A city to revisit

It's been a long long time since last I odysseyd. Too long, even. 21 months I dwelled in Europe, never seeing different shores than those regulated by the EU. Don't get me wrong, Europe is one of my favourite continents, and probably the best for dwelling over a length of time. But faraway lies unexperienced experiences, and weird and different food, and all manner of adventures Europe seldom provides outside of doing so in well-organised and ordered fashion.

And so it was with great anticipation I had a final local IPA at my pub of choice and went to bed early as the proverbial bird. For at 4 o'clock, when most people are still up, I got up. And long before my local breakfasteria had opened, I arranged for my ass (and the rest of me, and my stuff) to be hauled to the nearest international airport. And with no hassle* and only one immaculately timed lay-over, the flight towards the home of rum, revolution and really old cars took off.
And the old-timey automobiles really are plenty; on the way from the airport to the city centre, I estimated that every other car was from the 1960's or earlier. I also noted what will surely be a staple aspect of Cuba, namely its stark contrast between old and new, between run-down and renovated, between intricate and simplistic.
It had been a long day, but after I had checked in at my casa particular, I took a stroll around the differently-coloured neighbourhood and found myself having dinner at the often fully booked and from the pictures (Strawberries and chocolate, Cuba's hitherto only Oscar nominated movie) famous La Guarida. And that's where I had the first rum of this trip: Santiago de Cuba 12 años.

Sunday proved to be the day when Hoff took off, and left Hassle in charge. I was to switch to a different casa, which was only a short stroll away. So off I trotted, and found it easy enough. However, the staff were nowhere to be found, and even though I travel light, I wasn't keen on exploring the city with a 15 kg backpack tagging along. Instead I found some shade and tried to keep up with my reading of travel books until noon. And as I now have come to believe, by pure chance, someone was there to let me in and get me to my room. That was pretty much all he did, though. No welcomes, no showing me around, no interest whatsoever. And I say by chance, because after a day of walking in the hot sun, and in the city, I returned, only to find the place unstaffed. Again. And the keys they had given me didn't work. So, at 9, no one. At 10, no one. At 12, someone who might as well not be staff, at 17, no one, at 17:45, no one. And no working keys and no usable phone, or number. I decided to go wait with a beer; I sure as hell couldn't stay in the 42 degrees hot staircase. Oh, and did I mention that this particular Casa particular was located on the seventh floor, with a lift that worked at best sporadically?
Eventually I happened to arrive at the same time as another guest, whose keys were working, and I got a quick shower and a change of clothes before the pre-dep meeting. And the only guy on staff showed up a few minutes later.
Despite the casa conundrum, I managed to take in quite a bit of the Cuban capital, painfully getting my feet used to my flip-flops (there where blisters after some 6 km of walking) in the process.
Castillo San Salvador de la Punta, a small but efficient fortress at the mouth of the harbour lay just at the end of el Malecón, the oceanside promenade.
After a visit to Castillo de la Real Forza, I ventured into Habana Vieja (the Old Town) for a view of Plaza de la Catedral and its, you know, cathedral.
Capitolio, very similar to its namesake in DC, and Capitolio Nacional, not in the least similar, was located quite close to Gran Teatro de la Habana. Unfortunately, Museo Nacional des Bellas Artes was closed, and so was Museo de la Revolucion.
I'll have a chance to revisit those museums, and other stuff that I might have missed upon returning to Habana. But first, it was time to meet my co-travellers for the next week or, more. An oddly international little group gathered in the cab, and subsequently the cosy little restaurant in Habana Vieja, consisting of a couple from England and one from Israel, two friends from the US, a Philippina, a Dutch girl, a Cuban tour leader and me, Martin, from Sweden.
As the morning came, as did a mini bus, all AC:ed and roomy, and ready to whisk us off to the South Coast.
*) Just Hoff