I love Cuba. The place reeks of sun and mangoes, mystery and tobacco and sex. Cubans eat icecream like we drink long blacks and rum is as cheap as bottled water.
Cuba is like nowhere else. When you arrive at Customs they don't mark your passport. It's a security thing to protect anyone who might get beef from US customs, but if you're a pasty little dweeb from Christchurch and you ask, they're happy to punch a pink stamp on to a back page for you to boast to your friends.
Under US law, Americans can't holiday in Cuba. Even with the no-stamping thing, few Yankees try it - it's just not worth the hassle.
You can't even book flights to Cuba online if your computer's IP address is in the States.
But if post-revolution life in Cuba was perfect, you'd think they'd celebrate it a bit more. Cuba's education and healthcare systems are incredible, but in Havana and Santiago, Government billboards still say things like "Patria o Muerte" (Homeland or Death).