Following the trail of Hemingway in Cuba

That Roly, owner of the casa particular where I’m staying in Old Havana, speaks only three words of English could be problematic. My Spanish is mucho bad and my husband’s no better. And yet, we get along just fine. Perhaps it is because two of the three words Roly knows are daiquiri and mojito—and, really,Continue reading “Following the trail of Hemingway in Cuba”