Habana-Cancún Saturday, July 25, 2009
Just leveled off, and this, the third and final leg of my escape is all thanks to the 100$ CUC = $133 I borrowed from Johan, from Belgium, yesterday.
"Dirty Diana", by MJ plays. Apropos, I just sat commiserating with Peruvian Diana Chusperasqui (spelled phonetically as she's Peruvian-Quechuan, through born in Mexico or something ), was also waiting on La Lista de Espera-the Waiting or Standy-by List, for her return flight to Mexico City. “I overslept and missed my morning flight,” she said, munching on the hunk of bread I’d been fasting on since Thursday. We stood outside the Mexicana Airlines office in some back hallway in José Martí International Airport, in Habana, Cuba. We were concerned about getting onto our respective return flights to Mexico. This was the last leg, I was hoping, of my great escape from begging the streets of Cuba. I'd taken a 3-hour bus from Trinidad, convinced one cabbie to take me to the airport for a few CUCs less, and had it calculated to the penny; paying the 25$ Departure tax and arriving in Cancún with about 30 cents, but two-count 'em- TWO credit cards to draw from. My first problem occurred when I had el taxista to drop me at the wrong terminal. This meant begging another cabbie to get me the 5-minute drive to Terminal 3 for a chance at squeezing onto whatever Mexicana flight was leaving next.
Strange how those birds of Mexicana ran me ragged, "That flight's full, but you'll be the first on La Lista de Espera."
Diana and I met again in the cafe lounge closest to or lines, talking about stupid moves, Peru, other travels and trying to reassure each other that we would truly get on our respective flights.
"I overslept and missed my flight, which was 9 a.m. this morning," she said taking more of my bread. "Now I'm trying to squeeze onto this 5 p.m. flight."
"I know how you feel, I ran out of money and I'm trying to get onto this earlier flight. If I can't get on, I'll sleep here till the 7 a.m. flight tomorrow." That was more than 14 hours away, and I was dreading that possibility.
"Will the let you sleep here?"
I hadn't thought of that.
"I would think so. People sometimes have hours of lay-overs and I can't imagine them kicking people out. I hope not, I have just enough to pay the Departure Tax, so I can't even afford a taxi, let along another night in a Casa Particular."
She offered to buy me a sandwich with the little money she had left, but I declined, accepting an apple instead.
"My family's from Peru," she said, returning to our uncomfortable metal table with the standard uneven leg that caused you to instinctively reach for your water bottle every time the weight distribution shifted. She handed me an apple.
"I thought your name sounded Quechuan."
"You know about the Quechua?" she looked up from her yummy-looking grilled ham and cheese sammich. She offered some, but I was still weary of anything more solid or greasy than dry bread, fruit and water. My bouts with the Bacon Bits Pizza, still fresh on my mind. [refer to ---http://chedays.tumblr.com/---for more Cuba tales]
"Yeah, some of my favorite people are living outside of Cusco, in a smaller Incan Ruins area called Ollantaytambo," I recalled nostalgically.
"Wow, I was actually born in Mexico, and I've only been to Peru once years ago."
"Oh, you have to get back there. There are so many amazing places and people. My favorite "city" in the world, outside of New York, is Cusco. And not far from there is where I met Washington Gabaja Tapia, or Wasi as he was called, a young boy who befriended the Tour Leaders [TLs] of this travel company I was working for. His family were subsistence farmers right below the Ollantaytambo Ruins, and Wasi had learned enough English from years of watching TLs from dozens of companies. He followed us along the 4-day treks to Machu Picchu and learned everything he could, even adding some local lore or his own family's historical background. I wanted to reward his initiative and support his goals of going to college to get licensed as a local guide, so I set up a "scholarship" bank account for him. Later, as I knew I'd be leaving that continent, I convinced other TLs from my company to continue to employ him and donate to the scholarship I'd set months before."
"Where is he now?"
"You know, I'm sure he's guiding. That was January 1997, almost 13 years ago when I met him. He was very determined and many of my friends kept supporting him with jobs and depositing money into his account."
[writer's update: since returning Wasi has contacted me through FB and he is, indeed, working in Peru as a Tour Guide. Look for him when you go to Cusco, Peru or other outlining areas]
"I'd love to travel more," Diana said, tearing another piece from her ham and cheese.
"You know more about my country, my heritage than I do," she admitted. "It's amazing how you've traveled so much."
Time was drawing near, as we noticed the new lines for our planes starting to form. We promised to stay in touch and I threatened to visit Mexico City as she vowed to visit me in NYC. We went to our respective lines and wished each other luck getting on
I waited in line over an hour just for a DIFFERENT supervisor to hear me, "You told me I could pay for this on the other side."
"Me? You talked with me? I just got here."
"Oh, well EXCUSE ME, (you all look alike) I talked to another young woman. I ran out of money, my cards are useless here, which is precisely why I'm forced to leave this most phenomenal country four days sooner than anyone would ever dream of! I mean, I came here primarily for the art, music and the annual, week-long Carnival in Santiago de Cuba which culminates today and tomorrow, July 25-26. Who, in their right mind would dream of leaving Cuba on their most raucous days of celebration?"
