While dreaming of my departure to Cuba’s capital, I met a Canadian-Swiss woman over lunch. I was eating fresh fish on the upstairs bar, at my cozy shipwreck, when I overheard her planning to head back to Havana—with her travel companion—and I asked if they would be up for sharing a taxi. If you can travel with a group of people, you can usually get close to the same fare as the bus, without having to actually be on a bus. [Secret: We had non-stop Cuban rap videos and air conditioning in our cab—I cannot say the same for the bus.]
What can I say about Havana. It’s a trip—a wild trip. Even knowing the history and seeing countless photos cannot prepare you for the being there in person. As my taxi driver maneuvered his way through the busy streets, the dilapidated structures stood proud and demanded attention.
People moved their way through the traffic—populated with 1950s diesel guzzlers—and rickshaws wove around bricks and boards that fell into the streets.