CUBA!

We were finally allowed to dock at the pier at around 10 am, Sunday, after six hours of waiting anchored up out in the bay. Three different teams from the Cuban Department of Health, Customs, and the Interior Ministry boarded to inspect the boat. To the occasion, I had disguised myself as a "tourist" - dressed in jeans, t-shirt, wearing no footwear. - All a precaution as not to attract too much attention from the diligent officials. Ulla indulged in polite conversation with a woman who also worked teaching English - presumably always on the look-out for a chance to practice that most difficult tongue. A Health Ministry official was bouncing round inside the main cabin catching mosquitoes with his hands - very agile – every time he caught one, he would incarcerate it in a small container for further inspection.
Down at the bottom of the pier, two uniformed guards sat in the universal white plastic chairs; one training a big camera lens in our direction. The process lasted about two hours. When they had all left, the captain turned kind of philosophical as he exclaimed, “you are free!” I did not agree with him, as it seemed like we had just substituted the clenching fist of nature with the fist of human society i.e. a paranoid State.

Anyway, we used our newfound ‘freedom’ to get rid of our ludicrous disguises and went about preparing uniforms and weaponry for what was now to be an assault by land:

All set for the invasion, Rasta left - Buggy-Up to the
right with the ever present cup of white rum

Going over the equipment once more -
checking batteries, cd, and the location of the play button