Skaisti, suudabraalis joprojaam maak rakstiit ak jaa un galiigi nav mainiijies
THE SUN OF HAVANA

Ciego de Avila.

There was the usual crowd of pushy working girls already hanging just outside the cafe in the blazing afternoon sun, trying to woo the single male tourists.

I felt lucky I had not known any of them though many of them had spotted me before. I downed the rest of the mojito and the ice water in a beat and briskly walked out, turning the corner to avoid any encounters. Soon the mojito and the sun hit me and I began having random thoughts while wandering the already familiar streets and alleys of the decrepit Old Havana.

In the midst of my lightheaded rambling I caught sight of a stunningly beautiful girl. She wore a loose floral mini dress with shoulder straps and flip-flops. She had a delicate, slim figure with beautiful curves and smooth dark skin. She looked graceful, not at all like a working girl.

I had not yet seen such a beautiful girl in my whole life.

Next day I went for dinner in Casa de Margarita, the nice guesthouse in Vedado that I was staying in. I had the nicest room there with a private bath, a twin bed, ceiling fan, a small refrigerator and a little boom box.

In Restaurant I saw her again. She was wearing the same dress she wore that day. Her ample, cascading black hair flowed onto her shiny bare shoulders. She wore no makeup and her neat groomed eyebrows joined ever so slightly. Her round lips were full like a tulip bulb. Dark green eyes were joining her pure beauty.

I had to make conscious attempts to veer my eyes off her from time to time.

She was shy, pensive and reserved but she seemed to know that she was the special person for a special occasion.

So …after all… it was in my destiny to talk to her.

Her name was Azucena….

Up close she was even more radiant and captivating than when I had seen her from a distance.

I had to make conscious attempts to veer my eyes off her from time to time.

"Where are you from? Italiano?"
"No. I live in New York, and in some other places in the world"
"Nova Iorque ... el centro del mundo! ... Not your first time here?"
"No. I was here once over three years ago."
"Welcome back to communismo!"

And she smiled…

(Sun came out of the clouds in a rainy Riga day.
Worker got salary.
Customs officer made the stamp on the passport after long wait.
Plane arrived.
Mama opened the home door.
Propka ended in Moscow.
Kid got new shoes.)

That night after the restaurant was closed, we walked by the breezy and moonlit oceanfront Malecon drive and I got to have a few words with her.

"Would you like to see me tomorrow?" I asked.
"I don't know," she said shyly with her eyes downcast.
"Can I call you?"
"No."
"Why?"
"You are dangerous"
"Cmoon, I’m not. Why you think that from me"
"You are different"
"Sure I am, I am not Cuban"
"Not because of this..it is simply so"
"Thank you for all." That's all she said before heading back home

(It was again rain in Riga.
Worker was fired.
Customs officer was talking to his colleague instead of stamping the passports.
Plane was delayed.
Mama was death.
Propka took hours in Traverskaja.
Kid had no shoes.)

Next day. I anxiously stayed in until midnight and drank all the beer of Old Havana and there was no sign of her. Then I decided to visit the shabby local bar and get drunk on rum.

The day after, just before noon, a knock on my door woke me. The housemaid told me that a lady with the name Azucena wanted to come in to see me. When she arrived I was badly hangover.

She wore pink stonewashed jeans and a tight black hard rock T-shirt with a wide rip on the back and a large red kiss mark printed on the front. She also wore a hint of red lipstick.

She was a woman of many blushes and very few words. I could never guess what she was thinking but she looked somber and sad.

Suddenly she disappeared in the bathroom and took her time in the shower. When she reappeared she was naked. I looked at her silhouette.. Then silently she cuddled up next to me and rested her head on my chest for a while. I felt her warm silky touch for the first time. I held her for a bit and slowly began kissing her forehead, shoulder and lips. She had the sweet scent of my lavender soap. She was quiet and tender at first but then she became passionate.

Azucena was full of surprises

Later, she opened a can of beer from the mini refrigerator, lit one of my cigars and, as if I was not there, begun going through my things that were strewn around the room. I thought maybe she was looking for evidence of other women. She found my open backpack in the closet and carefully went through all its pockets and compartments. I did not have much to hide. As I lay in bed watching her she found my passport and stared at my picture and my name for some time. Then she found my wallet and carefully examined my bit of cash, travelers' checks and plastic cards.

"No pictures?" She asked.
"Sorry, I did not bring any."

Then she turned the light off, snuggled next to me in bed and, resting her head on my shoulder, drifted off.

When I woke up, Azucena was still asleep. Through the small window high above my bed another hot and bright day in Cuba poured in…