“Ever since I met you all that I seem to do is dream wonderful dreams, Heaven's before my eyes, when will I realize my dreams, wonderful dreams? The skies will all be blue, When my dreams come true, And I'll be smiling through, When my dreams come true, That Spanish castle I build in my mind, Will be your love nest, the practical kind, And I'll be there with you, When my dreams come true…”

So there she was, José Martí international airport, standing in an eternal row to exchange last minute withdrawn Euros to currency that wasn't acknowledged pretty much anywhere else in the the world, feeling like a well chewed gum sweating from the humidity and sudden rain shower that broke out. Tired and already annoyed because of a lost transport voucher, uncertain of what is awaiting her.

Her eleven year old self stumbled upon a picture in a magazine that she couldn't tear her eyes away from. She eventually cuts the picture out and pins it to her inspirational board staring at the beautiful place before she goes to bed for months to come.

She finally gave up her attempts to sleep more. By 5 o'clock in the morning they were strolling the still dark and empty streets of old Havana. When they got to the Plaza de San Francisco, the night started to turn into day and she burst out in tears touched by this indescribable force in the core of her existence.

"I say don't go, it's too risky!" pleads her mother on the phone following up a news article she came across on Czech internet informing about sudden tropical storm that resulted in three dead, number of buildings collapsing and streets of Havana flooded.

"Yes, me and my neighbor were trying to direct the water from our houses. We even lifted our fridge up so it wouldn't get flooded. When the lightening hit only meters away from us, my neighbor threw his shovel away shouting he doesn't want to get killed" laughs their guide Ricardo when she asks him abut the recent floods she read about just a few days ago. "But the rain is gone now as you see, the sun is shining, it always does eventually" he adds.

It was an early spring of 2005 and she entered a salsa club in Granada, Spain. Drawing a lot of attention from the locals and Latin American men, she and her girlfriends are persistently asked to dance. But she refuses, she can't dance salsa.

Sipping on a mojito in Casa de la Música surrounded by tens of luscious women in dresses shorter than short scanning every man around then in a vain hope to get a ticket out of their Cuban life; she glances at him and asks if he wants to dance. They are playing live salsa music.

She was getting more and more nervous. Trying to listen to her instincts on a plane full of tourists is not an easy thing to do. The captain announces delay because of worn out tires that need to be exchanged. Was this the final sign that she shouldn't go?

It was October 2009 and her best friend Gabi was celebrating her birthday in a vibrant Prague hotspot La Bodegita del Medio. They were drinking overpriced mojitos with colorful umbrellas, laughing and having fun like the careless youth does.

"I am not tempted to go inside" she turns to him. It is not even midday and the real La Bodegita del Medio in Havana is packed with tourists. So they end up in equally touristic but less busy Floridita ordering a daiquiri for lunch. Sweet life.

To be continued...