Arriving in Havana involves having your senses benevolently accosted by seemingly endless colours, all styles and shades of old 50s cars, music leaking out of every doorway and bar, sincere smiles aimed at you from all sides, pollution cloaking the scene and the less palpable taste of history, of revolution, of Castro's breath and rule hovering in the air. It's a city of extreme contradictions, of both poverty and decadence, of evocative music and disappointments, (half hidden because the walls have ears,) of light and dark co-existing as old friends. Within hours of arriving, I found myself in love with its spirit and discovered I had 'Havanaitus' which could be incurable and require many return visits! The people were ridiculously friendly and generous and I made friendships I won't forget. We (my friend Tony and I)
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