We booked our visa with Cuba Travel Services and paid $900 for a round-trip charter flight with Sun Country Airlines from JFK in New York City to José Martí in Havana.
We noticed a lot of people on our flight brought flat-screen TVs and other large electronics for their Cuban relatives.
We arrived five hours before our flight and needed every minute to pick up our tickets and visas, check in, and go through security. The process, thus far, was quite painless.
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I ate half of the ham and cheese sandwich that was served during the flight. I kicked myself later for not finishing my food because we were in for a real surprise at the Havana airport.
After grabbing our carry-on luggage we went through passport control. We were asked three questions by the officer in the booth: Have you been to Africa? Have you been in contact with someone from Africa? What are you doing in Cuba?
Our passports and visas were stamped and we proceeded to the security screening. After we passed through an ancient metal detector we were told that not only did we have the wrong type of visas but that microphones are illegal in the country without prior permission from the Cuban government (we had two microphones on us to shoot videos). Hmm, OK.
All of our belongings were laid on a table for search and seizure. We spent the next three hours standing in a corner, then we were searched again, interrogated again, separated from one another, and I, the only Spanish speaker in the group, was told not to translate everything that was being said to my colleagues during the process. By the way, welcome to Cuba.
Our microphones were confiscated, and we were finally allowed to leave the airport after four and a half hours. We exchanged some of our money into convertible pesos also called "CUCs" or "dollars," one of the two currencies in Cuba. Between alternating exchange rates and two national currencies, Cuba's money made no sense to us.
Thankfully, our driver waited for us in his beautiful 1955 Chevy Bel Air. We perked right up! From the airport we drove 30 minutes to our downtown Havana "casa particular," a traditional Cuban private home we found via Airbnb.
Bienvenidos a nuestra casa aquí en Habana, Cuba! This is what our living room looked like. We had two wooden rocking chairs, a glass table, and a bookcase. Most of the furniture in our apartment, including the Marilyn Monroe canvas, was from IKEA.
We were so pleased to see that each of our bedrooms had an air conditioner and a fan, as it was more than 80 degrees at nearly midnight. This is what my room looked like.
Our bookcase was stocked with plenty of Russian and communist literature, but since we had plenty of things to do, we didn't take the time to sit down with all five volumes of "Lenin."
From the balcony, we caught a view of the infamous Habana Libre hotel, where Fidel Castro ran the country during the Cuban Revolution in 1959.
The next morning we were stunned by the number of "coche Americanos" that passed us on our way to breakfast. The frequency was comparable to being in Manhattan and watching yellow cabs go by. Here's a video from the corner of our street.
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Eager to touch base with loved ones at home, we walked to the Habana Libre hotel, which we were told had Wi-Fi for sale. We paid $10 for a login that gave us an hour of shoddy internet and sat in the hotel lobby while quickly typing up iMessages and researching information on Havana.
Attached to the hotel was a small diner we ate breakfast at as we flipped through various maps to plan our walk around Havana. Here's my first meal: delicious Cuban coffee, fruit juice, eggs, ham, toast, watermelon, guava, pineapple, and French fries (I ate the fruit and bread only because everything else was cold and tasteless).
We decided to walk on the Malecón, a long path between the seawall and a major Havana roadway. The Malecón was like New York City's Central Park. There we saw locals playing games, drinking, and fishing, and couples kissing.
Instead of stores, cafes, and luxury hotels lining the seaside views of the Malecón, there were colorful abandoned buildings that we couldn't stop photographing.
We ventured into the colorful neighborhood of Centro Habana and later realized we were in one of the poorest areas of the city.
Our next stop was Habana Vieja, which we traveled to by way of "bicitaxi," what we call pedicabs in New York City. Our drivers gave us a short tour and showed us some places we should come back to, such as Ernest Hemingway's favorite bar for drinking mojitos, La Bodeguita del Medio.
We took a coche Americano back to our Airbnb and walked to a nearby "paladar," an authentic family-run Cuban restaurant. The three of us ate and drank like kings and spent a total of $18. I had a few Cuba libres, rice, beans, and pork chops for dinner.
The next day we discovered our favorite way of getting around Havana, the "cocotaxi." We crammed into this three-wheeled, egg-shaped scooter and rode along the Malecón to spend the entire day walking around Habana Vieja.
We slowly made our way through the streets of Habana Vieja, stopping every few minutes to take pictures of stunning classic cars ...
We also thought it was culturally important to check out Hemingway's other favorite bar, El Floridita, known for inventing the daiquiri. We raised our Papa Hemingway daiquiris in view of Hemingway's statue.
We took our bicitaxi drivers' advice and stopped in at another of Hemingway's favorite bars, La Bodeguita Del Medio, and had our first Cuban cigars in Havana while sipping Cuba libres.
To complete the trifecta of Cuban drinks, I hopped behind the bar to learn how to make the perfect mojito.
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The next morning we drove a half hour away to spend the day at Santa Maria del Mar, the beach all the locals told us to go instead of the better-known beach Varadero. Our impeccable view of the turquoise water came with a waiter, a giant straw umbrella, and three lounge chairs for $5.
We bought fresh coconuts from a man on the beach and filled them with rum and pineapple juice for a massive piña colada. I ate my $3 lunch as close as I could to the warm Cuban waters.
After the beach we went to what is considered the Whole Foods of Havana to buy a few groceries. The store was very strict: We weren't allowed to bring in our bags, nor could we take photos while we were inside. I quickly took this photo to show that the store does not have a variety of products. There is one brand, flavor, or type that is stocked from floor to ceiling ... so take it or leave it.
All of the frozen vegetables and meats were kept together in this one freezer. A lot of the meat looked as if it had severe freezer burn, and it was expensive ($6 for unpackaged old meat ... no gracias). We were disappointed and grossed out, and we walked out not buying much.
We would later discover that these tiny stores off the side of the road were much better options for grabbing bottled water, rum, and fruit.
There were several freak rainstorms while we were in Havana, and because we didn't have access to the internet we didn't know when they were going to hit and how long they were going to last. We used that time to dip into a small cafe and share a table and a few cigars with some locals.
Later that night, our driver and friend Carlo invited us to his home for a traditional dinner with his family. He picked mint leaves from his garden and made us the best mojitos we had in Havana.
Spending time with him and his family in their home was the highlight of our trip. This was the happiest and safest we felt the entire time in Cuba.
We bought tickets for a 20-minute tour of the Partagás cigar factory. Like the grocery store, we were not allowed to take pictures in this non-air-conditioned three-story cigar factory. I sneaked this photo of the entryway anyway.
The only floor we were allowed to visit was the third floor, where we watched workers in small school desks quickly roll cigars. We were allowed to view the process for a few minutes and were given different types of cigars to sniff and hold.