That was me raising my hat to Che Guevara and Camilo Cienfuegos at La Plaza de la Revolución in Havana, Cuba.
Now, let me impress upon your otherwise chagrined minds that I do not care for communism or its purveyors. I was saluting Che and Camilo only because, well, my picture at La Plaza de la Revolución had to be different from everyone else’s. It had to pique curiosity. Besides, everyone in Cuba adores the ‘Revolución.’
It’s hard to talk about Cuba without getting into the politics of its destitution. But I’ll try. One thing is for sure: most people don’t drool over Cuba as a vacation hotspot. I mean, it is Cuba. Communism. Privation. Hurricanes. Cuba is where you go when you don’t want to be found or you’ve knocked up the daughter of a Los Zeta chief. It’s as far from Lagos as righteousness is far from a bordello. But then most people planning a vacation are not me. Most people have good sense. I do not. Especially when I’ve dragged my beauteous wife along with me.
So, why Cuba?