Of course I didn't say half of that, though I had mentioned at least twice about paying the difference in flight charge, if any, in Cancún.
"I'll make a note that you'll be paying 100$ when you get to Cancún, and tell the girls at the Check-in counter it's OK for them to give you a Boarding Pass."
"Wait, the other woman told me it would only be 50$ when I get to Cancún."
"Well, she was mistaken. It's 100$. The flight is booked. You'll only get on if there is a cancellation. It's the standard Change in Ticketing fee. Can you pay that?"
"Sure," I said, thinking how come the other woman didn't know this standard fee? I've always understood, prices change according to three key elements: the buyer's desperation, his/her ignorance as to local customs and the greed of those in power at that particular moment. "Once I get there, my cards will work and I'll have plenty to pay for it then."
"OK, then simply tell the women at the counter to it's OK for you to get a Boarding Pass."
You can imagine how f***in' well THAT went! Especially since the two Black Bottom Babes with Triple J-LOs were NOWHERE to be found. Of course, while one was boarding passengers, the other far cuter one was probably getting or giving that dude waiting for her her own brand of VIP service.
"She didn't put you on the flight," another counter ‘lovely and talented service assistant’ replied.
"Yeah, she said it was OK to give me a Boarding Pass," sweat now beginning to drench my face. Yet this wouldn't be the last of my sprints. "I saw her type something in the computer and she told me to tell you it was OK."
"I can't give you a Boarding Pass if you're not in the system."
"The flight is leaving in less than 10 minutes."
"Go back to her and have her put you on the flight," the ‘lovely and talented service assistant’ said with even less emotion.
"Can't you call her, the flight is leaving?"
"With what?” she was enjoying this too much. “There are no phones here."
Right, smart. In case of emergencies SCREAM BLOODY MURDER, maybe someone will come.
So, running "Perdoname(s)" and "Mí vuelo ya sale, por favor, disculpa!" I cut the line of 10 or so crammed in that narrow hallway outsider the offices.
“Did you tell her what I said?” The ‘talented and effervescent Commander-in-Chief service official’ asked as if I was a moron.
"I told her twice already, exactly what you told me,” I’d given up on Spanish by now, because she had. You typed something in the computer, but she says I’m still not on the flight.”
“Tell her I said it’s OK.”
“Can you write it down, please?" And, in her defense, she must have thought the same Triple J-Los who’d been servicing me before. Yet, she had no idea that they had gone off to service others boarding or being boarded.
Still, she looks at me like, ‘You are more trouble than it’s worth.’ I hand her the back of a receipt that looks as used as some old Kleenex I’m prone to have for those “just-in-case” moments. Disgruntled, she scribbles her approval scrawl on my little "toilet paper".
As I’m leaving the growing-overpopulated little Mexicana Office, the effervescent and non-committal service woman I was talking to came to get word directly from la hefa's mouth. More like, take another walk-about leaving 15 others in line diligently waiting to be Checked-in to the same flight Diana was trying to board.
Of course, she's not there when I get back with this "official" scribbled confirmation. I gave it one of the other effervescent and talented workers who wished I'd come to them so they could have a leisurely walk-about. Yet, I'm sure they'll MAKE a chance, ANY mutha fl***in one, to walk calmly around for at least one 10-minute break before Diana’s line is finished.
The first one returns, types me in and gives me the Holy Grail Boarding Pass.
"You understand, I couldn't just GIVE you one!" the one who’d passed me leaving the office that last time said.
"Yeah, I thought it was kinda strange," though the other Triple J-LOs knew my situation inside and out and Ms. Supervisor- talented and effervescent Commander-in-Chief service official’ never realized they weren't the ones who initiated the transaction nearly 30 minutes before.
Then not-quite the strip search and, of course just as the migration babe (there were like seven and I saw four were women), she holds up an overly decorated hand, STOP.
"Por favor, mi vuelo se va ahora misma!"
I wait maybe 30 seconds and she waves me on. I think she was just fishing for compliments on those damned long and finely painted nails! You know the kind, where you wonder how they wipe or type or anything with nails that unnecessarily long! Here she looks at me, the passport pix, the photo from when I'd arrived and back to me again. Have I changed that much in nine days? She does this maybe three times, and I think, a compliment on her nails just may get me through a bit faster.
She finally agrees, 'yup, you are the same in all three,' and I'm free...
I run to my gate, noticing one of the original Triple J-Los taking tickets. I get on the “booked” flight which I had been sweating bullets on Stand-by only to realize there are 15 other empty seats!
I highly doubt 16 people cancelled their flights at the last minute!
* * * * * * *
Still, Click Mexicana Flight 7579 is less than 15 minutes from landing!!!
I'm sure Diana got on her "booked" flight as well.
If all goes well, I'll be on Isla Mujeres in about two hours!
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