For the first time in our lives, my husband and I have taken separate vacations. He’d been longing for Havana. I really, really wanted to stay in Canada. So that’s what we did. I visited Calgary, and he began his grand adventure of a holiday on the cheap in Cuba. Though, not so cheap anymore. However.
I never realized how uncertain I’d feel about him on his own, so far away. Would he get lost? Robbed? Lose his passport? Goof around with the wrong government official and end up in prison? Anything seemed possible. My anxious texts became appropriate for a kid at camp. Are the Cubans nice? Are you making friends? Mother stuff. Or wife stuff, if you’ve put in enough time.
He can only text me, because we are not rich enough for the other kind of plan. And Clarence is, to put it politely, a little bizarre in his linguistics. His texts look like infomercials written by people who don’t speak English. Lots of happy faces and other emoji s. The first few days, he kept repeating, HELLO! IS ANYONE THERE! Like he was stranded on the moon.
The texting continued. FOOD GOOD! DANCING WITH BAND IN STREET! NICE CONGO PLAYER! BAD TAXI! RAINING MY COAT!
It’s like he’s shouting, but with a strong accent and an inability to find the right words. The girls and I puzzled over each message like explorers deciphering ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics. We decided that it was raining a lot, and he was taking dancing lessons. And taxis.
Our daughter Michelle has joined him for his last week. It will be interesting to hear the news from her perspective. I’m not sure we’ll do the separate vacation thing again, but as long as he had fun, that’s the main thing. If not, I’ll be having a word with his camp Councillor.