Our flight was at 2:30 PM, so we arranged our schedule the previous evening: 8:30 up, 9:30 brekkies, 10:30 in Juan Carlos' taxi, 11:00 at airport.
The Havana airport international terminal is run a lot better than the domestic one. They can check in more than 1 flight at a time and they are pretty efficient at it.
We checked our backpacks. Since Bill helped me to adjust the straps properly in China, it was not a problem wearing it at all. The only toll was that with the added weight, my knees were talking to me big time!
We visited the duty free shop only to find, to my utter horror, that they did not have ANY, NONE, NADA, Santiago de Cuba aged rum. This was a catastrophe! All I was dreaming about was scoring several bottles of this to take home with me! They did have the white rum, but not the aged. I settled on 2 bottles of a different maker. (Tasted at home, not the same, this one is more molasses-y, and not very smooth. The Santiago de Cuba was very special, I now see, more special than I thought. Should have purchased some while in town! Live and learn).
The flight was uneventful and not very full, so both Bill and I could score aisle seats. I got lucky and scored the one behind him, all the better to demonstrate my love with annoyance. Remember, annoyance equals love!
Landing at JFK, we were led into immigration, where they took my tourist card, asked me why I was in Cuba, I replied tourism, and they handed me back my passport. We followed the hallway and found ourselves in baggage claim. We grabbed our packs, and headed to customs only to be waved out. We filled out the damn cards, but no one wanted them. This, perhaps, indicates that no one gives a hoot about what you drag back from Cuba with you. This could be why people had 7-8 bottles of rum and boxes of cigars! No limits!
We exit into the terminal and head for the airtrain. As we are walking a man approaches us and asks what we are doing in NYC. We say we just returned and are heading home. He tells us that he is in town for book signings and tells us about his stuff. Asks if we would like to buy a book and we do. Afterwards, the wheels start to turn in Bill's head. He never exits to get onto the subway. In fact heads back to the airtrain. Hmmmmm, could this be some scam to sell poorly written books to stupid people? Perhaps, haven't yet started to read the one we bought. Who know, he could be the next Walter Mosely.
We both had mixed feelings about being home. We loved Cuba. This is the first place that Bill has talked about returning to this year. He paid Cuba a great compliment, it rivaled India in it's intensity of street action. As he described it, there was always something going on to look at: color, music, talking, arguing, selling, buying, laughing, smoking, just living life.
We loved just walking around Vieja, taking in the decay and beauty. The music, it is everywhere and it gets into your blood. We have 3 CD's that we bought and they are playing constantly. The Cuban people were open, caring, willing to share, and so warm. We will stay in touch with the hosts of our casas because of their hospitality, their warmth, and their generosity. It was a beautiful experience.
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