Holy Havana - The Cuban Challenge: Tropical thunderstorms, food rations, camera pawning & salsa in the streets

Ah, Cubaaa. I love you, I hate you.

Well, if nothing else, you sure did teach me a valuable life lesson! This is by far my one travel story that most definitely needs sharing. I discovered that every traveller has that one travel experience that was unforgettable for all the wrong reasons - you may have been robbed, lost your passport or had the most horrific food poisoning of your life...or, if you are super unlucky, a combination of all those things. At the time, it's utterly horrendous. You pinch yourself thinking this can't really be happening to me. I know it happens to people, but surely not ME. ¨God, I must be such an idiot!¨ You endure an array of emotions: shock, anger, disappointment, sadness, amusement, hope, determination, pride. Usually, in that general order. It's exhausting. And then you start to question why the hell you chose to do this in the first place - sending yourself to isolated, strange places where you have no idea what is going on and no one speaks your language. It's a true time of scrutiny and reflection. And that's the moment you need your conviction more than ever...

*Early days in Cuba, before I knew that getting caught in tropical thunderstorms was the least of my worries*

Connecting countries, lost luggage & last-minute visas…

For me, the onslaught of problems first started en route from Mexico to Cuba - a 3 am Mexico City connection was when I discovered that my 'luggage was delayed' (aka. they lost my bag). Yep, it had finally happened. The dreaded ordeal I was so dearly hoping would never happen to me, had indeed finally happened. Damn, I had been so lucky so far! A series of unfortunate events then followed, in which Air Mexico's 'gracious' attempt to compensate with a free hotel room and return cab fare resulted in an hour-long delay for a taxi back to the airport, causing me to almost miss my flight to Havana.

Originally, I had plans to withdraw emergency US dollars at the airport since I had heard horror stories of fellow travellers encountering a lot of trouble with Cuban ATMs. However, the return-taxi-delay issue meant I arrived back at the airport only twenty minutes before my departure time, leaving me with only enough time to check-in, grab my Cuban visa and run on to the plane. I would have most definitely convinced the flight attendants to hold the flight while I dashed to the ATM, had I have known just how much money withdrawal trouble I was going to encounter...

*Day one post-thunderstorm strip down in my 'casa particular', Vedado, Havana*

City lights, classic cars & those saucy Cubanos…

Since I had no time to withdraw cash in Mexico City, I resumed the mission once my plane landed on my new Caribbean destination. I spent a decent hour scouring the Havana Airport for any sort of ATM, money exchange or cash machine, however, to no avail. Aborting the money withdrawing mission and with no need to collect my baggage that was still M.I.A, I high-tailed it out of the hotbox of an airport and headed downtown to my 'casa particular' homestay. My heart lifted as my eyes were glued to the cab window, taking in the curiously enticing landscape of the Cuban countryside, classic cars and the hot-as-hell Havana City.

They say stepping into Cuba is like stepping back in time. I can tell you they are absolutely right. It’s the strangest sensation. There’s the heart-stopping three big C’s: the cars, the clothes, the cigars. Glistening chromed-up classic Chevys & Cadillacs, sleek-cut head-to-toe white trouser suits and cigars always slinging from the mouths of the proudest Cubanos. I really felt like I had just stepped into a 1950’s black and white Saturday night special at the cinema. And to top it all off, then there’s the saucy salsa in the streets...

*The Cubanos certainly know how to keep an old girl in good knick*

“No acepta en Cuba".

Getting caught in a torrential rain thunderstorm, enduring Cubano men cat-calling (unfortunate choice of shirt for rainy weather), packet pasta, cheap cervezas & fútbol replays - was 'hola Havana' day one. The next morning the clouds had cleared, the searing heat came scorching through along with my burning desire to explore this curious country! Since my main backpack was still being held hostage by Air Mexico somewhere in the Caribbean, my first mission was to find sandals, a hat and a fresh shirt. Thrilled upon discovering a local handicraft market a few blocks from my apartment, I hop on over to the closest ATM to grab some cash - a seemingly five-minute task which then turned into a week-long catastrophe...

Assured by my bank that my cards would be accepted in Cuba, I held hope that I would be one of the lucky ones that didn't encounter ATM troubles on this island. However, after both my VISA debit card and travel card were rejected multiple times, at a handful of different cash machines over several days, my hope began to dwindle and the dread started to set in...

