Cuba Day 15 – I Fuckin’ Made It

Well, here we are. My last day in Cuba. A couple of nice meals, a little more rum, and it came to an end. The deluge of bad luck had eased to a drizzle, the sun had come out, and I had survived. Of course Cuba had one last con in store for me, though. Enjoy!

Woke up soggy. Didn’t piss the bed this time, instead it seemed it had rained through some unseen open window in the night, steadily accumulating in a small lake around my bed. My long suffering Lonely Planet was a moistened casualty. I paddled to reception and paid for my stay. It came to 37cuc for three nights – a steal. They forgot to charge me for a couple of beers. Marvellous.

graffiti

Got breakfast opposite this little arty street. Coincidentally, said little arty street was the scene of my first scamming in Cuba, by dear old Julio all those days ago. Sigh. Memories.

Got street breakfast with John after saying goodbye to Sanya and Joe, who are off to Vinales. Johns card was being rejected and he was down to his last few pesos, so I left him to sort it out and went exploring. Passed the university, a baseball field, and eventually reached the Plaza De Revolucion. Which is shit.

On a grey drizzly day, what could be less inspiring than a grey tower in the middle of a grey tarmac field. Imagine Sauron built his tower out of concrete in the middle of a Morrisons car park. Took an uninteresting photo and left.

plaza.jpg

See, told you it wasn’t interesting.

Went for lunch with a Chilean/German woman I met at the hostel. Good food.

Finished the rum with John, and for my last meal I went with an English girl for some quick tacos. Interesting menu.

menu.jpg

“Ah, yes, I think I’ll have the, ah, assorted peasant, please. Thank you.”

Got my airport taxi with two Spanish guys, quartering what my fare would have been. Bought 2 litres of rum in duty free – they said they didn’t have enough pounds for me to change my 20cucs back. In a currency conversion beauro. One last scam. I’ll almost miss them.

And that’s it… Cuba complete.

Tomorrow’s entry (and the last entry, sniff):

Post Cuba

“Despite Cuba’s unrepentant buggering of my ego, I have found myself missing it.”

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