A departure

Cuba. What do I know? That Che Guevara, handsome revolutionary, adorns millions of T-shirts and rode a motorbike; that the Cuban revolution is almost as old as I am; that, somehow, a small country in the Caribbean has stood up to bullying, manipulation and deprivation and managed to hold onto a good many of its principles; that, against all odds and expectations, Cuba’s economy survived the loss of subsidies when the Soviet Union collapsed; that Fidel Castro, figurehead of the revolution and former President, is very ill; that his successor brother, Raúl, has introduced private enterprise; that the US’s most notorious prison is, surreally, on Cuban soil.
 
I know too that for centuries Cuba has been a significant geopolitical pawn: in a 1763 game of Colonies™ with Spain, the British swapped Cuba for Florida; four US presidents then tried to persuade Spain to sell Cuba to them and now Obama is making overtures. There will be diplomatic relations between Cuba and the US whose citizens, the 'freest' of us all, will finally be permitted by their government to travel here (they can already avoid their government's restrictions by slithering in via Mexico).
 
What can I hope to learn in the fortnight I will be here? I shall try to meet as many Cubans as I can. I shall ask a tiny fragment of the 11 million people about their country and tell them a little about mine. I shall ask about their hopes and fears for the future. I shall find out how this country looks and feels before shiny modern cars, McDonalds and shops full of unnecessary goods appear on every other block.
 
Meanwhile, I shall wonder about the notes and coins in Cuba’s two parallel currencies that I acquired at the airport in exchange for new, crisp, unmarked, unfolded sterling notes, and I shall try to sleep off my jetlag in this shady hotel across the valley from the city of Holguin.