Nightmare of Nights--thanks to Cubana Airlines

Morro Castle from the Hotel Nacional, where we finally found refuge after our long day at the airport

I knew we didn’t want to fly internally in Cuba, but our itinerary was such that we didn’t have a choice.  So, book our flight on Cubana from Miami to Santiago de Cuba we did.

We arrived at the domestic terminal in Havana at 1:30 in the afternoon for our 3:30 flight—plenty of time.  But, we hadn’t properly reckoned on an airline system without internet access and minimal computerization.  After an hour, we were checked in and on to the security line, which was backed up behind a closed door in a claustrophobic and suffocating hallway.  Security personnel allowed about 7 or 8 people through the door at a time, slamming it in the face of the next woebegone traveler.  Next was the usual x-ray of both carry-on bags and humans.  But, that wasn’t enough.  Any little thing that caught the officer’s eye required a thorough search of each bag.  In my case, it was a tiny nail clipper with an equally tiny nail file folded inside.  The examiner plowed through my bag, seized the offending instrument, then told me I could take it on the plane but not open it once on the plane. 

Don waiting in airport departure lounge

We reached the stifling departure hall just as our flight was supposed to leave.  Except that it was late.  A mechanical problem, someone said (which is always a red flag for me, leading me to book myself on the next available flight—but that’s not possible in Cuba because there isn’t a next available flight).  We waited—and waited—and waited.  Several hours went by before an airline official announced that the plane was being fixed and would leave in about an hour.  Relief. 

But, not yet.  Hours more went by.  Then we were told that our plane wasn’t fit to fly, but a plane coming in from Haiti would take us to Santiago.  Finally, it pulled into the gate.  Another 1 ½ hours to unload bags and load our luggage and we were told we could board.  By this time, we had been waiting 8 hours in a departure area where the windows had been sealed so we couldn’t look out and a woman insisted on chain smoking in the ladies’ room, filling the entire area with smoke.

Finally, our flight took off and we all fell asleep.  Soon, I felt the plane sink and bank.  The flight attendant announced softly that we were returning to Havana because of mechanical problems.  When we landed in Havana, several of our sleepy group insisted that we had to be in Santiago, but I pointed to the name on the airport terminal—Havana.

Havana from Morro Castle--not the view we got at 1:30 a.m.

Off we trundled to wait some more.  The problem would be fixed shortly, we were told.  I told our guide to start calling hotels to get us rooms for the rest of the night (it was now past midnight).  He, being used to taking orders and relying on someone—anyone—else to solve his problems, insisted that the airline would find us hotel rooms and that I should be patient.  I do know better than that, so dragged him outside security, downstairs to the airline office, where no one was in charge, but someone did say that there were no hotel rooms in Havana that night and we’d have to stay in the airport and take a flight in the morning (the only 2 Cubana planes in Havana were both “broken”).  Our guide mourned that we didn’t have any options and needed to stay in the airport—over my dead body!

view of the Malecon from our Hotel Nacional hotel room

Shortly, all the passengers were informed to get comfy on the hard metal chairs for the rest of the night.  I had already started dialing hotels, but Havana was, indeed, full up.  After about an hour and calls to 15 hotels, we were able to get 3 two-bedroom suites for an exorbitant price.  It now being about 1:30 in the morning, we straggled downstairs to the airline counter, demanded our luggage, waited another half hour to get it, and snagged 3 taxis to take us to the Hotel Nacional, where we arrived just before 3 a.m.

Puente Yayabo in Sancti Spiritus, our charming substitute colonial city for Santiago

Next day, I instructed our guide and travel agent to get us hotel rooms somewhere between Havana and Camaguey, our next stop since we weren’t going to make it to Santiago after all, a large bus and driver, and late check-outs.  That afternoon, we rolled out of the Nacional on our way to Sancti Spiritus, a pretty colonial town between Havana and Camaguey, somewhat the worse for wear, but happy to be on our way and not on a Cubana airplane.  DON’T fly internally in Cuba unless you have absolutely no other choice.