Cuba calls

My last day in MeHico. With a belly still digesting the lobster flambe from last night, I gathered my things for the Cubana Airlines flight I still didn't know was going to be on time or cancelled altogether. Given their reputation, I'd safely assumed one of the two. Since I had no easy access to internet, and when I did try I couldn't seem to access my booking (even more worrying), I could only hope it was all going to be OK. 

I got the bus to the airport, with a spare seat next to me taken at the very last moment by a strung-out Canadian backpacker who started conversation with me as soon as she sat down. Only it wasn't normal conversation - her first piece of worldly information came in response to the fact I was Australian. "I had the most AMAZING sex with an Australian guy the other night!" Geez… thanks. 

And it continued… I learnt how many drugs she was still processing in her body from the however many days she'd been partying with random artesans, how she hadn't paid for a hostel room for a while and just crashed on people's floors (what a charmer), how she didn't know if she was going to get through customs because she was so fucked… I tried to close my eyes to indicate sleep was preferable, but she didn't seem to notice.

Then it all went quiet. She was passed out. Only problem was, she was on the aisle side of the seats. And I was busting for the loo. Eventually I had to cave and nudged her awake, asking if she minded if I went to the toilet. She just smiled and went back to sleep. Level of annoyance just reached fever pitch. I sat there, not really wanting her awake next to me, and just held on. At the airport, I grabbed my bag and ran to the bathroom. Ahh, sweet relief! And no one to tip. Double bonus.

First things first, how late was my flight running? Hmm… only 3 hours, OK then. Now for my Cuban visa - this was a point of contention, as my work gives advice to pre-purchase a visa for $120 but everywhere else on the internet said you could pick one up from Cancun airport for $50. I chose to risk it and was rewarded - 30 seconds and $25 later, I was a proud holder of a Cuban visa. I even took a photo to prove it.

The flight wasn't just delayed 3 hours, in the end it was about 6 hours, and so when I finally boarded I was sleepy from dozing on and off at the airport. I'd spent my time eating in Bubba Gump because it was showing Forrest Gump in English, although when Celine Dion's All By Myself cuts in, it really cuts in. Deep. Yep, I'm all by myself, thanks Celine. 

It took forever to board the plane, delay after delay, and we ended up landing at dark, a shame since I hadn't booked any accommodation and had planned to wander around in the afternoon getting my bearings before deciding where I wanted to stay. Now, with the darkness folding in around me, I had some anxiety about where exactly I should sleep tonight.

Execution decision made - I was to book somewhere close to the fancy start hotel of my tour. A lady found me a $30 cassia - half house, half hostel - and I found a couple of tourists to share a cab into town, since the only bus that serviced the airport only took non-convertible pesos and tourists were only supplied convertible pesos. The convenient way Cuba sorts the locals from the tourists.

In the cab (not a vintage car as expected, bit of a letdown) was myself, a New Zealander about to go on a tour with the same company as me (but a different tour) and an American, who I quizzed about his entry rules for Cuba (of which there is one - DO NOT ENTER). After waiting AN AGE in line, the passport controllers didn't even stamp my passport, a shame as I will never have evidence I was in Cuba, but good in case it caused any further immigration problems for me. As it is, my passport is almost full, must get a new one within the year.

I was the last to be dropped off, the others in the cab were more than generous so I paid just a few dollars (pesos) for the ride. My place, a far cry from their 5-star hotels of the others, was down a dark street with some locals wandering about outside, some piles of rubble and bricks outside the door which was just like the rest of the street - no actual sign that this was a hotel. Thankfully, the owner was waiting outside and helped me in.

The wife of the couple that owned the hostel showed me my room, speaking in decent English before I said I was trying to learn Spanish and then continued on in native tongue. She got to the part about the guys picking up foreign girls, taking them to bed then asking them for money - I thought I was misunderstanding her Spanish but then she repeated it in English. How odd, I thought. But it's just the way it is here, she explained, and therefore no one is allowed to be brought up to the room. Fine with me, sounds too bloody complicated anyway!

I freshened up and went for a walk to check out my new 'hood, having been told by "Emmie" that it was quite a safe city. Nonetheless, I took only the bare essentials and kept my wits about me. I put on my new pretty Mexican dress, it was a Friday night after all, and took to the streets. There wasn't a lot on in terms of bars, well maybe I just didn't know where to look, but I headed to Plaza Vieja (Old Plaza) at E's suggestion and found somewhere that was still cooking. 

I'd been warned the food was bland, and true it was much less flavoursome than Mexican food, but it was food. I'd not eaten much during the last 24 hours and a feed and locally brewed beer was more than welcome. There were cats and dogs everywhere - some dogs wearing a special tag around their necks. I later found out this meant they were dogs of the high-up officials in the city and were not to be touched. Honestly, they looked just as scabby as the rest of them.

I headed back to the hostel shortly after, but got myself lost and after getting thoroughly frustrated with myself and the bike taxi guys who wouldn't leave me alone, a policeman (not bad looking either) and his dog pointed me in the right direction. Or thereabouts. I eventually got back and was happy to have a good night's sleep ahead of me.