I was just a passerby in Cuba.  I found myself in a beach not very far away from La Habana, the air thick with moist and the sun burned on my skin.  People mingled along the seawalk.  Back and forth, it seemed to me they were not really going anywhere; but it wasn’t sunday.  Neither was I, but I was just a passer by and a hungry one at that moment.  There was a small place about two hundred meters across the road from where I was standing, so I walked some more to find out if there was any traditional food I could get my hands on.  

Frankfurter read the sign.  Ahhh, I haven’t had a good one in some time, why not?  I approached the bar, shaded by the palm trees and bushes, and looked into the kitchen.  Small place, a fridge with drinks, and a frankfurter machine.  The bread lay on the counter between the fridge and the frankfurter machine.  A big chap, white addidas shorts, havaiannas and some kind of surfer t-shirt sat reading a magazine, a smile on his face told me that he would not start to take my order unless I waved or cried for attention.  But I was wrong, he looked up and said “Un minuto hermano que esta geba me ha alegrado el dia.”, “Se te nota en la sonrisa” y replied with a smile.

 

“Que le gustaria hoy?”

“Un Frankfurter y una coca por favor.”

“Enseguida.  Caluroso hoy.”

“Si, pega el sol.”

A few moments after a scilence, he handed over the frankfurter and said:

“Condimentos?”

“Ketchup y mostaza por favor.”

“Sirvase”

“Gracias”

“Gustaria un sorbete?”

“Como es tu nombre?”

“Fidel.”

“Ah, el mio tambien.”

“Que barbaro… sorbete?”

“… No.”

The guy was awfuly kind to me, but so was everybody else in Latin Amercia.  

 

I munched my Frankfurter.  To my surprise it was an original Frankfurter, none of that latin-american crap.  The one and only Frankfurter.  Odd to find foreign things in a country like Cuba, you know, communist country, a threatening country to the world trade.  But i did not care about what the political situation was at the moment, to me, everybody is the same in the eyes of god.  Not in my eyes of course, I would never consider myself divine.  But everybody is good in my eyes, good hearted.

 

I turned my back to the bar and looked out into the sea while I had my Frankfurter.  I can never stop to be amazed by the endlesness of it, and the uniqueness to, every sea or ocean is different, feels different.  It was a moment to remember.  Being satisfied with my meal I had a sip of my Coke and turned back to the bar.  Fidel was back to his magazine.  I wanted to pay for my food and take a walk.  The side of my eye got a glips at the price list stuck on the bar.  It read:

Frankfurter: €200
Coca-Cola: €150

“Cuanto es Fidel?”

“€ 200 por el Frankfurter y € 150 por la coca Fidel”

“Comooo..?!!”

“€ 350 en total.”

“€.?!!”

“Si”

I looked again at the price list and realized this was no joke.  How could I ever afford that, how the hell was I going to pay for that, all I had on me were thirty five bucks.  I felt so stupid, spending that kind of money on a Frankfurter and a Coke.  

“Pero Fidel, no puedo pagar eso..!”

“Bueno, no te preocupes, no hace falta que lo pagues ahora, te puedes quedar un rato mas chico y lo pagas mas tarde.”

“Bueno, supongo que si.”

 

 
So I sat and looked at the sea and waited.  During this time, my mind went as fast as it could.

 

 

Tagged cuba, frankfurter, story

§ One Response to Frankfurter and Cuba.

• Zoomobype says:

  April 21, 2009 at 06:16

  Hi Man!, please, help me.
  How long does champagne keep for?

  Thenk you. I am vaiting for answer!!!