Back in the streets of Bogotá Harry told me a better joke. Looking around the street he asked me, "Ryan, you know where I can find a veterinarian? "
"Nah, Harry, wadda ya need a vet for?"
Flexing his arms in front of us he shrieks, "Cause these pythons are sick!!"
Classic.

Carly also told me a good one recently. Why couldn’t the lifeguard save the hippy? Cause he was way too far out, man!!

So now I’m in Cuba and, more importantly, with my family. Mark, Meghan’s boyfriend, asked me if I changed over the last year on the road. I said yeah, but then had trouble discerning any way I actually did. After a few short days with the family it seems obvious that maturity is a category in which I haven’t changed so much. No sir. I know this by how much I still love patting the Tone-man’s belly. I really do. His annoyed reactions always make it worth it. When all’s said and done I figure I haven’t matured much over the last year so much as realized how immature I really am. That’s a step though, right? ....right? Although, as I keep finding out, his best friends and colleagues also enjoy teasing the ol’ man, so I’m not gonna hold it against myself.

Anywho, planning to meet the family in our hotel, I arrived in Havana all by myself. I found out quickly that the Cubans could give the Chileans a run for their money for the most bastardized version of Spanish. Well, the Chileans would easily win, but this island has done a commendable job in making it indiscernible for ol’ Ryan. They sounds like slack-jawed Spanish on speed who have a vendetta against pronouncing the letter S. Nevertheless, a tour guide I met on my bus to Verodero (Cuba’s Cancun) assures me that Cuban Spanish is of great quality. Who am I to argue?

Being Canadian, not Cuban, I was given only one option for the 2 ½ hour trip from the airport to the hotel – a $40 bus ride. I soiled myself right then and there as Harry’s joke echoed through my head. That’s a two days worth of spending you know! Sniffle, sniffle.

Today the family went on a catamaran tour to Play Blanca. I was keen as to come along since we got to kiss some dolphins at the end. Not quite the same as cute girls, but it was fine in its own right. And I’ll be damned, I never would have thought it, but dolphins make me just as bashful as a high school boy taking to his crush. Now, due to dolphin anatomy –no lips– the kiss ends up being a gentle nudge on the cheek. Sometimes more of a head-butt. But you never get mad at the them for that because you know kissing has never been a part of their culture, despite what impressions cartoons may have given you. Anywho, getting head-butted by a dolphin truly was beautiful. If a more sensitive Ryan existed, he would have cried. Thank god, cause less sensitive Ryan would have mocked him, only making things worse.

Just to satisfy your curiosity, dolphins feel just like those rubber balls with silly faces that you find in WalMart. The kind that are too light to throw well, so are really only fun if you’re under 6. And they’re equally as squishy, too.

written by  ryanmyers on December 12, 2009 from Varadero, Cuba
from the travel blog: Ryan's First Sabbatical
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