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Havana, the most incredible city I have seen so far. The first time I was here, one year ago, I had this feeling... A feeling deep down in my soul that I needed to come back here. A feeling of pure happiness that you can’t put into words. I couldn’t figure out why, but I followed my heart and here I am. The past weeks I studied the Spanish language, discovered a lot about the Cuban culture and history and made friends from all over the world. Today I’ll leave it behind me to discover more of this mesmerizing country called Cuba. I’m at the bus station where I discovered that the journey to my next destination takes a little longer than I expected. Since I have little trust in old Russian airplanes, there is no other option. I bought a ticket and prepared myself for the fifteen-hour journey to Santiago de Cuba. The seat next to me was empty. I installed my stuff, looked out of the window and switched on my music. The bus drove from West to East with a stop in Santa Clara. I rushed to the bathroom where I found out that not only toilet paper was missing but also the bathroom doors. Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do. At least I had a view of the handsome Che Guevara painted on the wall. When it was close to midnight, the driver stopped in the middle of the highway. “Get out of the bus!” he told me. “Look at the sky”. It was completely dark and there was no traffic. I sat down on the street gazing at a sky filled with shining stars. The bus driver walked towards a small house a few meters away and picked up a 20 kg bag of rice. Once back in the bus I was thinking about what just happened, realized that a bus driver in my country would be fired for this, and fell asleep with a smile on my face. I woke up in Santiago de Cuba. It was noisy and crowded at the bus station. Taxi drivers were shouting. I chose the friendliest one. When we arrived at his car, I noticed that my bag wouldn’t fit in the trunk of his small Lada. He positioned it on top, without lashings, telling me everything would be just fine. A typical ‘don’t try this at home’ scenario but here of course everything went just fine. A few minutes later we arrived in ‘Calle J’. The children who were playing in the street stared at me. I opened the fence of number 78 and knocked on the old blue painted door. A man, just as old as the door, opened and welcomed me. His name is Thomas and from that moment on I considered him as my Cuban grandfather. Thomas and I became close friends. I enjoyed his company. Every day we sat down together on his rocking chairs, thinking and talking about life, while enjoying his favorite rum. Not knowing I was about to meet a man who would change my life forever. His name is Ernesto. Named after the revolutionary Ernesto Che Guevara, the man who changed Cuba forever. I met him in that same rocking chair. He introduced himself and stayed in our house until late that evening. Discussing Cuban politics together, the history and the future of the country. But most of all his dreams, his life, my life and the differences between us. In his eyes I saw pain but every worth he spoke came out with strength and courage. After that evening, he disappeared. I couldn’t stop thinking about him. I thought I would never see him again. But there he was standing in the corner of the salsa bar. He asked me to dance. I felt his breath in my neck, his warm body close to mine, the heat, the sweat between my breast, the excitement… With the same passion as he spoke and danced, he kissed me and whispered in my ear: “Let’s start a revolution together”. And a revolution it was. Controlled by the system but free in our minds. “Ernes, hasta la victoria siempre”.