My gay Guantanamero in Havana, Cuba

Getting a good worker in the “workers paradise”

By Suzy Size, your gay guide through Cuba and Central America

Dear comrade Connie,

the longer I stayed in Havana, the less I liked what I saw. I mentioned the horrible food, the constant dog shit and the ridiculous public transport system before. Add the systemic inability to provide – this is such a simple thing in any normal country! - a constant flow of beer supplies to state owned hotels or restaurants. More and more I hated all those revolutionary minded beggars that constantly want to shake your hand, call you amigo, but just want a buck.

I also started to hate some of my fellow tourists who were constantly smoking cigars, drinking Cuba-libres, posing as revolutionaries. One jerk I observed every day at the terrace of Hotel Colina was smoking cigars all day, constantly drinking rum on the rocks and shaking hands in that manly, revolutionary way with every idiot that walked by and wanted money. He reminded me – physically and in his phony leftist attitude – of a well known Zurich psychiatrist and writer. He was married, had children, but was a closet queen and fucked with my then boyfriend in the late seventies.

No, Miss Connie, I am not jealous, I just do not like that gap between public appearance – that leftist rhetoric – and the closet reality.

There are so many impressive buildings all over Havana, but only a small minority of them are properly maintained or restored. The majority is falling apart and many of the architectural marbles are even beyond repair. The whole political and social system is a mess and the revolutionary rhetoric you encounter everywhere is outright laughable.

I am glad, Miss Connie, I have seen Havana in the last stage of the Castro regime, but I have no desire to return there again soon, certainly not as long as that idiotic political system is still in place.

I loved some of the gay Cuban men, I met and I loved the excellent music I heard at the terrace of Hotel Inglaterra and at the Sofia restaurant near my great casa particular. And, yes, Greta Alvarez was not shocked at all when I took my Guantanamero there – on the contrary, she seemed to be relieved not to have to deal with female whores - and can thus be labeled as gay friendly. I had met Johanesides, a 26 years old construction worker, at the same gay Havana cruisy hotspot, that park opposite the Hotel Inglaterra, but I was first hesitant to take him home with me.

For one I was still looking for my heaven sent Cielo, but then Johanesides smiled at me so sweet and was thus revealing the most charming tooth gap between his lower front fangs…

I just had to have him.

And he was from Guantanamo, I had finally found my Guantanamero!

That is all I have to tell you, dear, dear Miss Connie.

Hope to see you in Thailand quite soon.