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getting dark and we were still walking at the same pace.</p><p id="dbc3">We were getting closer to my guesthouse which was two blocks away, then I stopped. I didn’t want anybody to know where I stayed. He stopped as I stopped and I turned towards him and looked high up to his face.</p><p id="898e">“Well, it’s almost there, my guesthouse. So can I say ‘Good-bye’ to you here? I don’t want anyone to know the place where I am staying.”</p><p id="5d18">“How is the internet in your country?” He, who was a young and very tall guy, was looking down me. “The Internet? I think it’s pretty good.” I had no idea what he was going to talk. He said, “So you have a boyfriend, right? Then, is it possible to upload my photo on the internet, you know, some king of a dating site? I want to marry a foreigner.”</p><p id="5fa0">“…your photo?” “Yes. Because the internet is not accessible in this country, so could you help me, please?” “So, where is your photo?” “Can you take my photo with your camera?” He pointed to my digital camera with his finger. It was the time I didn’t have a smartphone yet.</p><p id="b62b">“So, you want me to take your photo and upload it online?” “Yes, please. And I will go home.” He smiled and said, “Please! Quick, quick, photo. It’s getting dark!”</p><p id="6de1">It seemed that I had no choice. I took my camera out and looked into the viewfinder. I said to myself, “What am I doing? Why am I taking a photo of this strange man here in Cuba?”</p><p id="4f6e">He smiled even more. — How could he trust me like that? I could just delete the photo of him afterwards?</p><p id="771d">I took a couple of pictures of him, and he checked them. “That’s nice, thank you. And, my name is <i>Y, </i>I am a mulatto.” He profiled himself. “This is my phone number.” He wrote down his phone number on a slip of paper and gave it to me. “So, please upload them. Thank you very much!” — How come he wouldn’t think that I could throw this paper in a rubbish bin? The happy man turned around and walked away in the dark.</p><p id="172e">I had a sore neck because I was always looking up at the tall man’s face and looked down at the camera with which I took the smiley photos. In my hand, there was a piece of paper with his name and phone number. I put them in my bag and went back to my guesthouse.</p><p id="474f">I remembered this story of mine after one of my friends came to our house for a dinner and she talked about her experience at Immigration in Cuba.</p><p id="0ff4">She is Leban

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ese, and she was led to the second interview room at the passport check when she travelled to Cuba. The immigration officer somehow thought that she must be Chinese and asked her lots of questions.</p><p id="c5a8">After a long interview, she was finally allowed to get into Cuba and she was given his phone number. — People come and go through immigration, so it might be a good spot for the encounter.</p><p id="21bb">— And, did I upload his photos onto dating sites?</p><p id="4b8c">The fact is that my camera with which I took his pictures was stolen after my trip to Cuba; I lost all of the photos of this trip. Therefore, I could never upload his information online.</p><p id="35f4">Sorry, <i>Y</i>. This is my confession after more than ten years. Forgive me.</p><div id="57c4" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/sense-of-colour-bc2cb106044f"> <div> <div> <h2>Sense of Colour</h2> <div><h3>It differs from people to people, from place to place</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*4kf3J-ksBrzuNmCo8dZZiQ.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><div id="870b" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/simple-bar-and-sun-211df792f15a"> <div> <div> <h2>Simple Bar and Sun</h2> <div><h3>A sketch of Cuba</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*3WqCfOOuviblAUN-1vgdKw.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><div id="8834" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/are-japanese-special-people-in-asia-b0dc60ff8546"> <div> <div> <h2>Are Japanese special people in Asia?</h2> <div><h3>I always wanted to ask them, “Who do you think you are?”</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*PNO2XUEmpZOPAOe3GebeEA.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div></article></body>

Dating Photos in Cuba

A Short Story

It was in 2008 when I first went to Cuba. I was a solo-traveller and one evening I was quickly walking to get back to my accommodation after sightseeing.

