With no death dreams that night I woke up refreshed and ready for the 9am breakfast in which the flies from yesterday had informed their kin which made it very tedious trying to eat. Showering and getting dressed, Matt was suffering from lack of sleep (possibly still catching up with him from Trinidad) so we hung about in the microclimate of the room while we planned out the day. Finding out that there was actually very little interesting to do in Havana, we decided to head towards the Plaza Vieja which, according to the Lonely Planet guide, had some neat curios hidden away.
I woke up this morning having dreamt about being stabbed in the mouth by a women with a maze tattooed on her face; suffice to say it took the fruit, bread and coffee breakfast before I was firmly back in normality and sure I wasn't dead. My designs for a device that shot flies with lasers was refined with Matt and I constantly barraged by the annoying insects. The shower in the casa was little more than a pipe extending from the wall in a wet-room, however it trumped all the other showers I had experienced in Cuba by actually spewing hot water rather than the tepid or at best, lukewarm the others had managed.
A busy morning benefited from an early start wherein Matt and I knocked back a spartan breakfast, organised details of the casa with Madeline and settled the very reasonable bill for the casa which included five nights stay and breakfast and evening meals. We were then picked up by Matt's preferred taxi driver, the one who ferried him to and from Cassilda the past few nights who had the added benefit of being remarkably punctual. During the journey to the beach I continued to wrestle with the decision on whether to dive or not: whether to push and give it one last try or to simply resign it to the list of activities I had tried and disliked. I wished for divine intervention to relieve me of having to make the decision but it was to no avail and we arrived at the beach and the dive hut in plenty of time.
Waking up late I busied myself by packing in readiness to leave Trinidad tomorrow as well as shaving. With the morning slipping away and not knowing when he had returned to the casa, I woke Matt up at half past nine for breakfast then we set about trying to organise transport to Havana; something Matt was reluctant to do given how good a time he was having. We found the bus station thanks to a perky, English speaking tour operator but after much debate, decided on a taxi from our Casa at three o'clock tomorrow afternoon giving plenty of time to bid farewell at the beach. With no accommodation booked for Havana (the domineering lady from Holguin had ceased her phone-calls at Sancti Spiritus) we unsuccessfully tried to convince the tour operator to organise us some, pro-bono of course.
Waking up after 0730, Matt recounted his short evening with the Germans at the CdlM after which we had a now standard breakfast and headed towards the beach. Slightly later than usual we were "forced" to catch a real taxi (read: one less likely to induce death e.g. coco-taxis) which turned out to be a modern, air-conditioned people carrier crossed with a tank. The ride to the beach was swift meaning we got to the dive hut in time to catch Leo. He impressed upon me that he would examining me during the morning dive and filling in the paperwork for the course I was apparently taking; this was probably also due to an inspection taking place of the dive hut and associated divers which made everyone involved slightly twitchy.