It's a Small World After All and The Search for Cubanos

So, if you read my post from a couple days ago, you know that I flubbed and missed my flight off the Bataan, but I made it to GITMO the next day. I was supposed to fly out the next day on a NALO flight to Norfolk, so I knew if I wanted to eat a Cuban sandwich, that’d be my only chance.

My barracks are on the “Leeward” side of the base and all of the restaurants are on the “Windward” side. (It’s a 30-minute ferry ride between the different sides). I took the ferry from the ferry landing and immediately inquired about finding some Cuban cuisine. Unfortunately, nobody was able to help me out. I got a recommendation for the Bayview, which has a nightly Mongolian grill special most nights, so, without any better options, I made my way there.

The short ride on the shuttle bus provided a brief tour of the windward side and I eventually made my way to the Bayview. I poked around and though it did look tasty, Mongolian grilled food isn’t something I can’t get back home. (Heck, there’s a place right by where I live). They did have a nice O-club though, which I visited later.

I wandered around and found “The Jerk House” down the same street. Contrary to the name, the service was just fine. (har har) It’s a Caribbean place and it was pretty good. I ordered the combination dinner, which included jerk chicken, jerk ribs, beans and rice, cole slaw, a sauce, and johnny cakes. The meats were tender and well spiced. The beans and rice were plain, but good. The cole slaw provided a cooling contrast to the spicy jerk seasoning. The johnny cakes were good too. I was expecting something like corn bread, but it was a dense fried bread instead; the golf ball-sized bites were crispy on the outside and a dense crumb on the inside. The reminded me of Chinese fried donuts, only more dense (and not covered with sugar). Overall, dinner was good. It wasn’t the Cuban food I was looking for, but it was still satisfying.

I went back to my room and went to bed, falling asleep with my thoughts on my return home in my head.

This is where it got interesting/annoying.

The next morning, I called the hangar to find out about the NALO flights for the day. “Call back in 20 minutes,” said the Chief who answered the phone. “Ok,” I hung up. That was an impossible request though, because the entire leeward side of the island secured the power for maintenance on the generators from 0800-1700. Around 1030, I made my way to the hangar and was told to come back at 1430 to stand by for the 1630 flight to Norfolk. Sweet.

Phillips and I came back at 1200, because we had to check out of the lodging and found out that the C-130 flight had been delayed for 24 hours. Dang.

We headed back to the lodging and checked back in. (We were able to keep our original rooms). We decided to head to the windward side for lunch. We were both starving; neither of us had had breakfast. The guy at the front desk was also nice enough to tell us about the Cuban restaurant on the other side of the base. My dreams of a Cubano were still alive!

The “Cuban Club” was located in a pink building surrounded by mango treas. They had a prepared lunch special going on, but I ordered a cuban sandwich and fried plantains.

The plantains were delicious: crispy on the outside and just slightly sweet. The “Cuban sandwich” was tasty, but not a “real” cubano, at least not any kind that I’ve seen before. Sure, it had roast pork and ham, but it also had some weird things on it, like american cheese and ketchup. Yeah, ketchup. And no pickle!

Overall, I enjoyed my lunch, but I know I didn’t eat the sandwich I was jonesing for. Maybe I need to go to Miami. Oh well.

After that I got lost. Well, sort of. I jumped onto the next shuttle bus that pulled up, but noticed that it wasn’t stopping where I was expecting it to stop. Turns out it was heading to “Camp America.” I’m pretty sure that’s where the prison is. Either way, they wouldn’t let me on to that part of the base, so I had to wait at the gate until the shuttle came back through. I waited a minute and a golf cart pulled up being driven by MC3 Bliss! What a small world. (Bliss and I were on part of the public affairs team on USS Theodore Roosevelt’s most recent deployment). I had heard that she was on an IA to GITMO, but it was quite the coincidence that brought her to that gate. She offered me a ride (on the golf cart) to the Starbucks I was originally heading to.

So, GITMO has been fun, but I’m looking forward to getting back home. We’ll be stopping in Jacksonville on the way back, maybe they have cuban sandwiches there...