Heart

1

Comment

0

Link

Log in to comment or reply

It's no wonder I go through life in confusion. Things never stay the same. For all the winters that I've wondered about going to Cuba, the only things that I've been sure of have been:

[] It is cold and foggy here in February and anywhere else is better

And

[] The best money to take to Cuba is American dollars.

So what's changed? Not the weather, that's for sure. It's already cold and drenching and there's little chance it will change. No, what's changed is the dollars. Look at sites on the web and they'll still say dollars are dandy. But check the dates. The newer ones say it ain't necessarily so. And when I go to the government tourist site, the one that suggests I steer clear of Mauritania, Colombia and Kenya, it's clear: since November 2004 it's been illegal to pay for anything in dollars and, what's more; if you want to buy the local currency with dollars, you'll pay a 10 per cent tax. As for American Express... you can just hear the Foreign Ministry people in Paris making loud sucking noises through their teeth.

This is all the odder because it wasn't that long ago that the American dollar was more or less the official currency in Cuba. I don't doubt people there are still happy to take it, because people are happy to take any money anywhere, but... Well, we'll see. I live in France. I am in euroland. It is no hardship to take euros.

Well, it's done. Our visas arrived yesterday and the plane has been booked. A box has been procured for one bike and another has been pulled from where it was lodged in an outhouse after accompanying me back from America a year ago. The only outstanding detail is our hotel when we get there. We have to reserve three nights before we leave the airport. Not necessarily three consecutive nights, so I struggled with my evening-class Spanish to write an e-mail booking two nights when we get there and a night just before we leave. That way we can leave the bike boxes at the hotel.

It is too soon to be sure my Spanish and my determination to remain in the present tense has confounded Cuba. But I haven't yet had a reply. If I don't get one, I will phone. I don't want to phone because I don't like making phone calls in English, let alone languages I barely know. I remember the last time I did it. I had to call a man in Majorca. He lived in some upmarket hospital for the rich. The operator answered the phone and I gasped: "Digame! Desculpe, soy ingles y no hablo mucho español..."

After a brief and puzzled pause, the woman replied in perfect English: "There's no absolutely need to, sir. I am in Portugal."

The number wasn't in Majorca. It was in Madeira. You see what I mean about confusion?