Northeast Gate Tour

Once a month, the Marines host a tour of the Northeast Gate which is the only legal crossing point between GTMO and Cuba.** We decided to take advantage of this tour along with about 50 other folks, filling two buses. Prior to the tour getting underway, we watched the morning "Call to Colors" in which the American flag is raised while the national anthem is played over loudspeakers.

The 15 minute drive to the Northeast Gate crosses salt flats once filled with over 50,000 land mines which have mostly been removed.

During the early 1950’s over 4,000 Cubans came through the gate to work on the base. However, with the Cuban revolution in 1959, things changed -- the U.S. banned entrance into Cuba and Castro cut off the labor supply of Cubans to the base.

Presently, just three Cuban men, all in their 80’s, arrive on the Cuban side at 6:00 a.m. daily, walk across, and work on the base. “Work” is loosely defined -- their main task is carrying retirement checks back across the border to those Cubans no longer working on the base.







This sign on the Cuban side of the gate may be translated two different ways:

"The Republic of Cuba - Free Country of America" or "The Republic of Cuba - Country Free of America."








In 1964, the Cuban government ordered the water supply to the base be cut off. This was in retaliation to the arrest of 36 Cubans who were found fishing illegally in Florida waters. When the water cut-off occurred, there were about 14 millions gallons of water in storage on the base. Strict rationing was initiated.

When accusations were made by the Cuban government that the base was stealing water from Cuba, the admiral at that time ordered that sections of water pipe be cut and permanently removed to disprove the allegation. (This is a photo of where the section of pipe was cut and removed.) To help the base become as self-sufficient as possible, a huge desalinization plant was dismantled in California and transported to GTMO. In six short months, the plant was de-constructed, transported, re-constructed, and operational on the base.





Our understanding is that a respectful relationship is currently in place between the Marine sentries and the Cuban guards throughout the 17 miles of existing fence line.

Opposite is a photo of a Cuban sentry outpost. You can see two guards, one who is looking at us through binoculars.

We have been informed that preparations are being made for the day that normalized relations resume between the U.S. and Cuba. It is expected at that time over 50,000 Cubans will cross the gate into the base.


**Approximately six to ten Cubans attempt a water crossing from Cuba to Florida every month. And about four to six Cubans try either by land or by water to get into the base.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Hope you all have a wonderful holiday! While we will be missing all of our family and friends at the table tomorrow, both Vince and I feel that we are richly blessed and highly favored. Enjoy your day!

Banana Rats and Bingo

The other morning I finally spotted a banana rat or hutia (hoo-TEE-uh) while I was walking Fergus. Hutia is the more politically correct term, while some folks just like the sound of “banana rat” which was definitely more alliterative in my title.

Hutias are moderately large rodents that inhabit the Caribbean islands. They can range in size from 8 inches to 2 feet long, and can weigh up to 15 pounds. They are mostly seen at night, and instead of burrowing in the ground, they use trees for their nests. Hutias, along with iguanas, are hunted for food in Cuba. Banana rats are given their name because their feces look like small versions of the fruit.

Anyway, I was excited to see one (the banana rat, that is) and he held nice and still for me while I took a few photos.

The other highlight of the same day was my first ever public bingo game. (No, I am not a closet bingo player -- the last time I played it was in elementary school.)

My friend, Hope, and I were lured to bingo night at the Windjammer by the $5,000 grand prize. Somebody has to win this and why couldn’t it be one of us? We both had this vision of going into a room with lots of old people casually marking their cards as numbers were called out.

But, no, we were likely the oldest players there (and just about the only Americans), and let me tell you, bingo has changed in the last....ahem....50 years. (I can’t believe I wrote that.) First, we had to fill out a form, declaring we would adhere to all the bingo rules and mark how many cards we wanted to purchase. What made the process more challenging was that a very nice young Jamaican man was trying to explain to us what we needed to do. We couldn’t understand anything he said -- we just nodded our heads politely and tried to look as if we understood.

The one thing I got from him was: “look at da monitor” and I had no idea what he was talking about. Anyway, we took our bingo sheets, our bingo markers, and found a table with some other folks who could speak English. Unfortunately, it was also their first night to play, so we wouldn’t get much help from them.

