My Rum Diary – Part Two

By Mandy DelVecchio

So there we were, 7 days into our Cuban adventure, 6 nights of rum drinking under our belt and yet still plagued by the distasteful and seemingly antisocial ‘rum face'. Something had to give.

Week two, after a grueling 19-hour train ride, we landed on the shores of the colourful and historical Caribbean city of Santiago de Cuba. Having made contact with our host and with the knowledge that later in the evening we would be attending a street fiesta – which would of course involve rum, my compadres and I decided then and there that we would not leave the casa until we had removed our rum face.

We bought a bottle of the local rum – which was an even finer drop than Havana Club, made our way to the rooftop of the casa we were staying in, where we set up 3 deck chairs and began to pass the bottle. The evening was thick and balmy and the mood was light. One swig after another my sister, my best mate and myself consumed the bottle of rum, each time attempting a smoother passage than the previous. We didn’t stop drinking until we were certain we’d accomplished our mission.

Perhaps it was the practice, perhaps it was our cheerleading or perhaps it was the fact that by the end we were so completely blotto, we couldn’t feel a thing. I can’t be too sure. But whatever it was, I am sure of one thing – on that rooftop that steamy night, we sipped and slugged and slurped, suave, suave, until we’d exorcised our rum face.

For the following 21 days we drank like pirates, we danced like Cubans and we never again screwed up our faces. Affectionately named the three hermanas cubana, our rum drinking had gained us the rites of passage and we became honorary citizens. Salut!

                                                                ...


Needless to say since then I have acquired a taste for rum. However, nothing this side of the planet has even come close to experience we shared on that little island they call the ‘Pearl of the Caribbean’…

That was until one evening recently in Melbourne. It was a warm night and the three of us had gotten together for a drink. After a few beers, and a wander through Fitzroy, we stumbled across Los Barbudos –an oasis amongst the northside hipster conventionality.

A dimly lit bar at the city end of Smith Street, Los Barbudos – named after Fidel Castro's beloved baseball team, has managed to capture the essence of Cuba. More importantly Los Barbudos has managed to capture the essence of drinking rum! Their cocktail list is amazing and every one featuring the juice of Cuba. Fortunately one does not have to exorcise their rum face before downing any of these masterpieces, as they are deliciously easy to drink.

So what happened when the three hermanas cubana found Los Barbudos? They sat in the dark and drank their weekly wage in Papa Hemingway Dacquiris. And while reminiscing over the trip of a lifetime, many a face was screwed!