With all of the excitement about going to Cuba again, this time it seems for real and we even have direct flights out of Tampa.

There are still rules, but Tom captured the real Cuba - not modern at all but caught up in a time warp, visited by all but not by many Americans because they weren’t allowed. There is so much we can do there, and time will take care of that, but don’t think there aren’t alot of problems.

A lot of history there, too !

A piece from Tom:

Cuba: A trip back in time

TAMPA - Florida is 90 miles, but 50 years, from Cuba.

What we have here is a time warp.

Go to Cuba today and you go back in time. But, go - go legally ­ but go. Go, but by all means, go under the USA/Cuban guidelines.

We just did. And you can do that.

Do it. It is an education. It will only make you a better citizen of the USA, a better American.

It will make you want to help. It will make you want to help the wonderful, intelligent, passionate Cuban people all the more.

But, again, do it within the law. You can do that.

Before going any further, seek out the USA Department of Treasury, Office of Foreign Assets Control Travel Restrictions. Can find them on the Internet.

You cannot go, know this, as a tourist only. Journalists can go. That’s how I went with travel writer Linda, in the company of Art Ortiz, who owns Golden Airlines looking to expand travel from Havana to Miami, and in time, to our Tampa. He says it will happen, that it will expand and be successful. We flew over on an eight-seat Cessna he owned and flies often out of Miami, then back three days later on Continental, from one of the three terminals at Jose Marti Airport in Havana. We flew into and out of a terminal that is reserved exclusively for travel to and from the U.S.

Under present rules, you can obtain licenses, if you qualify, to go to Cuba go for humanitarian reasons, or, as a professional to meetings, or conferences, for educational purposes, for medical relief. Check the reasons first and see how you fit, as a charitable worker, as a journalist, as I am and as I did. There are limitations. You cannot go as a tourist now. You cannot go as a professional athlete. Go to help. Go to see and to listen and to learn and to help.

But, go, again, legally of course, within the rules.

A medical doctor friend, Tony Kirkpatrick, who flies his own plane, goes often under license and takes a plane load of medical supplies he rounds up. He is well established there, as is Art Ortiz, the Golden Airline owner, and as is an old Tampa friend, Parke Wright IV, a popular Cuban figure whose full head of gray hair, his big smile, his generosity, his representation of the Rockefeller Foundation and his wonderful ability to pull out an old but superb harmonica and play full bore with the best of some of the Cuban combos, or, indeed, any on the streets who enjoy him so. Wright, of the wealthy Lykes lineage which was an early supplier of cattle to Cuba which they managed there on a 25,000 acre ranch he seeks to operate again, and his good friend, Rodolfo Gil, hosted us in Cuba for the Saturday, the Sunday and the Monday we were there with homebase at the government-renovated grand La Nacional Hotel in the heart of Havana.

That landmark hotel, La Nacional, is near the well-known Tropicana, the across the grand waterside boulevard (Malecon) providing open sea views from its 10-stories of rooms. It is near the great Havana landmarks such as great fort, the Plaza de la Revolucion, the Central Park where the old USA embassy stood (the building remains, but not the embassy), near the Cathedral of Havana, the Hotel Ambos Lundos where the great American writer Ernest Hemingway kept a suite-meticulously preserved as it was-and wrote some of his best works, notably For Whom The Bell Tolls. Hemingway is a respected memory in Cuba, for he had a ranch there, the suite in Havana and a rental in the seaside resort of Cojimar/Alamar outside of the city he wrote the Old Man, where the lead character of that traumatic story lived and only recently died, and where he fished himself for the marlin he so prized. We went here, a must, and had a drink at his favorite restaurant, La Terraza.

