I'm not a crazy gringo

Why do you choose your clothes carefully before the trip? That's why!

I finally found my hat. After I finally got rid of my 'I reveal myself as a tourist straw hat', the search for a suitable headwear was as easy as searching for Swiss cheese in the Peruvian highlands. And then. After one and a half months of searching. In a small sports shop, well actually the only one in Camagüey....

Like the holy grail itself, the object of desire shone at me. A shapely Nike hat without glitter or revolutionary stars, Cuban flag or outer colors in wonderful military green, almost matching my head shape, I lifted it onto my head like Arthur drew the sword from the stone. That's about how I felt.

And now it's time for the topic of sales stands. Oh yeah and....the guys behind them.

Hey gringo! The friendly salesman on the street still wanted to sell me a taxi even after passing by five times within 15 minutes, and the nice bus driver between the ticket control wanted to arrange accommodation for me.

Ahh and the funny salesman game:

hey gringo!

Hat? No thanks.

Cigars? No.

Rum? Also no.

Pineapple? Uhh..no.

Taxi? What...Really?! If I had wanted to buy a horse, he would have sold me one.

Tourist sellers in Cuba, a love story:

Let's be honest, I've met street vendors and traders many times before. But the Cubans by far have the greatest ability to sell water as wine with their charm. Small scams are routine, unless you, like me of course, look like a Cuban or speak like one. After the first Spanish word, I'm usually so exposed. Either you get really annoyed or you take it easy and try not to lose too much money.

The horse ride in Viñales with truly breathtaking scenery is immediately used for a coffee tour in the truest sense. Riding and at the same time cigar, coffee and of course rum tasting. So far so good, if it hadn't been for the previously agreed price for the transport to the ranch and the horseback riding and the surprise that the return journey home with the same taxi was not included. At least the walk home wasn't far.

Also funny. The supermarket near our casa in Havana had two cash registers. The tourist cash register, to which I was sent repeatedly despite consistently adopting the Cuban style (clothes that are slightly too loose, hat and slow pace), only accepted payment in CUC and consistently got it so wrong. The receipt machine didn't work and when calculating afterwards, one CUC is missing almost as surely as day and night. And even the surprised face of the same cashier when you address her slightly cursing is less credible after the tenth time.