Havana, Neptuno and a stolen camera

 20th November

Yesterday was certainly eventful.  I'll start with the bad bit so I can get that out of the system first.  Some bastard stole my camera!

We'd spent the day wandering around Havana and were walking along Neptuno between Museo de la Revolucion and the Hotel Nacional where we were hoping to sip mojitos while watching the sun set across the bay.  We'd chosen that route to walk along because the seafront was too cold (very windy) but this street was busy so we felt safe.  I had my camera strap across my body so it couldn't be grabbed easily.  Various men had commented as we passed, saying creepy things like "hello babygirl" but not actually being threatening in any way, just being your standard Cuban man.  

We had just crossed a street called Oquando when we passed this guy.  I had noticed him as we approached because he had been looking at us, but also looking around a bit uncertainly.  But as we passed, he reached across me and grabbed my camera, pulling it very hard so the strap broke.  I managed to grab the other end of the strap but again he pulled hard and broke it.  I tried to chase him down the street but I only had my left sandal half on because it had been rubbing against my ankle.  I kick it off but it slowed me down too much.  He wasn't very fast and didn't seem to expect to be chased, so probably over a longer distance I could have caught up, but he dodged into a house and Mum shouted to me not to follow him.  I was so caught up in my anger I hadn't really stopped to think about what I'd do if I caught him, but the sight of the long dark corridor he ran down made me come to my senses somewhat.  We did note the house address, though.

The interesting thing about the whole experience was how I reacted.  After the initial anger I felt horribly helpless, which was no fun at all.  I hate being made feel helpless and vulnerable like that.  I like to be able to deal with situations, to sort them out, but I really couldn't this time.  

We reported it to the police, but there were no free police cars to take us to the station so they tried to discourage us from going.  We took a Coco-taxi there instead and thankfully our very kind driver spoke fluent English.  So he came in and interpreted for us, but the police didn't want to give us a report form so I could claim on our travel insurance.  We're going to go back next week, but I don't hold out much hope.

The annoying thing is that there's no Irish embassy here to help.  I might try the British embassy but they'll probably refuse to help.  I hate giving up though!  Nobody should be able to bully me like this.  I want to get my insurance at least!

I know it's only a camera and it's a relief he didn't try to harm me, and that I'd moved my money out of my camera case a couple of hours earlier.  But I feel compelled to do something, to try to get something back so I feel less helpless.  The lovely Diane (our hostess) is going to make a few phonecalls and see what she can do - it's far too easy to be pushed around when you don't speak Spanish so that's a great help.  And when the holiday is over I'm going to write to Castro to complain - you'd think the police would be more effective in a dictatorship.