Cuba

We knew the food was going to be bad, ok? Everyone said, oooh, Cuba, great beaches, shit food. No worries, dude, I can survive on salad, my secret supply of roasted almonds, rum and cigars. We went to flake out on the gorgeous beach, sleep 10 hours a night, and generally not give a crap about the world for a few days. It was a wonderful trip.

But oh man, the food. It ranged from fairly good (Cuban black beans and shredded beef) to bizarre (smoked fish-pea-mayonnaise salad) to bad (pasta coated in something pasty... cornstarch?) to scary (marinated mussels at room temp in a 3-hr buffet) to oh honey no, please, no, please (a pork chop destroyed by an unidentifiable sauce and cold days-old soggy spring rolls).

Thankfully, there was decent ham, cheese and tiny buns, and we lived on this miraculous trinity of International Foods That Save the Day -- for breakfast with great coffee, for supper after running out of the pork chop-wet spring roll debacle, even at the airport while our flight was delayed.



(But speaking of oh honey, no, what's up with resort-stayers bringing their own oversized travel mugs to fill up with free mojitos? There is something about the all-u-can-eat/drink resort that brings out the primitive gimme-gimme in people. Yikes!)