Islazul Hotel Santa Clara Libre
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TripAdvisor Reviews Islazul Hotel Santa Clara Libre Cuba
Travel Blogs from Cuba
... to spend her last two days in Havana. We talked about our experiences, how people never have change when they see tourists, etc etc. We got dropped off at the street next to our Casa. Our flat was on the third floor, no elevators, meaning dragging my suitcase up all those floors. We got to our flat, the room was not ready. So the lady, Isabelita, made us sit in her living room. She spoke perfect English and had lots of tourist books. I borrowed a book from her. ...
Our last days on Cuba were spent in Havana cruising the city in our yellow and white Ford Mustang, walking the streets of old Havana and meeting some wonderful characters along the way. Good deeds Ivan, a street cleaner stopped us to talk about his love of his city, ask about Australia and tell us how much he preferred the sound of Aussie English to American English. He also shared pictures of his 2yo daughter, Brenda and gave us his address so we can visit him when we ...
... is the theatre, though the interior is in no way as exciting as Cienfuegos’ Terry Theatre. But there is a combination bill for the Dia Internacional de la Danza: flamenco, rumba and ballet (Don Quichote).
The Caretera Nacional running out of the historic centre is flanked by single storey buildings with arcades of mixed inspiration: Greek, Roman, Arabic, colonial.
We finally find a paladar that ...
Last night when we were doing our visiting was when I realized why Cubans don't have doorbells on their homes. Everyone just stands out on the road, or hangs out the window of their car, or stands on their bike and yells, "Hey Juilo, are you home?" in a voice that could be heard from Canada.
Today we drove to a Fort, whose name I have unfortunately forgotten. Mostly the roads enroute were the typical pothole filled roads, until we ...
Tuesday April 14 –My rental owner knocked on my door at 6
am, as pre arranged (thanks to G’s translating). But the breadman had already
wakened me. I’d woken to the sound of a whistle, similar to the ones we used to
playing cops and robbers with as a kid. Followed by the shrill voice repeating,
“panyooooooo, panyoooo!” I did not realize what ...