"Miss, you want cold beer. Six for $20." Cervasus cold from the can in the midday heat on the macadam of the airport welcomes us to Cuba as we stand round the bus that will take us to our resort. The drive through Varadero is stunningly beautiful; red earth, aquamarine sea, golden sand, flowering plants and waving palms. The vintage vehicles we came to see parade by us, as well as horse and donke y carts and bikes of every kind, motorized and peddle. Nodding pump jacks draw crude from the ancient seabed, storing it in oil batteries that dot the arid plain, and at one point our guide points out the Cuban Eiffel Tower - an oil drilling rig. One hotel we stop at reminds me with its dark wood plantation shutters, cane furniture, inward opening library windows and lazily turning fans that this island inspired Ernest Hemingway's writings. Our Caribbean-style hotel has an open air lobby with courtyard pools in which cichlid fish swim lazily and a night heron stalks small mi...
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