the morning. I felt horrible, but still I had breakfast, fruit only. They wouldn’t last long in my stomach, though. I remembered the last night. The crazy club. I had never seen something like that before. It was open air, we bought another bottle of rum with coke and ice. Everybody was sitting at tables and there was a huge stage. We also had little lottery papers which were handed to us at the entrance. The club was next to the beach (yes, there is also a tiny beach in Cienfuegos), and it was at the beginning like a comedy show. The moderator asked all tourists to raise their hands, so I did (there were not that many). And the host then approached me and dragged me to the stage where I had to show him how I could dance! I was embarrassed, still I did my best and went back to my seat then. Of course Julio had talked to the guy to tell him to pick me. After a whole acrobatic show, comedy things and the lottery, it was finally time to dance and everybody got up and started dancing to Cuban Reggaeton, or ‘el son cubano’. And yes, this was not like our European definition of dancing. It was literally crazy. This sensual, Latino style of dancing where the bodies are really close together and there is this tension made by the rhythm of the music and the moves of the dance partner. And yes, Julio did his thing. And as he said before that Europeans are horrible dancers, I wanted to try my best. So we danced. Really close, but I didn’t mind. I told him right at the beginning that I was taken and I knew that this kind of dancing was just normal here. A Cuban dad would dance with his daughter in the same way as the two of us did. I was having fun, I felt the alcohol and I admit that I was actually drunk. But hey. This was my holiday and my first actual party in Cuba. As I enjoyed the music and everything, all of a sudden, I felt a mouth on my lips. I was completely confused. Drunk-me was not fast enough to react. After a couple of seconds I pushed Julio away and quietly whispered ‘Quiero ir en mi casa’- I want to go home. He looked at me with his widely-opened eyes and nodded. We got to the taxi, he refused to let me drive home by myself. So we sat in the taxi, quietly. After a couple of failed attempts to open the door (I tried to open the door of another house…), I made it home.
So there I was, the next morning. I felt horrible. A) The hangover. B) I hated myself. I felt guilty. Why did I go out with a stranger? And of course. Cubans. Macho Latino guys. They don’t care about girls having boyfriends. Ridiculous. Plus, I felt guilty regarding my relationship. I trusted a strange guy and as a result, the guy kissed me. And there was nothing I could have done in this moment.
I felt horrible, and alone. So, I decided in this moment to call my boyfriend.
After a whole struggle, I went out into the sunny city centre, I managed to buy a $5CUC phone card at Etecsa. I left Etecsa and went on the streets to look for a telephone I could use. And there he was, Julio. Cienfuegos really is a small city. But really? He looked at me, confused. And the only thing I said was ‘I need to call.’ So, without any ado, he helped me to look for a telephone and he dialled the numbers (you need to dial some extra numbers before dialling the actual one). The phone call was ridiculous. Not even three minutes, we just said hi to each other and in the middle of the sentence, a peep tone. And then, he was gone.
I couldn’t hold my tears back and I startephoto (1)d crying. Julio was standing there and he hugged me. No matter how furious I was at him, I did not refuse. I just cried and he asked me what was wrong. I told him that I just needed to be in my room for this day. To get a clear head. And to get over my melancholy. So, I spent the whole day at home, sleeping and reading. But then, I started to get hungry in the evening and I had to leave the apartment in order to look for food. Before that, I wanted to walk a bit next to the sea and write my postcards. And again, Cienfuegos is a tiny city! So, who was there? Julio of course. Although I told him that I really wanted to be alone, he insisted on talking to me. He apologized 10000-times and he said that it was just in the genes of Cubans to get closer while dancing and to kiss. I thought about it for a bit… And then I said that it was ok as long as he would not try to kiss me, or touch me again.
And even though I agreed to hang out with him the next day, I was sure that I could not trust him. Could I ever trust any Cuban again after this?


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