When it was time for us to start playing, we finally figured out what “look at da monitor” meant -- there was TV screens scattered around the gymnasium-sized room. The person selecting a ball with a number on it would first hold the ball in front of the camera connected to the monitors. So, you would see the number on the monitor BEFORE it was called out. (Maybe all of you already know all of this because you are seasoned bingo players. Sadly, I had to learn the hard way.) As soon as you saw the number, you were supposed to check your bingo sheets. Then, a few seconds later he could call out the number, but he was already holding the next number up to the camera. So, you would see one number, and hear another. This was most confusing to me.

Besides this, as I next learned, playing bingo isn’t a nice, relaxing game that involves getting five numbers in a row. No, it is much more complicated than that. As we started playing our first game, in our about five minutes I had actually had a line in which five in a row were nicely colored. I whispered to Hope, “I have a bingo -- what should I do?” She looked at me as if I were an idiot, and said, “Yell bingo, of course.”

So....I did. Yell. “Bingo!” And, the whole room got very quiet and everyone looked at me with appalled expressions and started hissing quite loudly something like: “NO NO NO....blackout.....NOOOOOO....”

This was not the result I expected and some bingo employees came running to our table. A very kind Filipino gentleman explained that it was a “blackout” game meaning all the numbers on a card had to blacked out before one could expect to pronounce a bingo.

Bingo suddenly didn’t seem quite so entertaining. At least, it wasn’t to me -- it was to everyone else in the room, however. So, the game resumed and I very quietly continued to mark my card, and thank goodness, somebody else won. (I was terrified that I would legally win and have to say the dreaded “bingo” again.)

After the blackout game, eight different games followed with each one having a different pattern to achieve on the bingo card. Arrows, diamonds, little brown jugs (not kidding) -- you had to achieve a different pattern for each game before you could declare bingo.

Every so often one of the bingo employees would casually stroll by our table and examine my card to see how I was doing. They kept a really close eye on me the rest of the night.

I was determined to not win -- and I didn’t.

(Hope is smiling because she wasn't the one to yell bingo at the wrong time.)

A Different World

Alas! I tried for two days to upload a brief (under 3 min.) video giving a birds-eye tour of the base, and the bandwidth is such here that I just am unable to get the video uploaded. So....here is the next best way to give you an idea of what the base is like.

Above is a map sold here on the base, and I have some markers for various points of interest.

The marker #1 on the left side of the bay - that is Leeward Air Field where Vince works. I've already mentioned that he needs to take either a ferry or u-boat (utility) to get to work -- it's about a 20 minutes ride across the bay.

On the right side, or windward side, is where most of the housing and services are located. At the bottom of the map, the marker #2 shows the beginning of our main street, Sherman Avenue, which goes north for about 6 miles. (The northernmost section of the map is the perimeter fence line - this is the boundary line, so to speak between the base and Cuba. I will have a later blog entry on our visit to the northeast gate.)

Most of our available services are located around marker #3. As far as amenities here, the Navy has really tried to make life as enjoyable as possible for those who can't leave the base (which describes most of us). Here is a short list:

• Movie theater - free, first-run movies every night of the week, in an outdoor setting
• Bowling alley
• Miniature golf
• Golf course - no charge to use
• Library
• Ceramics/pottery/wood shop - very reasonable prices
• Bingo - more on this later!
• Bike and boat rentals - (pontoons rent for $6 an hour)
• Two outdoor swimming pools - free
• Fitness classes - free
• Gyms with exercise equipment - free
• Dog exercise/training area
• Car wash - free
• One gas station (Note - we are still paying $4.50/gal. for gasoline -- the Navy buys fuel in contract periods, and we will continue to pay this price until all the gasoline is used and a new contract is procured.)

As far as restaurants go, not much selection is available -- a couple of sit-down places, some fast-food (McDonald's, Subway, Pizza Hut, KFC), and both a Jamaican and a Cuban eatery that are somewhat average. The Jamaican "Jerk House" is a carry-out place with a limited menu -- it has some strong competition from some Jamaicans that operate a small grill at the airport, and their food is excellent. The photo below shows the Jamaican chef at the airport.

The "Cuban Club" reportedly has a Cuban cook, but it seems to me that the food has been somewhat Americanized, and you might want to bring a pillow and blanket when you go there, because it is a VERY long wait for a simple meal (over an hour). The mess hall galleys (three on the base) are the best value for the money, since lunch and dinners, cafeteria-style, are $3.85 and are generally pretty good.




