Cuba is like a prince in a poor man’s coat: behind the sometimes-shabby facades, gold dust lingers. It’s these rich dichotomies that make travel here the exciting, exhilarating roller-coaster ride it is. Trapped in a time warp and reeling from an economic embargo that has grated for more than half a century, this is a country where you can wave goodbye to Western certainties and expect the unexpected. If Cuba were a book, it would be James Joyce’s Ulysses: layered, hard to grasp, serially misunderstood, but – above all – a classic.
Lonely Planet Guide to Cuba.
The problem with a country like Cuba is that you think you know all about the place before you even arrive. Over the years I have seen so many ‘classic’ photographs of the country, heard so much about it, and met to so many people who have been there; indeed I even had reservations about actually going; perhaps it would be a huge anti-climax? As it turned out Cuba was everything I imagined and nothing like I imagined.
I began to realise what might lie ahead when I arrived at Cancun Airport (Mexico). It started when I spotted the alarming number of cardboard boxes being checked in; TV’s, computers, food blenders; like the conveyor belt on The Generation Game, the list went on. The final realisation was when I saw the number of people checking in cartons of toilet roll!
The 1-hour 24-minutes flight with AEROMEXICO was straightforward enough, as was the immigration process – at Havana airport. As I walked into the arrivals lounge I was greeted by a middle-aged lady who held my name up on a hand written A4 piece of white paper, something that never normally happens when I arrive at an airport! So how did this all come about?
Travelling is always more about the people you meet than the places you visit. One afternoon, at my hostel in Campeche (Mexico), I met an Australian couple that had just returned from Cuba. I was keen to quiz them about their visit. It was the same story as everybody else. “ Wow, what an amazing country”. They waxed lyrical about their visit and finally gave me a contact name for a B&B (‘Casa Particular’) in Havana – Casa Mary. “Drop her an email, she’ll sort you out”, they said.
And sort me out she did. During our numerous email exchanges, over a period of two weeks, my visit to Cuba slowly started to take shape. Mary did not have availability but she knew someone who did – a recurring theme throughout my journey in Cuba.
The taxi from the airport, to the centre of Havana, which Mary had incidentally organised, took around 40 minutes. My first glimpse of Cuba, and what an eye opener it was.
Next stage: The smell of cheap petrol, a delightful 80-year old lady, and a walk through ‘La Havana’.
My theoretical route in Cuba.
