That’s where we’ll spend our 10th anniversary come April.
What better place than the Cuban Communist police state for champagne, romance and roses?
But it’s not your daddy’s communism anymore. We’ll be staying in a five-star hotel in Havana’s old quarter, the Parque Central Torre, a Spanish chain.
Though we’ve reserved and paid for the hotel, the airline remains to be chosen. The flight takes two and a half hours from Mexico City. One direct option, and direct is the way we’ll go, no side trips to Panama or Cancún, is via the Cuban airline, Cubana de Aviación.
That would be my preferred provider because I want the full Socialist jackboot experience, but it leaves Mexico City at dawn, playing havoc with my biorhythms, so we’ll likely fly Aeromexico.
I want to see those old Fords, Packards and Chevys before glorious capitalism arrives and sweeps them from the streets.
In the past few years I have read most of Hemingway’s principal works, and I want to see his Cuban home and his beloved fishing craft named Pilar, now a tourist attraction outside Havana.
In the early 1970s, I flew into Key West on a DC-3 and walked through Papa’s home there, the one where the descendants of his cats roamed the back yard.
It was only when I began planning this trip that I realized what a tourist destination Cuba had become for all the world except the United States which, of course, continues the absurd embargo, second only to the failed, 40-year-old “War on Drugs” in national asininity.
But let us not wander off into the fruitful fields of my obsessions.
If you ever want to visit Cuba, here’s a great place to start your planning, the Cuba Travel Network. A similar website, Cubaism, is to be avoided due to its lousy service.
More to come . . .