Back in town, above the door of the Bodeguita del Medio, hangs a stained sign which reads ‘My mojito in La Bodeguita. My daiquiri in El Floridita. Ernest Hemingway’ and the tourists congregate to drink the overpriced drinks. The food is standard fare but the vegetarians among us had fried bananas along with the black beans and rice and the walls are lined with interesting photographs and the atmosphere is lively. I read and relished his spare and powerful prose avidly a long time ago. It solicited the heat of the sun and love, passion without discussion. His house is a animal sanctuary and has a dog cemetery and this love of canines and felines is as always hard to reconcile with his hunting of big game. For Hemingway and many others wild beasts are there to be conquered, or shot and stuffed. And of course he liked to rip creatures from the sea. Steven Berkoff wrote a beautiful poem “Big Game Fishing’ as ‘anindictment those who boast of ending the lives of beautiful creatures’.