The only place to purchase food, clothes, hardware, electronics., etc., is the Nex, or Navy Exchange, (pictured at right) which is like a very small Super Wal-Mart. The prices are fairly comparable to back home -- no real bargains, except there is no sales tax. The Nex has certainly changed how I view shopping. Back home, I would go to three grocery stores to get everything on my list. Now, my list is comprised of whatever I can get at one store, and it really is a time-saver. You quickly learn to either do without, or just adjust your list.

The marker #4 shows where we live - Granadillo Point. There are 34 housing units just in our small neighborhood, and it's very much like a small town -- everyone knows everyone else's business. And, that is certainly not necessarily a negative. Just something for us to keep in mind!

There are about 20 different "neighborhoods" of housing on the base, and each one contains different types of abodes - single-family dwellings, apartments, duplexes, trailers, and four-plexes.


The feeling one gets here is truly of an American small town -- lots of friendly people, everybody waves at you, folks are willing to help you out. What is not so typical is the prevalence of Humvees loaded with weapons, soldiers and sailors everywhere you look, and lots of rules to follow (what the heck, there are rules no matter where you go). I certainly don't feel like I am in a foreign country -- the only exception is the huge population of folks from Jamaica, Phillipines and Puerto Rico who work here and send their wages back home. Most of them speak English, or a form of it, so there is usually not a language barrier, unless you are speaking on the phone, and then it can be problematic to understand what is being said.

There you have it -- sorry this is lengthy -- in my video that couldn't be uploaded, you would have been able to hear most of this instead of wading your way through a long entry.

A Fish Story

You simply cannot buy fresh fish here -- this just amazes me. Here we are, in a beautiful bay, right next to the ocean and the only way you can get fresh fish is (1) catch it yourself or (2) see Ramon. I've talked to a number of people here about acquiring fish and everyone says the same thing -- find Ramon and he will catch some for you.

Well, we haven't found Ramon yet (he likely hangs out with Captain Henry), but I was whining to a friend recently that I have been here six whole weeks and no fresh fish has yet appeared on my table. (And I will have to quickly add that Vince would love to go fishing but his schedule just hasn't allowed it recently) Over the weekend, the friend's husband called me to say that he had "shot" two fish for me. And, when he says shot, he means with a speargun. Both he and his wife are experienced scuba divers, and they routinely fish in this manner.

Our neighbor, Bob (not to be confused with his dog, who is also named Bob), was kind enough to filet the fish for us, since at the time Vince was at work.

One fish was a "cubera snapper" and the other is called a "permit" which was a new name to me. I was expecting something like the little trout you see in the grocery store, but these fish were both huge, and the snapper had teeth -- Vince says that is why it's called a snapper. Hmm....sounds logical to me. (That is Bob holding the snapper on the left.)




Here is the lovely permit. And, I will let you in on Bob's secret to fish photography -- hold the fish as far in front of you as you can. Makes any old fish look impressive. Although, these fish didn't need airbrushing techniques to improve their appearance -- they were both good-sized.

Sunday night we had two other couples join us for our fish feast -- I baked the snapper with onions, lemon slices, cherry tomatoes and some herbs, and a friend grilled the permit for us. (Vince was unable to stand yet due to his sciatica attack.) Well, let me tell you that the fish was fantastic -- especially the permit, which as strange as it sounds, tasted like chicken. No kidding.

Sunday morning

Sometimes a day just does not start as planned -- this morning, instead of Vince going to work, I had to take him to the emergency room at the hospital. As you can see in the photo, he is smiling and he is okay. But, he had a painful night -- due to sciatica which was the diagnosis.

Last night at work, there was an incoming plane that was several hours late, and consequently, there were over 150 people jammed on the utility boat coming back to this side of the bay. Vince was one of those 150 folks packed like sardines in the boat, and the doctor theorizes that the way he was sitting (hunched and a little crooked) along with what he was sitting on (a low bench) AND what he had in his back pocket (his wallet) all contributed to pinching the sciatic nerve.

Apparently sciatica is common among truckdrivers and they are advised to carry their wallets in their front pockets instead of their back pockets. (Who would have guessed this?)

The doctor asked Vince's permission to make the visit a "teaching" opportunity, so three young male medics came in to the examining area. I was able to sit there and observe the 30 minute session during which the doctor thoroughly poked and prodded Vince, all the while asking questions of his students. ("What are some of the questions you need to ask an incoming patient? What are the first three things you might look for?," etc.) I was wondering how far they were in their training, because some of the questions prompted me to almost raise my hand and say "I know! I know!" Thankfully, I held back and just kept my mouth shut.

