Christmas in Cuba

I want to go to Cuba.
Not the new Americanised Cuba of old, but the one Hemingway fell in love with.

Stunning colours and old American cars, small dark bars that smell of rich Cuban tobacco. Friendly faces and the sounds of children playing in the streets.

Beautiful tanned ladies with swinging hips and smiling eyes whose voices mesmerize you and take you far away. Makes you forget about your worries for a while and life seems nice.

So we have Cuban cigars, rum, beautiful people, music that moves you and food man oh man food cooked by a large hairy woman who grunts and mumbles to herself but cooks like an angel.

Sounds like a damn fine Christmas if you ask me, but something is missing, the one vital ingredient.

Family.

Family includes special friends.
If you have no-one to share it all with you may as well not celebrate it at all. Life is about sharing, be it love, sorrow, pain or joy.

Add all of the above together and you have memories. That's the best gift anyone could wish for this Christmas.

Good nite