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:sacha mcmeeking memories by Sacha McMeeking SACHA MCMEEKING IS THE founder of Catalytic, a boutique consultancy providing catalytic expertise and services in strategy, government and stakeholder engagement, public policy, corporate social responsibility, social impact and Iwi and Maori development and governance. Recognised as an emerging New Zealand leader, she was the inaugural Fulbright Harkness Fellow in 2010. Formerly the General Manager of Strategy and Influence with Te Runanga o Ngai Tahu, she was responsible for leading the external affairs portfolio for the Iwi spanning government engagement, public policy, brand and reputation. M y Be s t M ea l My W or st Meal My best meal experience involves Fidel Castro, a crayfish and a turtle���it���s okay- no turtles were harmed in the making of this story! In 2007, my partner and I travelled to Cuba, which had been on my bucket list since I was 12 and discovered Che Guevara (yes, my first tween crush was on a long passed revolutionary). We arrived four days before Fidel Castro stepped down from the Presidency. The first stop was Havana where police officers dance in the streets to pulsing salsa, ageing classic American cars billow fumes as they run on ingeniously adapted Lada and tractor parts, and billboards everywhere commemorate the revolution. We made our way around the island, staying in people���s homes (Casa) as most tourists do in Cuba. Each Casa was stunning and the food unbelievable. Crayfish aplenty, fresh fruit, superb chocolate, strong coffee and sugar cane. In Santiago de Cuba the pinnacle was reached. Imagine the ambience of a rooftop, Caribbean sea breeze, tropical weather, bright stars, energising salsa and friendly pet turtle. Combine it with a home cooked threecourse meal with the person you love most in the world and a juicy crayfish as the centre-piece. That is my best meal. On route to Santiago de Cuba we visited Playa Giron, also known as the Bay of Pigs. We were travelling by rental car, a tiny silver bullet of a thing. We had spent a few hours on a six-lane motorway that was populated by us, the occasional goat or horse and massive bridges that functioned only to provide shade as the connecting roads were never built after Soviet funding dried up. We arrived in Playa Giron late in the day, planning to stay in a Casa that had been compellingly described in a tourist guide, only to discover that it had closed and none of the neighbours knew of any other Casa in the area. Facing homelessness for the night, we drove up the road to a state operated tourist resort. The resort offered a beautiful beach, with friendly dachshund crosses that appear to be the dog of choice in Cuba. We had a unit to ourselves, which despite being orange, still managed to feel like a military bunker but at least had the safest electrical wiring we had encountered so far. We headed over to the dining room feeling quite ravenous and with the taste of the feasts we had had in various Casa still lingering. We were met with overcooked, tepid cabbage and rice. I���ve been a student, living on rice for weeks on end, but there is truth to all the pithy sayings about expectations being important. 84 | www.h e rma gaz i n e . c o. n z