Of all the countries I’ve visited, Cuba is the most difficult to describe.
After America, any time people asked me how my trip was, ‘OMG so much fun!’ came the slightly over enthusiastic reply. After Vietnam, ‘Astonishing’ was my go-to comeback.
Post Cuba, any enquiries regarding my own opinions of the country were met with a long pause, a pensive frown, and eventually ‘Yeah…’ or something equally as enlightening.
I won’t waste words here trying to summarise a country that has baffled and pissed off superpowers the world over for decades. I’ve taken a different approach to writing about Cuba than previous countries. Rather than the usual single article, for Cuba I kept a detailed diary, which in all honesty was updated for no other real purpose than for my own sanity. It was only upon my return that I decided to publish the diary entries.
One thing it’s important to bear in mind: this is a real diary. I haven’t edited it. I moan, I wallow, I mope. I misspell and misuse Spanish words to an alarming degree, especially in my first week. I make shit jokes for my own amusement, and tumble from joy to despair and back on a daily basis.
It’s all well and good reading the facts from a heavily edited, well funded, factually based travel guide. Indeed, the temptation when uploading my diary was to cut out the bits that make me look like a pathetic, sunburned idiot. However, I decided that to cut out those parts would be to give a false story.
So here it is. My two weeks of being robbed, electrocuted, burned, hounded, solicited, conned and generally slapped about and buggered by Cuba.
It’s gets pretty hairy around days 6, 8, and 9. Fear not, sweet reader, for I pulled through, resilient warrior that I am.