9 Days in Cuba - Day 1

Day 1
Its 9:30pm and the four of us step into the evening's humid air.  After checking in to our hotel for the night the Miami front desk manager gives us coupons for a Cuban restaurant across the street.  Considering what we read that Cuban food could be hit or miss we decide to have a base line meal.  Shadow orders a Cuba Libre (rum and coke with a slice of lime), one of the few phrases he has been practicing.  Chicken with yellow rice, Cassva (root vegetable), split pea soup, and a garlic tapenade with bread followed.    The Cuba Libre arrives first in a tall glass.  Our waiter poured the drink leaving the coke at the bottom and rum floating on top.  A gentle stir blends the two.  By far the best one we have ever tasted.  If this is any indication, our trip to Cuba will be amazing.
Back in June our friends Eric and Laurie contacted us about a visit to the island that has been the forbidden fruit of the Caribbean.  Being that Cuba has always been the first on my bucket list, we jumped at the opportunity.  Thanks to their hard work while we spent the Summer on the PCT, I can check this off my list.
After talking with the waiter about our trip he told us to tell Castro that the Cuban Americans are very happy.  We are still debating what he meant by that.

The next morning we stood in front of a ticketing counter that said Cuba.  I never thought I would see this day come.  Looking around it was easy to notice our bags.  They were the only ones not wrapped in a blue protected plastic.  We asked a gentleman behind us if we should pay to do the same, but was assured that that was not necessary.  The four of us agreed that there was nothing we couldn't do with out if the cargo employees broke our luggage locks...
Tall platform shoes, larger sparkling watches, bright colors, and figure hugging clothes boarded the 737. Our accents weren't the only thing that was going to stand out here.
The plane full of passengers clapped after the pilot landed safely in Havana.  The only other airplane at the terminal was a Venezuelan airliner.  The pilot requested that we close the window blinds to keep the plane cool.  A US gentleman behind me began to raise concern.  He didn't understand why we had to close the blinds and thought that it was some weird Cuban government coverup keeping us from seeing something.  Before things got out of hand, I turned around and explained why, again.  Geez dude!  Chill out, I thought to myself. 
Hundreds of Cubans wait at the threshold of the airport doors while passengers waited patiently as one blue wrapped plastic duffle bag after another dropped onto the baggage conveyor belt. The crowd parted and as we walked out the doors.  Gentlemen held signs with names and we soon saw one with all 4 of ours.  A large smile spread across Daniel's face as he greeted us.  He guided Laurie and I to the Arrivals door of the airport to exchange our money, $200 Euros was all they would exchange at a time.  A cab was waiting where we were passed off with a warm hand shake. Eric and BJ's heads whipped left and right pointing out cars that passed.  It's amazing how there is no language barrier when it comes to old cars.  "It that a 58' Cadillac with a front end of a 55'?" Eric said.  "Si, 1955."  said the driver.  Driving here was very calm compared to other Caribbean countries.   While stopped at a traffic light, a beautiful Cadillac convertible came up beside us with a newly married couple.  They sat on top of the back seats.  Her white dress spread out around her and a big red bow draped over the hood.  
The cab stopped in front of a coral colored house with white iron gates, and a red and white mid-50's Oldsmobile parked out front.  He rang the bell and after what seemed to be some kind of confusion the gate opened and we were welcomed.  I'm not sure she expected to see us.  After a discussion on our end about whether to tip our driver, Eric saved the day by offering him a baseball.  The driver was ecstatic.  
Mary Bell, our host showed us to our quaint rooms.  Both had a full bath, although one was missing a toilet seat.  That was the case at the airport as well, where an attendant handed you 6-7 squares of toilet paper before entering the stall with no seat.  A small basket sat in the stall where you were to put your toilet paper.  No flushing paper anywhere in Cuba.
After dropping off our bags we set out to exchange more money and grab a bite to eat.  Mary Bell helped us with directions and between our broken Spanish, we understood.  The streets outside of Old Havana have no signs, but at each corner a four sided concrete brick sat with 2 numbers.  The streets here are numbered with odds North and South and evens East and West.  We nearly passed the bank.  It was a small gated shipping container with a guard out front.  Cuba has two currencies.  CUC or Cooks, (tourist money) and CUP or Nationals (locals money).  The CUC is equal to the US dollar where CUP is 24 to 1 CUC.  Confused yet?  We arrived with Euros due to a lower government tax.  CUP can only be used at non-government ran restaurants and street vendors.  Basically only places locals can afford.
Our restaurant for the evening was much nicer than expected.  El Farallons, turtle in Spanish.  5 tables surrounded a fountain with lots of turtles swimming below.  A bartender made BJ his Cuba Libre and a mojito for me. Dinner was as expected, little to no spice and lots of fried food and meat. The bartender came over to see if we enjoyed our drinks and began asking where we were from.  We asked about music since we were from Nashville.  He knew ZZ Top  which we all thought was funny.  I did notice that theirs hands made no contact with anything we would touch.  Tongs were used to place napkins and cutlery on the tables.  They were also used to place drink stirs and straws in glasses.  The average meal was 5-10 CUC and bottled water was 1 CUC.  
After dinner we walked the streets because the sidewalks were busted from over grown trees. Homes were a mix of nice bright colors and broken down structures.  All with a memory of the blazing 1950's.  The streets were clean, but trash washed up along the water's edge as we walked the Malecon, a famous sea wall where locals socialize and fished.  A mix of vintage American and new Chinese cars drove by.  A young girl in a fluffy red dress sat on top of a back seat like the married couple earlier.  It was her Quinciera, 15th birthday.  They honked in celebration and we waved as they passed.
Street lights that were few and far between lit our way back to the Casa.