A Midnight Drive to Havana

My original plans had been to leave Havana on Tuesday 24th March via an Air Canada flight to Toronto. From there I had booked to ride the Trans Canada Railway on a spectacular 4 day trip across the country to Vancouver. Once this part of the trip became impossible, I tried to contact Air Canada to get an earlier flight. It would probably have been easier to try to call Queen Elizabeth. Not only was it impossible to contact Air Canada, but it was also impossible to contact Webjet, where I had booked my flights. Neither of them were taking calls, nor were they responding to emails or other messages. The stress started to rapidly build.

In the meantime my taxi arrived at the Hotel La Moka at the ungodly hour of 1 am. I bundled my luggage into an old taxi where I was met with, not one, but two drivers. At times like this you realise just how vulnerable you are. They could have taken me anywhere and I would have been defenseless.

As the taxi pulled out into the darkness I strained to look for any landmarks that I recognised from the previous day. I wanted to see that we were heading in the direction of Havana. My mind was put a little at ease when I discovered that one of the drivers spoke a little English and we were able to have a limited chat during the long drive.

Although the road back to Havana was one of Cuba's major highways, driving in Cuba in unlike driving on our roads. Drivers constantly weave from one side of the road to the other, attempting to avoid the worst potholes. At times we were almost driving along the verge at the side of the road. At least the driver seemed cautious and was driving at a modest speed.

About 90 minutes (and 100 Euros) later we were back at Havana. Since it was still too early to go to the airport, I decided to stop at the Hotel Nacional instead. Since I already had two nights booked and paid for that I would no longer be using, I thought it would be very reasonable to ask for the use of a room for a few hours. They could keep the payment for the nights that I would no longer use. I was wasting my time. Apparently such a request was just "not possible".

Since I was too tired to argue, I dragged my luggage out to the rear courtyard, sat in one of their giant chairs and started to wait. I had already gone close to 24 hours without sleep.

At sunrise I decided that it was time to get to the airport. Another taxi ride (and another 30 euros) later I was walking into the terminal of Havana airport. While all this was going on, Maggie had been busy at home working with Flight Centre to try to find an alternate series of flights that would get me home as quickly as possible. They eventually made a plan which would see me first flying to Mexico city, then flying to San Francisco and finally to Melbourne. Since I could waste no more time trying to contact Air Canada, I reluctantly accepted the alternative.

Although I now had a feasible way of getting back home, the flight to Mexico was not due to depart till 7:15 that evening. That meant another 12 hours of sitting in Havana airport before I could get underway. People who have never spent some of the best years of their lives waiting in aiports would probably never appreciate just how boring these waits can be. The time moves inordinately slowly and the few seats are probably the most uncomfortable you will ever find anywhere.

By the time my flight was finally called my backside was numb. Although I had already been awake for over 36 hours, I knew that the most taxing part of my trip was only just beginning. I tried to console myself with the thought that every little step was a step closer to home.Read more