Cuban nightmares

Yeah yeah yeah, it's been a while.

So for those following with a keen eye, today was the cup final. The less said the better, as we were losing 2-0 when the match was abondoned in the 55th minute as our captain broke his fibula, ruptured his ligaments and dislocated his ankle. I will have nightmares about looking at it for a long long time.

My afternoon was slightly more pleasant, spent showing my buddy Zac around town, culminating in whisky and cuban cigars outside a pub in Rose Street. Nothing particularly abnormal about that, until we spied a group of guys starting to chat up a bunch of women on a hen weekend in the pub opposite. Again, nothing particularly unusal, until after further spying, we spotted one guy wearing ski boots.

They were indeed a random bunch, some in surf wear, others in public school attire, and were also chaperoned by a small cocker spaniel (no doubt to keep the ladies' interest). All was quite pleasant, until one chap decided to impress the women by drinking a pint by pouring it into his mouth from a distance of one foot above his motuh. The next guy decided to go one further and drank thirstily from his sweaty ski boot. What shenannigans. And the whisky was beautiful. Shame my throat is now more sensitive than the East/West Berlin border (I watched The Lives Of Others last night).

I'm gonna miss this town.