(maria sanchez)

who is my new friend maria sanchez you ask?    well,  she is the woman who i unfortunately (for her) wiped my bum with.     that’s right.     you waited all these weeks for a scintillating blog entry with tales from my most incredibly amazing,  culture filled,  politically provocative cuban adventures and the first story i tell is about what they use to wipe their asses with here.    well,   if you haven’t figured it out yet…..it’s the phone book.    if you are lucky enough to be a tourist here,  you can walk into any luxury hotel and sit yourself down on a clean toilet,  with a toilet seat and wipe yourself to your hearts’ content with as much toilet paper as you’d like.    but,  if you’re a cuban,   you’re cleaning your most precious parts with paper from the phone book.    or, sometimes  a newspaper if you’re in a house where they don’t have a phone.   so, there I was,  sweating like a pig (big surprise),   enjoying my very authentically cuban experience in the home of a  cuban friend when my biggest fear occurred – i had to use the bathroom.    not like,  oh i just had my first coffee and finished the paper in the morning kind of bm…..the kind that happens when you’ve just eaten a greasy piece of meat from pedro on the corner that was baking in the sun all day.    the irony of this story is that i don’t even eat meat here (especially not on the street)- i’m sure it happened to me because i am a neurotic freak,  terrified of being anywhere not fancy when i have to use a bathroom and have many times forced a self fulfilling prophecy to occur.    but let me tell you this ~ if you eat the greasy meat from pedro,  this WILL happen to you too.    so there i was,  sitting quietly,   thinking to myself “i love spanish but I have been sitting here for 6 hours and don’t understand a word these people are saying” when all of a sudden,  my phobia comes to life.   i start to sweat.    not sweat like,  oh it’s so hot in here kind of sweat,  no,  the kind that actually makes you shiver with cold.    “hmmmm” i thought to myself.    “this doesn’t feel right at all”.     so,  I waited.    and waited.    and prayed to the many saints on the wall above me that whatever was brewing in my tum was going to disappear.    “i haven’t been that bad?”  i pleaded to the lady dangling from the wall.   “i actually paid my taxes early this year!”   but no,  the saint of torturing foreigners with inopportune toilet experiences had other plans for  me.    what could i do?   i politely asked for the bathroom  and off i went.   what I found was a dirty toilet,  no seat and not a shred of toilet paper in sight,  cursing myself that this was the one time i hadn’t put kleenex in my bra for this very occasion,   i timidly asked if they had any paper?     they pointed to a bunch of ripped up paper that seemed to be the havana phone book,  pages M-S.    knowing i had only moments to spare,   i cautiously perched myself on the edge and in a cold (and also very hot) sweat, i conquered my biggest fear.   and then i wiped  my bum with maria sanchez.    and you know?    it wasn’t that bad.   i lived to tell the tale.    so,  gracias sra. sanchez,  take comfort in knowing that you played a pivotal role in bringing this neurotic jew girl to the next level of ‘bohemian’ that she always wished she could reach.

fact:   there is  actually a toilet  paper shortage in cuba at the moment.    and more importantly,  there is a food shortage too.   and electricity.    and  pretty much everything else too.    of course if you stay in a resort or hotel,  you’ll never see the hardships the local people face because anything good,  anything clean,  anything healthy goes to foreigners.    anything left over like rotting fruits and vegetables,   medication that’s expired,   medical equipment that doesn’t work, underwear made from socks…..well,  all that good stuff goes to the cubans.    don’t get me wrong,  i run into every luxury hotel I see to use their fancy bathrooms when i can but soon i think I may not even be able to do that.   because when i am having a really amazing air conditioned,  clean bathroom experience,  my cuban friends  are waiting for me on the sidewalk because they aren’t actually allowed to wait for me in the lobby.     sigh.    communism.

what’s next?    what other crazy cuban questions will I answer?

                        

• why in this country the bigger your ass is,  the better

…….and more!!