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One piece of advice I heard before traveling to Cuba was to be wary of overly friendly locals, looking to sidle up to tourists who would then buy their new friends drinks, food, presents, etc. Knowing that, I planned to stick by my friend K’s side and not mingle too closely with any locals. That didn’t happen. Our trip started off on a sour note. When we arrived, we tried changing our Mexican pesos to the Cuban CUC – only to find out that the money-exchange caja had closed at 6PM on the dot – exactly 1 minute ago. Deaf to our pleas, the cashier shrugged off our entreaties by saying that they would be open tomorrow at 9AM. Disheartened and with no usable money, we walked down El Malecon, an esplanade jutted against the ocean with couples canoodling on the seawall and kids running around. We tried to ignore the pangs of hunger by taking in the smell of the saltwater and enjoying the occasional breeze that cooled our overheated skin. It was here that we met Alexi. I first noticed Alexi down in the rocks. He appeared to be looking for something against the choppy waves and sharp rocks; it did not look safe. Alarmed, I asked “Necesita ayuda?”. Do you need help? “No,gracias” he calmly replied. Somehow, he maneuvered his way up the wall and started chatting with us. Alexi was born and raised in Havana, had never traveled outside of Cuba, and had a lot of questions for us about our lives. He then learned more about our current situation. “No tenemos dinero para comer,” I said plaintively. We don’t have money to eat. “No problemo - vendré a verte luego con comida” he replied. No problem - I’ll come meet you later with food. Later that evening, Alexi appeared, bearing a water bottle and two boxes of ropa vieja con arroz y frijoles. We wolfed down the food while sitting outside under the smokey pink sky, and fervently thanked him, promising to pay him back. He refused and stated it was a welcome gift to Havana. I was touched by this kind gesture. At the time, I was amazed that someone kept their promise about meeting up exactly on time (thanks LA). Even more surprising, he offered to meet us the following morning to show us around. Somehow, we ended up with a tour guide for the week. Alexi showed us around all the hidden spots of Havana. We met local artists who gave us drawings made by their students. We sat in the living rooms of strangers who talked and talked about their lives in rapid-fire Spanish. When a sudden thunderstorm burst and poured down into the streets, we took refuge into a random apartment-building and spent the afternoon chatting about salsa and answering questions about Bruce Lee with other locals. Being shown around by a local opened up a whole new community beyond what we thought we would see – both good and bad. When we rode a rickety old bus, a local woman yelled at Alexi for bringing two tourists on-board. As we walked through the thick haze of humidity across the island each day, we were acutely aware of the poverty surrounding us – and even more so of our privilege. Nevertheless, there were far more good moments - moments that make my heart swell whenever I think about them. When K and I got food poisoning from spoiled ice cream, one of Alexi’s friends showed up at our hostel with medicine. When we fretted about getting a ride back to the airport without getting ripped off as we did previously, another local helped arrange a fairly-priced ride. People kept welcoming us and asking about our experience in Havana. We had come fully expecting some locals to try and take advantage of us. We didn’t expect to be taking advantage of the locals. During the plane ride back, I asked K what she thought of the trip, and laughed about how a chance encounter ultimately shaped our trip for the better. “Dude”, she said “I’m so glad we didn’t listen to your friends”.