Vince was given a prescription and released after three long hours. We were thankful that it wasn't something worse (the first official hospital patients at GTMO in the late 1800's were treated for yellow fever.) And, as I am writing this, Toto the Filipino physical therapist (I swear I am not making this up) made a house call and is giving Vince a therapeutic massage to help relax the nerve.

Never say never

If anyone had told me a couple of months ago that I would be buying (and wearing) a blouse from a thrift store with toucans on it, I would have told them they were nuts.

Tropical Storm Paloma

I don't think that Paloma will amount to much here at GTMO -- it appears that the main path will be farther north. That being said, we are still taking the required precautions such as buying food and water in the event the power goes out. (Postscript: I wrote this early Saturday a.m., and now by 3:00 p.m., it looks like Paloma is now a Category 4 Hurricane, so we might have a little more excitement than we thought.)

(NEW Postscript dated November 9: Paloma has passed us by -- Vince probably experienced the worst of it last night on the boat coming home about 10:30 -- he said that the waves were quite turbulent and everyone was really tossed around on the boat. Selfishly, I'm glad I missed that!!!)

Vince is working a day shift tomorrow and has already been advised that he and Boomer may be "stuck" on the other side of the bay if the base gets closed. So, he is taking extra clothes and food with him when he goes to work. When Vince first arrived here in early September, Hurricane Ike was just making its way across Cuba, and the base was closed for two days. When the commander closes the base, you are not to even leave your house.

We are fortunate -- since we live in the concrete bunkers we would not have to be evacuated to other housing as might happen to others. So, the worst might be that the base closes, Vince is on the other side of the bay, and Fergus and I are restricted to our quarters. I did buy a deck of cards so I will need to teach Fergus how to play rummy.

The photo above looks stormy, but was actually taken at sunrise about a week ago -- the rising sun cast a very interesting light on the mangrove swamp which prompted the photo. Mangroves are amazing trees -- they are able to live in salt water but exclude over 90% of the salt from their root system. They provide habitat for all kinds of marine life, while protecting shorelines from storms.

This particular area on the leeward side of the bay is also protected due to a population of manatees (which I haven't seen yet). Old folklore says that sailors long ago, who hadn't seen women for months, would see a manatee and optimistically think they were seeing a woman. Thus, the term mermaid (maiden of the sea) was launched, so to speak. Personally, I think the sailors just had consumed too much grog.

Dumpster Diving

One of the stranger facets of life in GTMO is that many things are not readily available that one would think would be. Things like grass seed, shoe polish that is not black or steel wool. If you ask a Jamaican who works at the Exchange if they carry some item you are likely to get a response like "Don't worry mon, it will get here soon" or maybe "It's on the barge". Supply barges arrive from the States twice a month but they have been out of grass seed for at least two months.

Larger more durable goods are often in short supply also. Take lamps for instance. The NEX furniture store carries three styles of lamps. Four if you count the boxed floor lamps that you have to put together. All are exceedingly ugly. The company I work under furnishes our quarters with used battered stuff that one would expect to find at a Goodwill shop. The lady who selects this stuff and delivers it to your quarters is known for behavior that might easily fit under the category of sociopath or unstable. It does no good to ask her for assistance as she is likely to label you as a trouble maker or fly into a fit of rage. She chose some used lamps for our quarters that were nice enough if you turn the shade just right so the holes are not visible. One of the lamps had a socket that was broken beyond repair and thus useless.

So we cope with these minor inconveniences by learning to dumpster dive. Every one who takes out the trash leaves their damaged but possibly useable items outside the dumpster for others to peruse. "Useable" takes on a new meaning here. Blue plastic barrels cut in half are highly prized as plant containers. I could make a fortune if I could figure out how to get a shipment of old whiskey barrels here. Old battered chairs with missing parts are snatched up. I was thrilled to come upon an old floor lamp that was missing the glass bowl that goes on top. I took my prize home and showed to Cathy with a grin on my face. Soon I was out on the patio carefully disassembling the corroded components. I tested the socket and then installed it into our broken table lamp. We now have a MATCHING SET of fairly nice looking lamps AND they work!

Over time you can actually see items resurface outside different dumpsters as folks fine tune their collection of "gently" used furniture. The only thing I see that nobody wants are used mattresses. They get so worn out that when a couple moves into their "furnished" home and try to sleep on lumps bumps and depressions they quickly go to the furniture store and buy new mattresses. Thank God that is one thing the NEX seems to stock consistently.