The gaze is enhanced by unfamiliar surroundings, the brain searches for recognizable anchors in the unknown. Hous- es look like houses, but the shadows are sharper and the colours are intrusive. The streets are full of holes and in the windowsills the potted plants have turned into trees.The skeletons of the buildings are exposed, and the statue has fallen over. The city is crumbling and the decay is advancing.

I wake up in the hotel in Havana in the town of Vadado, a privileged guest in search of adventures. The heat, the beach - and rum.

Strategically we avoid the worst tourist traps and dance steps, and attempt to get an insight into the last bastion of communism.
It will soon end - they say, and we should visit before it is over.
Cuba is history in the making.