Lima to Havana - Customs & Currency

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We had arranged the S30 airport transfer previously and were pleasantly surprised when our man showed up on time at 0230. We were at the airport just after 0300 but we finally made the front of the queue and checked our bags in at 0415. The queue itself wasn’t very long but for some reason everything took an age to complete. As expected the queue for customs was long and only three windows were open. Every passenger was subjected to two or three minutes of the agent flicking blankly through their passport before stamping it, handing it back and immediately giving the “what the hell are you still doing here” look. In all honesty I’d just about had a guts full of the place when it got worse.

Signs to the smokers lounge took us to the far ends of the earth and when we finally got there it turned out to be a smokers bar. The girls got the shits with us when we didn’t order and told us “only one”. Fortunately I only had time for one or World War III might have broken out.

Cigarettes were once again the material for a story after we landed on time in Panama City for our three hour layover. We disembarked and - as per usual for me after a flight - we looked for the smokers lounge. It turned out that Panama City airport has no smokers area. I managed to somehow convince Jo that US$5 was a small price to pay for a tourist entry visa and we headed though immigration against the better judgement of the girl that sold us our visas who was sure we would either have trouble at customs or not get back in time for our flight to Havana. I resisted the urge to tick “other” and write “cigarette” as my reason for visiting Panama on the official paperwork. We were back through customs with no hassles in plenty of time to make the flight although it was only on boarding that we realised that we needed to buy our Cuban tourist card US$20 and Jo made a mercy dash to the ATM.

Our plane touched down around 1500 in Havana and we breezed through the first stage of immigration but unfortunately things went downhill from there. I was approached twice for questioning before we finally got our bags then a third time after we had the trolley loaded and were ready to go. A bloke took both our passports and walked off with no explanation. After 15 minutes he reappeared and ushered me to a room where a lady took a swab of my hand and bags for drug testing. About an hour after we landed we were finally clear to leave.

Neither ATM at the airport seemed to like Jo’s visa card and she was almost in tears when someone at the currency exchange wouldn’t help her get money out as her card was still in her maiden name. Fortunately we found someone who would help eventually and withdrew some Cuban currency - not before a security guard told me to stand back from over Jo’s shoulder. The look I gave him made him retreat and cower in the corner of the airport. If this was Cuba - I’d rather have gone straight back home.

We got outside and the first cab driver we approached suggested the CUC25 (NZ$50) we had expected to get to our Casa so we headed off.

We were met at Casa Novo by the daughter of the owner and settled into our room (CUC25 per night). About 30 minutes later the owner, Nicolas, showed up, gave us a welcome drink and spent a good hour bringing us up to speed with where to go, where not to go and advise about Cuban life. This introduction was worth the cost of the accommodation alone.

About 1830 we walked a kilometre east to Central Havana in search of our first mojito. We passed several people offering cigars or selling hash. The plan seemed to be to try and sell something and if that failed bum a cigarette. We finally found a small bar that fulfilled my Cuban dream perfectly - a three piece band in the corner of a musty cramped bar and CUC3 mojitos served by an old negro bloke in a white shirt and black bow-tie. We were joined by a bloke who failed to sell us cigars and hash but did manage to bum a beer and trade in his menthol cigarette for a real one. He was a nice enough guy and we chatted for 30 minutes. At one point I told Jo I needed a T-shirt saying “No cigars, No hash, No free beers” - he overheard and said “I can get you one - CUC10 - I won’t take too long!”

We got back to the casa about 2200 and slept well - maybe Cuba was not going to be so bad after all.

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