It has all been rather sixties and seventies sepia, black and white so far in this blog. And my life isn't really like that. To up the beat and bring you with me into the mood of today, here's some colour from a trip I did in late 2012. Havana.
Always wanted to go. Delighted I have.
Passport stamped, they open a door next to the Immigration Officer, seriously, they open a little door next to the booth, and they let me behind the sugar cane curtain, slam, into... Cuba. Some more farting around and out into the taxi rank.
Just as Clarkson on Top Gear would have me have it.
Old cars, bright colours, and rust and crumbly buildings. Everywhere. I rode straight to the Hotel Nacional in a blue Buick and hit the Daiquiris.
Even more fun that the cars are the Cuban blokes that drive them. Get a geezer who drives a less well restored one is my advice. They're probably not licensed in the tourist trade and are more welcome to get dollars off you. And they are into a good chat, no matter how bad my Spanish and how hilarious their English there is going to be something you can communicate about. Football and women are two obvious places to kick off the conversation.
Look at this fellah! Hola nutter.
Meanwhile. I think I need to see those cars and the crumbly stage set that is Havana, for at least one more time this evening.
To wrap the mood I can show my mates in a pink Cadillac, smarming it up on the Malecon while I have to jump out and do the mood shots. This one taken... after lunch time session of daiquiris at the Hotel Nacionale. Which weirdly enough proved to be just before the mid afternoon session of daiquiris at the Hotel Nacionale.
Hasta la Victoria Siempre, Comrades.
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