This is Cuba: Part 1

I’ve got a suitcase pressing into the back of my head, a brake lever digging into my shoulder, and my arm wrapped around one of our bike wheels. “Este es Cuba!” – This is Cuba! – explains our “collectivo” taxi driver as he shoves and scrapes our bicycles into the back of his beat-up old red Peugeot (in fact it was the second taxi, as the first was most certainly too small, despite the drivers best efforts!). I can barely watch as my derailleur drags over the corrugated metal on the floor of his boot, the chain catching on rusty bolts. Wellington and Murilo, our newly-made Brazilian friends who will be sharing the ride with us look on with bemusement. We had arrived in Havana two days earlier