I like travelling alone but I don’t like walking in a new town after sunset. I wanted to go back to my room before it got dark. The sunset was soon and I impatiently crossed at a pedestrian crossing while the light was red.

There were no cars about and when I was almost reaching the other side of the road, I heard a man’s English from behind me.

“You cannot cross while the light is red.”

I have heard him, but ignored him. I tried to pretend to have not heard his voice, but the voice still followed me.

“Hey, you cannot cross the road when the red light is on.”

I tried to walk away faster, but he walked much faster than I did and the guy came next to me. We were walking together, then.

“You can cross the red light in your country, but it is not safe in Cuba.” I couldn’t ignore him anymore and said, “Oh, really? Thank you.”

My guesthouse was located along the same street after a few blocks. I didn’t slow down and we were walking together. I didn’t look at his face, but I felt he was very tall.

“Where are you from?” he asked me. “I am Japanese, but I came from Hong Kong.” I was not sure that he had any idea where Hong Kong was. He said, “Ah, yeah? What are you doing there?” “I am working in a Japanese restaurant.” “Good. Do you have a boyfriend?”

All of his questions were something I expected; they were frequently asked questions when a woman travel alone. I answered,

“Yes, I do.” “Is he Japanese as well?” “Yes, he is.” “Oh, I see.” He sounded a bit disappointed. I thought in my mind that he should have been more disappointed.

I thought that he would have gone after I told him that I had a partner, but he wouldn’t. He continued asking questions about life and my plan in Cuba. The sky was getting dark and we were still walking at the same pace.

We were getting closer to my guesthouse which was two blocks away, then I stopped. I didn’t want anybody to know where I stayed. He stopped as I stopped and I turned towards him and looked high up to his face.

“Well, it’s almost there, my guesthouse. So can I say ‘Good-bye’ to you here? I don’t want anyone to know the place where I am staying.”

“How is the internet in your country?” He, who was a young and very tall guy, was looking down me. “The Internet? I think it’s pretty good.” I had no idea what he was going to talk. He said, “So you have a boyfriend, right? Then, is it possible to upload my photo on the internet, you know, some king of a dating site? I want to marry a foreigner.”

“…your photo?” “Yes. Because the internet is not accessible in this country, so could you help me, please?” “So, where is your photo?” “Can you take my photo with your camera?” He pointed to my digital camera with his finger. It was the time I didn’t have a smartphone yet.

“So, you want me to take your photo and upload it online?” “Yes, please. And I will go home.” He smiled and said, “Please! Quick, quick, photo. It’s getting dark!”

It seemed that I had no choice. I took my camera out and looked into the viewfinder. I said to myself, “What am I doing? Why am I taking a photo of this strange man here in Cuba?”

He smiled even more. — How could he trust me like that? I could just delete the photo of him afterwards?

I took a couple of pictures of him, and he checked them. “That’s nice, thank you. And, my name is Y, I am a mulatto.” He profiled himself. “This is my phone number.” He wrote down his phone number on a slip of paper and gave it to me. “So, please upload them. Thank you very much!” — How come he wouldn’t think that I could throw this paper in a rubbish bin? The happy man turned around and walked away in the dark.

I had a sore neck because I was always looking up at the tall man’s face and looked down at the camera with which I took the smiley photos. In my hand, there was a piece of paper with his name and phone number. I put them in my bag and went back to my guesthouse.

I remembered this story of mine after one of my friends came to our house for a dinner and she talked about her experience at Immigration in Cuba.

She is Lebanese, and she was led to the second interview room at the passport check when she travelled to Cuba. The immigration officer somehow thought that she must be Chinese and asked her lots of questions.

After a long interview, she was finally allowed to get into Cuba and she was given his phone number. — People come and go through immigration, so it might be a good spot for the encounter.

— And, did I upload his photos onto dating sites?

The fact is that my camera with which I took his pictures was stolen after my trip to Cuba; I lost all of the photos of this trip. Therefore, I could never upload his information online.