The great affair is to move

I just realized I was really in Cuba when a dark-skin man gave me back my passport and said "BienvenidoJaCuba". There was so much in that accent.
I was already in there, one of those mythical places that because of trend or revolutionary instincts of youth, one writes down in the "must" list.
I got a cab. "Argentinean" he said when I first spoke and showed me his arm tattooed with Che Guevara´s face.
Entering Cuba is approaching a past era. What here prevails is destruction, but the kind of destruction that somehow exudes beauty.
"In Cuba you can find need, but not misery", said Omar, the taxi driver. "Sure, we earn more or less 17 dollars a month"
"How do you manage to live then?", I asked. "I call it the cuban miracle", he answered.
An old man looking out the window of a building that is already collapsing; ramshackle cars supposed to be taxis: a spot between modern, residential Havana and Old Havana, the old town. "The no ones", an uruguayan author wrote once.
First interesting point: "Necrópolis". I´ve always been attracted to cemeteries. Maybe because there is a little part of a country´s history between those graves.
The guide was simply perfect for the occasion. Introverted appearance, eyeglasses hanging a bit on the nose and a mysterious chuckle among each anecdote. Stories dripping superstition, love and betrayal captured in cold graves of the rich because poor people, as in life, only seem to deserve forgotten lands.
An old woman told me that there was one first stop for every person that came to the island. When I got there, I sat down, crossed my legs in the ground and simply watched.
Going somewhere new is always so challenging that we forget to open up our senses, to soak up the sounds, the smells, the flavours.
There I was: the "square of the Revolution". I could feel it. Feel the millions of people gathered here. I could see their flags waving in the air with nothing but hope in their eyes. It was 55 years ago, Batista had to surrender.
Had it been worth it though? Is "nowadays Cuba", the Cuba they all dreamed for in 1959?
Tired as hell, I went down to the beach. The sea has that incomprehensible power of hypnosis.
Feel the sand between your toes.Turn your back to the waves and drift in the swing. From there on, offer no resistance. Let the wave drag, like life itself, knock you where it has to, let it deafen, allow yourself to levitate.
How did i end up here? I don´t know, but I want it to last forever.