The Canadian government removed the "72 hours before" PCR test requirement just before our return flight from Cuba. But it replaced it with a "one day before" rapid test. Now we did discover we could get this at the medical clinic in our town rather than have to travel into Havana and get it at the International Hospital there.
We were told this could be paid for by credit card. We actually went the week before to make sure of this and get an appointment. Now, if "day" meant day, then there was no issue, but if day meant "24 hours", we were in trouble. My lawyer's mind kicked in. If they said 72 hours in one instance rather than 3 days and said day in the other, rather than 24 hours, then the 2 distinct designations had to be different.
Our scheduled flight was 3pm on a Tuesday. The medical clinic closed at 3:30 Monday and did not reopen until 8:30am Tuesday morning. But we had to be on the road from our town to the airport two hours away no later than 10am Tuesday in order to make the 3 hour before flight requirement. And as nothing happens on schedule in Cuba, we would have been SOL.
The doctor wasn't 100 percent convinced of my legal argument uttered in faltering Spanish, but she understood our dilemma. She marked on the form 3:10pm for our Monday test, which we had actually had at 9am.
But, before we got to that hurdle, we had to pay in advance by credit card as we had been advised. However, to do that we had to use our cell phone to access a QR code. But our phones use WIFI. We have no mobile data. There was no WIFI at the clinic. Fortunately, the doctor, seeing my despair, offered me her own phone to access the payment method.
We were picked up by our taxi the next day on time, but 20 minutes from the airport we got a flat tyre! Luckily, there was a gas station around the corner and we actually squeaked in just ahead of the 3 hour deadline. I checked my bag, as I always do, because I have a metal collapsible music stand in it. We were all checked in and ready to settle in for our two hour wait, but we discovered that there no beer in the airport to have with our sandwich!!!
Eventually boarding was announced and we are about to enter the bridge to the plane when I heard in a strong Cuban accent "Paul Stuart Rapsey report to customs". Panic. Off I go after telling my partner to go on without me if need be. Down to customs I rushed.
In Cuban style, no one greets you or acknowledges you or tells you why you are there, But I notice my checked bag sitting there on the floor outside a mysterious doorway. The plane is boarding. Time passes. Eventually, they call me in and ask me to open my suitcase . They make a mess of it and discover the music stand. They ask what it is. I show them the fiddle case I am carrying with me. They smile, shake their head, make some notations on a form and tell me to go. I hastily re-stuff my formerly neatly packed bag and run. They thought it might be a bomb!