We were in Cuba two and a half days and two nights, the first night at a Cuban/Spanish dinner hosted by Parke Wright at a magnificent home turned into a fashionable restaurant (La Fontayne) where he assembled a troupe of top musicians, dignitaries, where the main course was a fresh lobster, turtle, steak, chicken, pork, barbecued and on a spit. The wine was Spanish, the bill paid in American dollars. That is a great contradiction in Cuba-cash only and only in USA currency. Cash, no credit cards, carry it in all denominations an and there is a limit on how much you can spend. Even your hotel bill is paid in cash, on which at the La Nacionale you may put the $35 charge for the wonderful, fast­-paced, two-hour cabaret number with a cast of about 50, marvelous dancers, singers and musicians, and, no American music-all Latin. The show on a large stage with a top-notch public address system was before a near-full assembly that wrapped around performing area somewhat, making the show intimate, very loud, and full bore. There was no intermission. There was no hustling of food or drinks, though both were available. We ate earlier, had one beverage at the show. I had a scotch and water, the rest of our party soft drinks. We were the only Americans in the audience that night (two shows nightly), for a bongo drummer asked. Spain, Mexico and Germany seemed to be best represented.

And by the way, we were treated with dignity and respect always in Cuba. Moreover, there was little police presence anywhere, except as traffic officers, and less military, except as courteous guards around some government buildings. Did not see one military vehicle.

Some thoughts, some remembrances of this fascinating inexpensive, except for the air fare, of this travel back into time:

Do not need formal wear. Neat, yes, not formal. It’s hot. Casual Cuba, that’s what it is.

The time warp is seen most vividly in the transportation. Yes, the automobiles are mostly vintage, certainly all made in the USA. There are no USA cars there built after 1957. The 1948 Chevrolets and GM cars abound and run well, thought some are wearing out. Spare parts, Rodolfo said, are made by the Russians. Smart. Yes, Russian cars, busses, trucks and motorcycles about in this communist county of Fidel Castro. Neat site is a father driving a Russian motorcycle with his wife and one or two kids in the sidecar. The newer automobiles are European or Asian, but there aren’t many.

This is a poor, poor country managing somehow with the USA sanctions still in place. The buses are old and packed. A special sight is a vehicle made up of two bus bodies joined at the end with one cab and 300 people squeeze in it. Lots of walking in Cuba, and hitchhiking is acceptable and all over. You will love the old cars, believe me.

Train? Yes, one, which runs the length of the island.

The buildings-well, “there is lots of renovation going on,” said Rodolfo, but in truth, not that much. The grand boulevard does have still some fine buildings and homes, occupied, “by some foreigners, by the government officials, by embassies, corporations, ” our man in Havana said, and there are a few new hotels built by foreigners. The Israelis have a big new one there, but we recommend staying in the fine Cuban facilities.

Sports? No pro sports. The facilities, once grand, are largely in disrepair, as is so much of this country that prided itself so in its sports, its architecture, its cleanliness, and its music, still so wonderful. There is the true saying that you cannot go a block without hearing a band playing and you cannot.

Religion? None recognized. Communism preaches atheism, but the mass at the great cathedral we attended on our Sunday there was packed, the parish priest fine and a New York Yankee fan, he said, and the ceremony was carried out with music throughout by a small young choir to the side with the band around it, the keyboard and four drummers.

The countryside was so very green, with rain each day, and tropical fruit groves all about, particularly mangoes, bananas, citrus, papaya, coconut, and guavas. I saw more mango trees in a two mile ride than I had seen in all of Florida.

Roads? Badly pot-holed, and crumbling, as are the sidewalks and so many of the buildings, many that once were factories are abandoned, of course.

English? Not that much is spoken, not as much as you might expect. Spanish is it, of course. Take a phrase book. It’s not that tough.

Food? Fine. Beans and rice and fish the staple, of course and the Cuban bread and the cafe con leche.

Again, Cuba, it is so near and yet it certainly is so far.

See for yourselves. But, go legally, for you can, go with an open heart and an open mind, veteran traveler Park Wright IV counsels.

Remember the American saying about growing up poor during the depression of the Thirties? We said we were poor but didn’t know it because we didn’t know anything different.

That is the Cuba of this generation today.