Perhaps because it is August and the long days of oppressive tropical sun simulate a photographic effect of a landscape overexposed. In Havana where, on my past six visits in 3-1/2 years, stark contrasts have been obvious, now few contrasts seem evident. All is worse than before. Even the glorious colonial restorations of portions of Habana Vieja do not disguise the general state of disintegration of all the tens of thousands of other edifices, housing the nearly 3 million residents in generally horrific conditions of squalor. Even the office of the City Historian admits buildings in Havana are collapsing at the appalling rate of one a day. The main arteries are lined with people, arms outstretched, trying to hail a community taxi or guagua (bus) that might squeeze in one more person. A commute to and from work – always a challenge – can take even more hours than before. Shop and office times are abbreviated to save electricity, and perhaps, most telling of an energy crisis is that air conditioning at the arrivals terminal at José Martí International Airport has been turned off until further notice. Welcome to Cuba.

Every time I’ve arrived, the process has been different. The first time, a young Customs officer in mini skirt and fishnet stockings cornered my friend and me and wrote on her clipboard our repeated answers to why we were there, where we were staying and what we planned to do. The second time, arriving with a cultural visa as a guest of the Cuban Book Institute, I was detained for bringing 50 USB thumb drives, with data on self-publishing recorded on each to give to the publishers and editors who were officially invited to attend my workshops. But even the sanction of the Ministry of Culture could not save me from two hours of bureaucratic absurdity as five functionaries wrote and transcribed my story, counted and recounted the 45 Drives ( I was permitted 5) and confiscated them securely in a large canvas sack. The Book Institute’s attorneys eventually freed them but the inconvenience to all was extraordinary, and yet “Normal.”

Subsequent arrivals included long waits at immigration, being detained at “Aduana” (customs) for declaring $75 in gifts, which cost me $27 in taxes but, moreover, more than an hour trying to pay the fee. Word to the wise: DECLARE NOTHING! (Unless you’re bringing in a big screen TV or the like). This time, there was no wait at Immigration (albeit, I was in the front of the Interjet flight from Mexico City). I was not asked for proof of health insurance, as in previous arrivals. I was asked if I wanted my US passport stamped, whereas before it was routinely not done. Then, I put my carry-on bags through the screening process and went to wait for baggage to arrive at the carousel. There are free carts and soon my 3 suitcases were wheeled through the final checkpoint, I handed in my “nothing to declare” customs forms, the magic doors slid open and there I was, back in La Habana. Seamlessly, miraculously, and likely never to happen so smoothly again.

As I chose to substitute a new iPad for the heavy MacBook Pro I usually schlep on trips, I am unfamiliar with how to use it and therefore photos may be lacking in any reports over the next few weeks here, as I catch-as-catch-can a hour at one hotel or another to access internet. Please bear with me.

Every time I arrive, I ask the taxista who drives me from the airport to “my room” at the home of my adopted family in Vedado (which everyone agrees is the best neighborhood in which to live; especially those who live there), “What is changing in Havana?” Usually, the answer is, “Nothing changes here.” This time, the driver said, “We’re in a petroleum crisis.” I knew this from the many notices and online magazines I receive, but I was unprepared for how bad it is. As if to squash any hope offered by the ‘reapproachment’.

Americans are ridiculous when they say, “Go to Cuba now, before it changes!” They lack all understanding of the depth and complexity of the almost 60 years of failed communism. Every aspect of society here needs help — from infrastructure to economic systems to distribution to access to basic medicines to, most desired: internet access. How and where would you begin to build upon rubble, when there are are no materials and little expertise? It’s is a situation of increasing despair.

And while we’d expect some disparity between prices of goods and services from those paid by locals and tourists, the disparity here is multiples of difference, and the “worth” of anything is unknown. Do not romance this beautiful island full of genuine and gracious people, as life remains extraordinarily difficult for almost everyone here.

Meanwhile, I will continue to look for signs of hope but, as of this first week back among my beloveds, I am more discouraged than on past adventures.