So there I was at the customs window with a copy of my birth certificate and drivers license in hand in the land of cigars and rum. The man on the other end of the glass looks at me like I'm an idiot and asks for my passport. A friend had told me it may be easier to travel with birthcertificate and picture I.D. It is not easier. I fumble through my things and nervously present my passport. Then, the immigration officer preceeds to grill me (in Spanish) as to why I had my birth certificate. Ofcoarse, I lose every Spanish word I had ever learned down my leg. I am instructed to wait. A total of 40 minutes or so go bye, while my documents are passed around to the higher ups. Typical Ben luck. And I haven't even gotten my bag. Eventually, things are worked out after I answer some quetions and I am allowed to pass.

My taxi ride from the airport to the old part of the city was a red and white 1950 Cadillac. We drove past several other cars that looked similar and buildings that had just as much character. The colonial buildings are beautiful, but are crumbling. I had stepped into a time warp. Apparently, time has in a sense stood still here due to the difficulty of conducting business based on the strict guidelines imposed by the U.S. I loved this place.

One night, while writing in my journal, drinking a Mohito, and smoking a cigar, I was asked to join a table of young college kids. We talked for a while and later they asked if I wanted to buy a box of cigars. Their uncle worked in a Cigar factory and had some much cheaper than in the stores. I followed them through a dark alley, up a non-lit staircase and one of them knocked on the door. I sat on a red velvet couch in a small room as a man pulls out a box wrapped in newspaper out of a refrigerator. My hand on my knife. He shows me they are real by blowing in one end, making the brown wrapper expand. I don't have any idea what this means. In the end, I pay $30 for a box of 25.

The next day, I discover I may be in a bit of a bind for money. Plastic doesn't work and all the money you brought is all you have. No Western Union. To make matters worse, they no longer take U.S. dollars and a blanket surcharge of 20% is imposed to exchange into their currency. This means, I am 20% poorer than I when I had left home. This country is also much more expensive than I had thought. I begin to assess my situation.

One night at a bar, I met two middle aged guys who spoke perfect English. I had a few beers with one of them. He drank too much and confessed to me they swindled tourists and had once lived in the U.S., that's why he spoke such good English. I was not a target, but was careful to make sure I drank less than he did. Somewhere in the conversation, he had told me he knew of a way to exchange US dollars for local currency, by trading with sailors returning to the U.S. I will call on this guy for help later.

I went on a tour of a cigar factory and met one of the workers. I explained I didn't have much money. He said he would trade me a box for some of my clothes. Don't ask me why I needed more cigars, but it seemed like a good idea at the time. We agreed to meet later.

That day, I was eating my lunch of ham, crackers, and cheese in front of a beautiful 15th century church. A characature artists did a quick sketch of me. He gave it to me as a gift because he could tell I had no money. We talked for a while about Alaska and his country's political situation. His name was Luis. Luis explained he had a parasite and needed a 4 day treatment of antibiotics. I told him I had antibiotics, but wasn't sure they would help him. I told him he could have them if he would go with me and verify the cigars I was about to trade my clothes for were good. Luis took me to his friends house to see if he could help me exchange my money on the street. No luck. However, I did opt to trade Luis my clothes for cigars. His friend also worked in a cigar factory. Luis invited me to dinner that night. I accepted.

Turns out, it was Luis' wife's bithday. I meandered throught the tiny hallways with Luis until we arrived at his little door. We entered a small kitchen with 8 foot ceilings and climbed a wooden ladder into a bedroom with two twin beds (for 5 people). There was a toilet in the corner with a shower curtain for privacy. We had drinks on their roof. Luis gave his wife her birthday present. A tube of crest toothpaste and a calculator (like they may give away at the bank). I gave her my bandana. I had nothing else to give (except some cigars!). We had a great dinner. Later, I was invited back down stairs for a second dinner with Luis. His wife said I looked skinny. I was incredibly touched. These people had nothing and here they were feeding me a second meal.

The next day, I knew I had to do something about my money and/or get out of the city. I really wanted to see another place. I was desperate and called on the shady guys I had met in the bar. Basically, they couldn't help and it was suggested I stay put and find a cheap place to stay and ride out my remaining days there. This would not due.

I explained my money situation to one of my motorcycle taxi drivers and asked if he knew of a cheap place to stay close to the airport when I returned. He told me he infact lived very close to the airport and I could stay with him if I wanted.

I shared a taxi to my next destination with a couple from Holland and negotiated a slightly cheaper rate than they paid with the driver prior to our departure. By now I am very thrifty. My driver asked how much I was paying for a place to stay I told him $12 per night (+ 20% remember), knowing he would try and lead me to a room where he would get paid a commission. I didn't really have a place at the time, but had to budget my remaining money very carfully so $12 was my price. It worked. I Had a great room for $12. In the little town, I rode horseback through mountains and sugar cane fields and hiked into a beautiful waterfall where I swam and was the only occupant upon arrival. That night, while walking in the streets, I saw a man in his late 50's smoking a cigar in his doorway. I asked him for a light and he invited me inside for a smoke and to meet his wife Theresa. He gave me a much better cigar than I had intended on smoking. He turned out to be the director of the local factory (la fabriqua) and invited me to the factory where he worked. He gave me a bunch of cigars to take home. Yes more cigars.......

I returned to the city and contacted my taxi driver to see if it was still ok to crash in on him. It was. Or atleast so he said. At this point I was desperate. I had about $35 dollars to my name and just realized there would be a $25 exit tax. Raul met me at the door and his girlfriend made me a wonderful spaghetti dinner. Much better than the half loaf of bread and liter of water I was carrying in my bag. I had only known him for a total of about 7 minutes prior to arriving at his house. He arranged a ride for me at 3:00 a.m. with a friend of his that would be much cheaper than taking a taxi. His friend got up just to take me to the airport. I gave him $5 and tried to check in for my flight.

At the airport, I was approached by an officer who asked to see my passport. He said he had seen me give someone money in the car. Apparently it is illegal to give money for a ride. You must take a taxi. He calls over another official. Here we go again............. I then told them I did not pay for a ride. I had simply exchanged US dollars for local currency to pay my exit tax. That the driver was my friend. I guess they bought it, but not before I lost my bodily functions (kidding ofcoarse).

I left the country with about 27 cents, a souvenir $3 note and my last $20 that I had ONLY FOR EMERGENCY.

I left feeling very lucky to have experienced such a place. I also left with a few cigars.