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2005-04-21 - 7:10 a.m.

The Cuban Embassy wasn�t the epicentre of hilarity that I�d imagined it to be, though to be fair, this isn�t its main point of business, and it was no doubt down to my own ridiculous stereotyping that my expectations were dashed. In fact, it was reminiscent of a housing benefit waiting room, and I came away with similar amounts of reassurance and fulfilment.

The weird thing was that they only take cash payments for visas, like they�re just flogging them off from a street-side market stall, ready to make a dash for it at the first sign of the filth. Still, they dish them out readily enough, and were ploughing through the punters like nobody�s business. So everyone was walking away happy with their glittering bits of paper, apart from your faithful correspondent, who didn�t get his. Oh, the tourists were in visa hog heaven alright, but I�m a dirty, lying, ferreting little scumbag journo going to bring down Castro single-handedly, and not in any way just there to write fluffy holiday copy for inconsequential mags. Well, lo siento senor for trying to promote your country, I�m sure.

I have wanted to go to Havana for longer than I can remember (which admittedly is about three hours these days), though, so I�m a happy camper � like I�ve just won a shiny futuristic tent complete with extra thick sleeping bags.

It�s a weird situation at the moment. I�m being published more, but travelling less, so the emphasis on the terms in �travel journalist� has shifted, but that will probably do me good. I hope I get to do a few more trips this year, though, and don�t turn into a total rubber-desk johnny. I need to get back to America. It�s been ages. She�ll have forgotten what I look like.

In other news, we�re having a house warming party on May 6th, so you should drop me a note if you want to come and meet my fish and Bruce.

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