First Impressions

We disembarked (being English, we didn't deplane) into the hot, damp, musty tropical air of the airport and speed walk to the passport control. My brother's advice before we left "every person you overtake is 5 minutes less in the queue". When put like that, we discovered a newfound purpose to our pace. Surprisingly, there were loads of passport people working and each queue was less than 10 people deep, so better than we've encountered many times previously in the UK. Our bags successfully retrieved, we headed out from the relative tranquillity of airside into the melée on the other side. Of course no-one who arrives has any local currency, so the first order of the day is to join the lengthy queue to change up some money into CUC (about 1.5 to the £) and find a taxi. If I'd thought the airport was hot and humid, I realised that air conditioning had been battling valiantly to dehumidify and cool the interior, the outside air racks the hot and humid scale up a notch and is so thick you can literally taste the air you breath. A bit of negotiating got the fare down from 25 to 20 CUC for our ride to the Hotel Nacionale and the friendly taxi driver made the most of his 10 English words to match up to my 10 Spanish words and make some kind of conversation.

Classic Cars

The first surprise was just how many old classic American cars are on the road. I think I had the impression that they were mostly used for the tourists these days, but far from it. Noticeably, most cars have multiple passengers; I guess you don't use the petrol unless you have a full car. Many have multiple dings and dents and all belch out thick dark acrid smoke in their wake. I'd forgotten what the smell of pre-catalytic converter exhaust fumes smells like, but the memory from childhood soon came flooding back. Despite the fumes, we were like excited children watching the ones that had been lovingly restored cruise past us. Their drivers too cool for school, some even wearing fedora style hates and some smoking big fat Cuban cigars - oh the joy of witnessing a stereotype in the flesh! So much chrome, on wheels, bumpers, handles and the wing tips that flare out from the back of the cars; I had to hold back the urge to shout out "Thunderbirds are go".

Hotel Nacionale

Our arrival at the Hotel Nacionale was suitably impressive, we swept up to the high covered entrance in our taxi and were ushered up the main steps (obviously we weren't required to touch our bags). The hotel is a historic site itself, built in 1930, it is a high ceilinged, mahogany panelled, art deco haven that harks back to the mafia-led heyday before the revolution. Juxtaposed against this grandeur is a large flag with the iconic image of Che Guevara, which reminds us of the more recent history and current political situation of this island. Framed black and white photographs of a cigar-smoking Fidel reinforce this impression. Even when you check in, a list of who's who of Hollywood icons who've stayed here reminds you that you are in a piece of history. Our room on the 5th floor overlooks the sea and main terrace, where the cabaret show soon starts up and we are serenaded by Buena Vista social club music and have an eagles view down to the dancing girls, dressed (and I use the term loosely) a là Folie Bergère. It seemed rude not to go and join them, so we headed down to the covered veranda surrounding the terrace and sip our first mojitos at the bar. I have the strong impression these won't be the last ones we indulge in!