Old Havana Holiday

Arriving in Jose Marti International Airport in Havana was just the most amazing feeling, knowing you are now entering one the last remaining seats of Dictatorial rule left in the world  somehow seems 'cool'.

We shuffle from corridoor to corridoor as we make our way to Immigration.  Now this is unreal.  The bustle of the corridoors filters out into a huge room about 100 meters wide and the same long with a succession of cubicles running from one side to the other. 

Peopel break up form a worm like procession and pick a cubicle to qeue at.  I am next in line and there is complete silence in this place, it seems eerie.  No one speaks as if there are invisible shackles keeping them from there excitment.  I look ahead and the lady in front takes back her passport and is told to 'push the door'  she does, stands there momentarily, turns to look back and the big off-white door slams behind her.  I can't help but feel that when I pass through the door I shall never return to Ireland again!

After having my facial features thoroughly examined by the immigration officer I push the door and step into an amazing sight, the door slams behind me and there is no going back.

Ahead there is lots of activity and noise, people laughing and talking, beeping from the metal detectors, security personal shouting for you to walk slowly through the detectors, an official looking lady with perfect uniform wears a pair of fish net stockings which amazes me but it doesn't matter as I am finally here.  Cuba