Havana. The initial shock

My initial greeting into Cuba was not one of the most fortunate. After having checked into my passport, the immigration officer puts her hand up and tells me to stand back on the side. No explanation. She of course holds onto my passport. Then I see EVERONE who has on my plane getting their passports checked and going through the doors. I was the only one left there. After waiting for about one hour and a half, I go to a random security officer and ask for my passport back or any sort of explanation. I explain that my friend is waiting for me on the other side and I do not know what to tell her. He tells me to wait and then he starts questioning all the other immigration officers where is the one with my passport. But with no rush. They even closed the passport checking desk. This whole thing lasts about half an hour more under my very own eyes. I even begin contemplating sleeping at the airport. In the end, another immigration officer comes back to me with my passport. He pulls me aside in a questioning room. He tells me that from time to time they do more thorough security checks and they randomly select people to question. And I was of course one of the "lucky" ones. He asks me a series of questions (how much currency do I have, electronics etc). After half an hour, we finish, he shakes my hand and asks me if I am tired. I tell him I have been on 13 hours of flight and then 3 hours detained at the border, all while my friend was waiting for me outside at the airport. I used the word "amiga" which stands for friend who is a girl. He then asks me if I am single. I tell him that questioning time is up and he should get me out of the airport.

The morning after I landed into Cuba, Adelina and I decided to descend into the city of Havana for the first time. Little were our expectations and preparations for this very different world. Firstly, the jet lag. Secondly, the heat wave. The humidity in the air coupled with the dusty streets made it difficult to breathe. Thirdly, we initially had this feeling that we've landed from a different planet. Buildings were mostly unkept and almost falling apart, roads in reconstruction, cars were almost running us over as there were pretty much no pavements. We were warned numerous times not to listen to those offering us directions on the street as they always want to be paid and may sometimes lead us wrongly to try to scam us. Thus, none of us dared initially to have a look on the map as people were already jumping on us.

Having distinct clothing, Lonely Planet guidebooks in our hands and being only us girls did not also help much. Wearing a tourist sign on our heads could have not made it more obvious that we were not from there. At every corner everyone was trying to sell us something. At every corner we heard 'Happy Holidays' and marriage proposals. At every corner taxi drivers were aligned to try and persuade customers for rides.

But what stroke me the most was the initial contact with poverty. 'This must be how Romania looked 60 years ago', muttered Adelina. It all looked like time stopped at the revolucion in 1969 and things started to fall apart ever since. The very few shops had 5-10 items in total for display (mostly cigarettes, rum, shampoo and very few groceries). I must admit I had an initial feeling of shock and, unreluctantly, some sort of automatic rejection.