Cuba 13a: Último día en La Habana

Plaza Vieja is a maelstrom of tourists, locals, musicians playing salsa and dogs sleeping under tables or humping, apparently turned on by the music and oblivious to bemused spectators. The young fella thought it was hilarious, whipped out his camera. I had to drag him away.

The bakery. Aurelio y Roberto. (I took too many photos here – it was a highlight in a trip of lights all at the same height – so I’m taking out this snippet and I’ll post separately with the pictures.) The bread went mostly to kids – one on the street who kept looking at us and the rest to kids playing football, the next story below...

We stopped off to watch guys playing fútbol at Area Deportiva El Cristo. EVERY time we stop to look at football or baseball on this trip, the young fella has been asked if he wants to play too. Amazing, wouldn’t happen anywhere else. He was high-fiving the other kids by the end. They’d asked his name straight away.

Mojitos at the same bar where we watched Atleti on the first day. I wrote couple of postcards, he watched Barça. Waiter was mad friendly, again just like we’d known each other all our lives. Maybe we have.

Back to the same Asturian place for dinner. Uneventful. Then when waiting for the bill, the original waiter came out, recognized me, big hello and smile, hand out for a handshake, and on his way. It was same when we met a woman who was on the same bus from Playa Larga to Varadero earlier – just another chance meeting. She greeted us like long lost friends. Cubans are just friends you haven’t met yet.

Three mojitos, or was it four?


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