During my amble in Havana on day 1 – literally within an hour or two of landing – I passed by what seemed to be a department store. I entered. Despite many Cubans telling me I looked like a Cuban – always referring my face and my skin, often specifically the color of my skin – clearly I stood out like a sore thumb. The store was maybe a 1000 square feet, probably less – the size of an HDB flat in Singapore. As I entered, I noted things arranged in a short of horse-shoe. It started with mayonnaise and other condiments on my right, food stuff, other stuff a freezer with drinks, and then on the left it ended with toys. There was a TV just before the toys and I was not sure if it was for sale or for displaying prices or something. You would pass by, now and then, little windows serving as outlets for the home behind, serving "pizza", exceptionally unappealing hot dogs and burgers etc. Except for the delectable, juicy fruit that I started having as breakfast later on in my trip, nothing in the island suggested a wealth of materials, or even if in dearth, health and substance.
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