Day two- I Know it's Hot, but.... Take Warm Clothing

After a night spent in Cancun, Mexico (the mandatory ‘stopover’ on the way to Cuba), I took a $6 bus ride back to the airport to fly to Havana, Cuba. In line to check in, I was approached by a worker asking if I had our visa.  My heart sank a bit, thinking I had messed up somehow and not gotten a visa when I should have.  Was my plan ruined because of this oversight?  No, turns out you just have to spend $25 on a visa right there.  This would be what the custom officials in Cuba would stamp instead of our passports.  It would remain loose in my passport and would be something I needed to hold onto throughout my travels.  I was hoping it would be my keepsake from the trip, the only tangible, official proof that I made it, but it was taken from me when I left Cuba three weeks later

I got a little emotional at the check in counter when I realized the tickets were for real and we would soon be flying to Cuba. Everything was happening and my dream of getting to the most forbidden country in the world for United States citizens was coming true.

I had been told to get to the airport 3 hours ahead of my departure. Several people had  told me this, and so I was 2.5 hours early which was completely unnecessary. I spent two hours waiting around for my flight to board. I checked out the duty free shops, and I got my first view of Havana Club. I asked three different workers about bringing Mexican bought Havana Club into the US, with very mixed responses. Some said no, absolutely not, others said, sure no problem. Ugh! I also found up to 15 year Flor De Cana rum. Always a back up plan.

The ride over to Cuba was short and filled with free rum. (Oh the joys and perks of other countries.) I sat by the window and watched the island appear as we flew. Again, I let a few tears go as I realized how close I was to the country I had coveted for so long.

Once off the airplane and on land, I made my way to customs. I was immediately singled out and asked questions about what I was doing there, what my intentions were and what my job was. Again, my heart sank. Had I really made it this far only to be turned away once setting foot in the country?

They took me aside, out of the line, to ask more questions.  They asked me where I was going, what I would do there, if I had any electronics, how much money I had with me, what my job was (again.) I asked if there was a problem. He wrote it all down, very unofficial like, on a piece of notebook paper. Would that be filed somewhere, I wondered or simply thrown away at days end?  Finally, he said I could go.

When it was my turn to speak to the customs agent, I made sure to tell him not to stamp my passport, though I don’t think it was necessary.  I admired my visa with its brand new Cuban stamp while I waited for my bags. It was gorgeous.

Upon exiting the airport, I was again stopped.  I wondered if it was simply because I was the one gringa who actually spoke English. They gave me no explanation, simply told me to wait. They took my passport. I did my best to keep it in sight. They told me to wait here, and then there, never telling me why and what any of this was about. When finally someone came, she asked the exact same questions the man had earlier, and wrote my answers down on an even less official looking paper than before.   I told her this, very frustrated at this point. She gave me no response.  I had thought they’d search my bag as I watched several other bags being searched while I waited. But luckily, I avoided this and my bags simply went through another x-ray machine and I was off.

Finally, I made our way to the bus terminal to take a 12 hour over night bus to Santiago De Cuba.  As I handed off my luggage to be stored under the bus the worked told me it would be very cold on the bus. I thanked him for the info and assured him that I had a sweatshirt in my backpack.  I knew this about busses abroad. I’d heard it before I left for Colombia and was so grateful for the information once I rode on the first overly air conditioned bus there.

Not even an hour into the ride, I put my long sleeve shirt and hoodie on. I rolled my jeans all the way down. I ached for socks. I contemplated getting my towel out of my bag when next we stopped.  Soon the hood of my sweatshirt was on and scrunched around my face.   It was going to be a long, cold ride.

 

 Traveling tip #2- Take one change of very warm clothes. These are usually the clothes I wear on the plane because I get quite cold on them too, and then you don’t have to pack those clothes taking up space.  A pair of long pants that can be rolled up to the knees for once you arrive in your warm destination. A tank top under a long sleeve, under a hoodie. Socks.   A towel. Or, better yet, steal a blanket from the plane. This will not generally happen on a US flight, as they are way too stingy to willy nilly give out blankets anymore. But on the flight from Cancun to Cuba there were several blankets sitting in the first class section. I meant to grab one. Airplane blankets are the best because they are thin and fold up tiny and are easy to fit into your carry on back pack.  You can then use the blanket for the rest of your travels, for the freezing cold busses, for the beach, for picnics.