Arriving in Havana that tuesday afternoon felt like a homecoming - a place we felt familiar wih and one we knew how to navigate sans Lonely Planet.
This time around we opted for a casa particular rather than a hotel which i'd definitely recommend. we were given keys and could come and go as we wished, and the location on Calle Amistad, Centro Habana, near bar/paladares hot-spot Calle Obispo, was superb.
After unloading our luggage in our rooms, we set off to find a bank to take out more money (Ian had miraculously managed to budget well enough not to have to withdraw money until this point) and an internet café (something the girls were happy spending their money on despite being only 1½ days from departing Cuba). While they used the internet, Ian and I set up camp at the bar across the street. We later realised this cool little hang-out (La Lluvia de Oro) is actually included in the Lonely Planet but that didn't make it any less nice or cosy. A few bottles of CUC$1 Cristal later, the girls joined us and we decided to stay there for dinner. And really, how could we not when they did Cuban style rice and frijole for just CUC$1.05!
Incredibly filling dinner finished, we returned to the casa (Amy and Rach wanted to change before heading out to a few bars). The girls seemed to have a route and destinations worked out and not wanting to cause any unnecessary arguments, i decided to just follow their lead... in the end, it wasn't the most succesful evening. Bars were either too full or too empty and quiet for the girls' liking (ian didn't seem too bothered and i was quite happy to just chill with a beer anywhere, quiet or not) and after walking about for 1 hour, unsuccesfully searching for bars we never found, we ended up at Café Paris where we went the very first evening we spent in Cuba. the same overbearing waitress was still there but after donating what little change we had to the band that was playing [they come around to the tables and it is expected that you tip them - slight downside to being too much of a tourist to know where the locals go for their drinks and musical entertainment] and Amy and Rach being out CUC$4 for the coctails they ordered, she didn't get much of a tip from us that night. Quite possibly the most uneventful and unsuccessful night we had on our trip, we were back at the casa before midnight.
The following day was our last full day of the trip so for me that meant stocking up on souvenirs. I got shaun and ed's 21st birthday presents at the market near Plaza Vieja. i also got 2 scrapbooks to be used as photo albums (in keeping with the tradition i started in india of buying albums that are somehow inspired by the place i've visited - cue the 'Havana Club' rum stickers on the front of the Cuba albums).
After a tense mood at lunch where money once again became an issue (i was soooo sick of that at this point), we ventured west to Plaza de la Revolución (formerly Plaza Cívica, the square was re-named after the 1959 revolution) and our 728th encounter with José Marti. His statue is EVERYWHERE. The decision to go to Plaza de la Revolución at this time was another point of disagreement. Amy and Rachel wanted to stop there the following day on the way to the airport (to save what i thought was a rather pathetic CUC$2 each on a taxi ride) which i strongly protested against - it just seemed completely silly to me to stop there during the warmest part of the day in the clothes we had to wear for a 10 hour flight.
In the end, we combined the Plaza with a visit to the Necropolis Cristóbal Colón which seemed to make people feel that the extra CUC$2 spent were worthwhile.
That evening we went to Castillo de los Tres Reyes Magos del Morro (aka Morro Castle), the fortress guarding the entrance to Havana Bay which dates back to the Spanish rule in the 1500s.
I think the realisation that this was the end of my Cuba experience and the circumstances surrounding my 3 travel companions at that point in time really hit me that evening, sitting on the wall of the fort, watching the sun set. I have wanted to go to Cuba for 5 or 6 years and i felt so unbelievably guilty that, that night, because of how differently i prioritise things in comparison to the people i was travelling with, i just couldn't wait to leave. i wanted to be at home, away from Edinburgh, away from people from uni, and away from all the girly tension a petty discussions and disagreements. i felt guilty because of how lon i had wanted to be in Cuba but also because i spent a lot of money to go there and have that travel experience - money that a lot of people in the world do not have the freedom or ability to spend like that. how ungrateful was it then of me to wish myself away from there? it certainly wasn't how i'd ideally spent the last evening in Havana (ie. crying my eyes out and being anti-social) but what can you do :)
After croisssants and coffee at the French bakery (i write this with extreme Parisian disdain because neither the croissants nor the coffee came anywhere near the standards set the year i lived in the french capital... but points for surpassing all other pastry-type snacks we had thus far encountere
d in Cuba), Ian and I went to the Museo de la Revolución while the girls opted not to shell out the CUC$4 entrance fee. The museum turned out to be a true illustration of Castro's socialist principles and ideals. Historical facts were presented (twisted?) in a manner that depicted America as the evil imperialist superpower (hmm, maybe Fidel is on to something? :P) and the policies passed by Fidel's government were shown to have elevated Cubans' standard of living to unprecedented heights. I found the way in which things were presented and explained fascinating because of the complete lack of objectivity and consideration of the bigger picture. it gave food for thought with regards to the information to which Cubans have access on a day-to-day basis in a country where all aspects of life seem so strictly regulated by the government and the people in charge.At 1PM we set off from the casa and headed towards José Marti International Airport (there is just no escaping señor Marti's legacy...) and our Virgin Atlantic return flight. Hasta luego, Cuba!
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