our bottoms they either flunked biology or my bladder gave up. Eventually
they wound us back in for a dry landing on the boat. What a rush.
We spent the rest of the day at the Southernmost House so called because
when it was built it was the southernmost house before you reached the sea-
though today there are houses beyond it. The house was built in 1885 by
Eduardo H. Gato Jr., a Cuban cigar maker and is now run as a very exclusive
guesthouse. Fortunately it is also open to the public as a sort of
museum/visitor attraction. Before we went in we walked to the southern most
point of America, where a huge buoy provides the background for photo
opportunities. In the distance you can see Cuba, provided that is that it is not
cloudy as it inevitably was for us. Having brushed Peter off two nights before
this was the closest we would get to the land of cigars and communism.
A visit to the Southernmost House, entrance $7 each when we were
there, included a tour of the museum, a cocktail, and all day use of the
beautiful pool and surrounding decking. We had been recommended it as a
well kept secret frequented by locals more than tourists and it was certainly
not crowded. Apparently lots of people visit just to use the pool, but we
decided to do the museum too seeing as we had paid for it.
The museum was largely housed in two rooms and the focal point was
the complete collection of signatures of the American presidents. All but one
of these was displayed - Bill Clinton's was in a drawer. Our guide also pointed
out Hemingway memorabilia, Tiffany glass and played a gramophone cylinder
on a 100-year-old machine. The curator in me died at this act, especially as
he did not even wear gloves. However, the rest of me joined Emma for a nice