My parents spent their honeymoon in Miami, but they had considered going to Havana instead. Such easy access has changed considerably for U.S. citizens over the years.

My desire to get there in 2000 began with a call to American Airlines. The employee hung up on me. Perhaps we were disconnected, but I don’t think so. After several other inquiries I began to feel as if I was trying to visit a black hole.

Further investigation eventually yielded a tourist company in Canada. Arrangements and payments were made for my flight to Havana via Toronto and a beautiful room with a balcony and view in one of Havana’s stunning hotels in the old center.

The flights went well and entering Cuba with an U.S. passport was no problem. I arrived at the hotel and presented my voucher. The gentleman at the desk said it wasn’t valid.
There was no recourse and no way of knowing where the blame lie. The only room he could offer me, at an additional expense, was one in the basement without windows.

My call to the Canadian agency concluded with the notification that my agent no longer worked there.
Nothing more.

Fortunately Havana cast a potent spell.