I have dreamed of going to Cuba ever since I was a teenager standing at the edge of Mallory Square in Key West, Florida. There near the end of the square lies a certain landmark that boosts we are at the southernmost part of the continental United States and that Cuba lingers only 90 miles away.
For five years straight in the early 90s, I traveled with my family to the Florida Keys over the Christmas holidays to escape the long and brutal winter in Minnesota. We spent every New Year’s Eve in Key West, a town known for its margaritas, Jimmy Buffett and the end of the road before Cuba. I always wondered what this forbidden island was like.
Sadly, American tourists have been unable to travel freely to Cuba ever since the US-imposed embargo that severed Cuba from the United States in 1960. Deemed by many as an absolute failure, it is surprising that the blockade or bloqueo as the Cubans call it continues. But that is an entirely different issue in itself.