OFF COURSE IN CUBA

Saying yes to bright-eyed strangers and no to Caribbean clichés rewarded a traveller with an atypical intrigue

- MUGDHA MAHALANABISH

I SCANNED THROUGH THE PAPER AND DIALLED THE DIGITS R HAD HASTILY SCRIBBLED ON THE NIGHT BEFORE. STALKING HIM ON SOCIAL MEDIA WAS OUT OF THE QUESTION. “THERE’S NO INTERNET IN CUBA!”

—I’d heard returning visitors exaggerate, submitting to a quirk that lines up with a Marxist-Leninist socialist state. The truth is that Internet access has historically been limited to centralised public spaces in the country and it was sometime last year that the government extended access to Cuban homes, albeit selectively. In short, looking for R, whom I had known for about a day, felt like a riddle.

The dial tone gave up for the third time. R was not to be reached.

We had been drinking at a nondescript bar somewhere in Central Havana when he’d playfully handed me his cell number. A karaoke session unfolded in the background, the singers attempting American pop songs. Fidel Castro’s dictionary would probably chalk it up as ‘Yankee Imperialism.’ “I do not approve of gringos telling Latin American Caribbean stories,” a dear Colombian friend had once told me. “Oh and please do not click pictures of riding one of those old classic cars, puffing on cigars,” he’d added for good measure.