An old man just arrived, after an overnight flight, into Paris. An impatient French customs officer asked him where his passport and if he ever been to France before. The old man still searching his American passport replied that he been here once before. The French customs officer, disrespectable, reprimanded him not having his passport ready. The old man, a WWII veteran, then pointed out that he didn't need one on D-Day.
It's only an hour flight, Cuban visa can be bought during check-in at the airline counter before departure, just don't forget your passport. I exchanged dollars into their convertible (CUC) pesos upon arrival. I stayed at an hostel next to the baseball stadium. I focused on videotaping their culture alone rather than being somewhat biased traveling group with their hectic schedule. One day took a Soviet era Lada taxi to outskirts of Havana to visit a Deaf school. They asked me what we Deaf Americans do with our obsolete TTY as we are using VP nowadays, hopefully some organizations will donate those equipment. I felt like was blasted into the past, surrounded by all those vintage automobiles.