A stroll through the city with Pauline was like coming home as we encountered Alberto on the same corner we had encountered him on Day 1 in Havana. A trained architect, he had dreams of emigrating to somewhere he could ply his profession. In the meantime he was exchanging money and spruiking for tourist rides in Oldsmobiles.We had been to his apartment to exchange some money on our arrival. A lovely man.
We joined the others who had been on a walking tour of Havana for a delicious three-course lunch at a restaurant on one of the main squares in Havana. A highlight were the frappe mojitos.
Arley asked us all what we had enjoyed about the ride and what we had learnt about Cuba. This made for a very entertaining listening exercise. It seemed that Cuba had wormed its way under our skin despite stomach troubles, broken limbs, potholes, heat and winds. Reading Graham Greene's Man in Havana doesn't let you feel it until it is in your body as well as your imagination.
Our final trip to Varadero a 25km of walled resorts, temporary homes to Russians and Canadians on holiday. What a different Cuba the resort presented. It was all you could eat buffets, all you can drink drinks, as much sun as it took to burn you brown and as much fun as you wanted to have.
The beach indeed was spectacular. Waves. Sunshine. Sand. Portuguese Men of War washed up.
And from there we all drifted away, one by one. Until next time.
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