Snakes at the Lincoln We´d booked our beds in the hotel Lincoln and jet-setted over miami and into Havana for our first leg stop. I should have been wearing a white suit, smoking a big cheroot. A hotel fit for the world´s best racing driver was surely fit for us so our rationalising went. But its been almost fifty years since Fangio checked in, and that should have been a warning. These days, the Lincoln is a sad hollow gaff, like being the last kid to leave in school. Five people for breakfast in a hall fit for 100, a lift that only goes up when you want to go down and always a porter on hand to screw you for another few dollars. But, secretly, I liked it for the same reasons. This place didn't
... read more