It's A Grifter's Life

Well, neither of us had a good feeling about the guy from the start, but neither of us did anything about it.  Oh, it's not like he was a problem -- in fact, part of it was interesting, until it got awkward.

We came out of the low exit of El Morro and headed to a nearby restaurant that received positive comments from the people at the Hotel Nacional, and our cab driver of the previous day.  

A Cuba fellow -- early 30s would be my guess -- came up to us and engaged us in conversation.  When he found out Carol spoke decent Spanish, he engaged her in conversation, walking with us to the restaurant -- which of course was either closed for the day, or not open yet, even though it was around noon. 

Cuban Flowers in, you know, Cuba

Goats and sheep roadside in Havana

So he offered to walk us to another nearby paradar, talking as we walked.  Carol tried to shake him, but our basic politeness (it's a problem -- for people from the Northeast, we can be too nice) didn't allow us to do it.  

We finally arrived at the paradar (we walked over eleven miles this day, so a lot of turf was covered).  He got us a table, and then joined us.  He said he only wanted a beer, but there was so much food on our plates that we allowed him to have some -- which he scarfed down hungrily.  

Finally, it was time to go, so he got us a taxi -- we made it clear we were heading back to the hotel to meet some friends (we weren't, yet, but that was our story and we were sticking to it).  As he was saying goodbye, he basically told Carol to give him money -- and she did, just to get him gone.

Ah well -- $20 CUCs to a grifter wasn't like a major problem, or a hold-up/crime.  It was just something I should have stopped.  At first I thought he was interested in talking with an American, but it was obviously more than that.  

No harm done, lesson learned.