Over the course of the next four days, I ventured into many different bank branches, credit card 'technical issues' businesses (still have no idea what they were?) and money exchanges only to be consistently told the one thing I didn't want to hear, let alone believe: 'Tu tarjeta? No acepta en Cuba'. Even in my super beginner Spanish, I understood exactly what they were telling me. Time after time, I awkwardly stood there in disbelief, racked with fear and unable to move as I felt the panic wash over me. Holy shit, this really isn't an option. So, what the hell am I going to do?...

*When you're down to your last few pesos, it's time to get creative*

Two-peso pasta, three-peso rum & creative camera-pawning.

At that point, I had no choice but to accept that I wasn't going to be able to access my money. I had to find another way to survive my remaining days in this god-foresaken island. I hadn't eaten properly in days, I was forever thirsty in the relentless Havana heat, and I was exhausted from the stress and frustration of it all, but mostly, I was supremely devastated. I came to the sad realisation that I wouldn't be able to truly explore and experience this captivating and unique country that I had come here to do, and so badly desired.

Feeling defeated by 5pm, I wandered home with my bottle of drown-my-sorrows rum tucked under my arm, choking back the tears and distressing thoughts while forcing myself to keep my chin up and stay dignified as I bore one sexual harrassing approach after another en route to my casa. Never have I felt so alone, foreign and helpless. I threw off my sweaty clothes and found bliss in a stone cold shower and a much-needed stiff drink. Finally, I let my tears of frustration flow...right in to my half empty glass of Havana Club.

I hated admitting defeat and letting myself get dragged down by travel woes. I wouldn't say I'm particularly prone to shed tears on a regular basis but honestly, I think sometimes you just have to let it all out...it feels pretty damn good to let the relief flow over you. At this point in time, I now began to realise, just how important it is to have a means of sharing your troubled thoughts. I was there in a foreign country, completely alone, broke and scared, with noone that understood my language, no way to contact anyone back home and with no idea how I was going to get myself out of there. I started to understand what real isolation and loneliness felt like. So, I picked up my notebook and wrote. Scribbling furiously and blabbering on about whatever burst in to my head at that particular moment. And damn, it felt good. That was the release I needed...

Two rums down and ten degrees cooler, I snapped myself out of my helpless pity party and tapped in to my creative channel. Okay, I need to get to the airport in two days time. That's a $20 cab fare, my bank cards are useless and I have four cuban pesos left. Ideally, wanting to avoid hitchhiking, begging for money, or worse yet, the unmentionable. Next best option: sell whatever the hell possessions I had left! With my options limited to what valuables I had with me in my daypack, I decided my camera was less of a necessity than my phone and with newly garnered resolve, I hit the streets once again, new mission underway.

I returned to the bank in which I had previously received the most favourable response - a decent display of empathy and genuine human emotion upon breaking down in Spanglish tears the day before. Whilst attempting to enquire the whereabouts of some sort of pawn shop in which I could sell my Canon SLR, a well-dressed young man in his late 20's (otherwise known as Godly saviour) approached me and asked about buying my camera. After a few minutes of discussion and negotiation, and as my luck would have it, the only English-speaking Cubano in the whole of Havana then indeed agreed to buy my camera for $50CUC (approximately $50USD). The fact that it was a birthday present from my family and worth three times that amount was irrelevant. I was beyond elated. I was getting the hell off this island and back to civilisation the next day!

*Two rums down and ten degrees cooler, I had a survival plan*

Cuba, I’m coming back for you…

…but more prepared, determined & stronger than ever.

I have to admit that while I had heard many troubled travel stories about the challenges of exploring Cuba, it really didn't hit home until I got there and experienced it first hand...and my god, it sure did hit home hard!

Lost luggage, zero access to cash withdrawals and unaccepted bank cards, non-existent wifi and not a person in sight that speaks a lick of English; this is not the ideal place to encounter travel problems! Unfortunately for me, it seems that was just what was in store for me the minute I boarded that Havana-bound plane. Definitely some character-building challenges!

Ideally, I hope this story will serve as a forewarning for fellow travellers about the curious Cuban challenges they will most likely face. However, if nothing else, then at least for you all to enjoy as pure entertainment at my expense - if I have managed to come out the other side and reflect upon such an exacerbating experience with fondness and amusement then, well, you may as well too!

The biggest life lesson I've learned from this, is that damn saying really is true: 'what doesn't kill you, only makes you stronger.' While it was absolutely awful to go through and emotionally tumultuous at the time, I came out of Cuba stronger than ever. And can I say, damn proud of my creative resolve and resilience. It's quite remarkable how you can conjure some savvy survival skills when you really need to! And Cuba, don't you worry, I'm coming back for ya real soon...