I was having a little reminisce recently with my Mama about what she thinks was not only one of her best ever travel experiences, but also sadly she thinks maybe one of her last.
She has multiple sclerosis, which I’ve kinda touched on before, and as the years go by the idea of long plane journeys are less and less appealing to her.
A few years ago – PP (Pre-Progeny), I entered a short film competition called the The 48 Hour Film Comp….as the name would suggest you make a film in a weekend.
Friday night you get your genre, a character and a line of dialogue, and Sunday night you deliver a 5-7 minute short film.
Anyway, I tell you this not because finishing that damned film with only seconds to spare, sand paper eyes hanging out of my head on stalks, was one of the greatest achievements of my life, but because my team won the NSW round.
I know, right?
It gets better. Stay with…..
When they handed out the prize of a free trip to Miami, Florida, I was the only one that could utilise that sweet, sweet free aeroplane ride to joy.
Me at the Miami Film Festival, in my new hat.
I was super excited to go to the Miami Film Festival, of course, but I was even more excited at the thought of being so close to Cuba.
A place that had always intrigued and excited me.
I told my Mama of my idea of jumping the ditch between the States and Cuba and she was rather keen to join me on a mother-daughter-transcontinental-adventure.
Miami was way cool.
Seeing my film on the big screen up against the rest of the world was an eye opener.
I’m not going to say anything bad about our little movie. It was very art-house, my curtain call acting performance (not Oscar nominated), and it won me a ticket – so it was BRILLIANT!
However, the top 3 films were astoundingly, gobsmackingly fabulous and I did feel a tad like the country mouse.
I’m not here to talk about my almost, but not quite, illustrious film career.
I’m talking about Cuba.
In Cuba people are joyous.
Great big smiles split faces. You are greeted like family by people you’ve never met, and eyes twinkle with deep joy.
Not like freaky, maniacal psychopaths, but like people whose joy bubbles from within and bursts forth from them in a fountain of tumbling sound.
There is music and dancing everywhere. They are not generally rich in monetary terms, but in the food of the soul – music – they’re millionaires.
It’s in their veins. It’s in their viscera.
They take time to chill.
They don’t siesta per se, which I think is a trés civilised custom for people who like to nap (or indulge in afternoon carnal delights), but they sure do know how to relax.
Just chillaxing with my buds…
In the afternoons they sit around on crates and shoot the breeze in the shade, and play music and laugh with their friends.
There is no rush. No hurry.
They wear brightly coloured clothing, which is always a trend close to my heart with my über passion for brights mixed with brights.
While I was there I was joyous, and carefree.
Sure, I had no kids, bugger all responsibilities and I was on holidays, but that’s a minor detail that we can wrap up as mere semantics.
I was exploratory and saw wonder everywhere and I was open to new things.
There was also very cool cars cruising around which adds to the sheer style of the place.
My life was filled with music and I danced.
And there was rum. And wine.
And my Mama Bear who is one of the greatest women to ever walk, now wheel, on this planet.
And life was good.
I’m not one for New Years Resolutions. I have been in the past, but I never really keep them because I forget by about January 2nd.
This year I’m already fit and healthy.
I don’t smoke, I sure don’t intend on cutting down my drinking, swearing or wanking, so obviously the only resolution left is about becoming Cuban.
I’m also not waiting for the New Year, I’m going to start today.
I’m going to listen to more music, and dance. In the lounge, in other people’s lounges….
It’s about the letting go and just being in your skin.
I’m going to see more joy around me and focus on what’s great… And laugh because I can’t contain my joy.
I’ll buy a bottle of rum, for good measure, and whether I’m sipping a quiet one, or just going about my day, I’ll try to remember that happiness is a choice.
Ditch the shit that doesn’t serve you, and relish in the shit that does.
I’ll reckon I’ll skip the Cuban cigars though.
No one takes up smoking for a New Years resolution, do they?
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