It’s my last full day in Cuba. Gwanz and I are preparing to head to Callejon de Hamel to view the show that’s performed every Sunday and to follow through with our previous plans: finding a “babalawo” for a reading. It was a short ride to Callejon de Hamel, but a sweet one. We are approached by a guy that leads us into a bar, suggests a drink that is mostly watered down, but delicious, and suggests that we purchase a CD/DVD of the performances that he has recorded in the square. We respectfully decline and instead,  ...