There are basically three types of taxis here: good-condition vintage cars from the fifties, mostly-broken cars from some point in the past, and modern cars. The mostly-broken cars and nice modern cars are for the birds. We were on vacation and planned to ride in style.
Everybody else was clearly thinking the same thing because all of the vintage cabs were full while the others were hungry for passengers, which meant we had to sneakily signal to the passing vintage taxis without letting other taxis see. However, if you're not well-hidden, the broken cars slowly slink on over while you're not looking. When you turn back, a driver in a rusty box on wheels will have appeared from nowhere. "Taxi?" he'll ask.
Sure enough, a slinker caught Mike and I and took us down to Old Havana to both explore the neighborhood and finally exchange Euros for CUC. Only thing is I forgot our Euros at home so the exchange, well it didn't go too well. With the little money we did have, we grabbed a coffee and then walked over to a small stand selling refreshing delicious coconuts in one of the plazas. We didn't order the "Coconut Smilch" because we didn't know what it was but we certainly weren't in the mood for smilch at 9:30am, coconut flavored or otherwise. Coconut water would be just fine.
We drank our coconuts next to a baby holding a big fork riding a chicken, and then searched unsuccessfully for bug spray (for Zika and Dengue Fever protection).
Dickie was planning to meet us at the AirBnb at midday, and midday it was so we returned home to fetch the final member of our crew.
Getting Rich from downstairs!
"Good news boys!" Dickie came into the apartment hot. He unloaded his backpack on the couch and plucked out a small bottle of bug spray, aware of the mosquito-borne epidemic. No ordinary spray, he explained. While most sprays are little more than fifteen percent deet, this spray was chock full of it -- 98.25%! How rare!
"No Zika or Dang-Goo here," Dickie said, using his preferred pronunciation of "Dengue Fever".
We headed back into town and worked up an appetite walking around the plazas. A small restaurant had a few tables set up on the side of the cobblestone streets and live music was playing softly nearby. We started with a few beers, catching up on life and enjoying the sun. When our waiter came back to take our appetizer orders, he told us "No pizza today because the oven is broken." No problem -- we ordered the bruschetta and toast. "No bruschetta or toast, the grill is broken too." No problem -- we ordered olives. "No olives".
On the way back home, we found what we three always find when we travel internationally -- a game of ball. And we did what we always do, lost to a bunch of kids, three games in a row. For those keeping track at home, we're 0-8 in international play. Team USA doesn't travel well I suppose.
For dinner, we found a place with both an oven and a grill, unlike some restaurants we know. We ordered a round of appetizers, some ("pastry basket with tuna and cheese") more adventurous than others. Dickie took a bite of one of the more adventurous, authentic appetizers. "Wow," he said, surprised. He ejected his bite out of his mouth, through the humid Cuban air, and onto a napkin on the table. "Good," was his evaluation, 100% serious. Mike and I laughed hilariously. Dickie did too.
A round of drinks later, and with the apps and our individual entrees polished, we were rounder than ever. But not round enough. The waitress came to clear our plates and asked if we wanted the check. "Actually, we'll do another pasta entree and fries, por favor." The Round Trio was back!
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