Flipping through my sketchbooks a little while after the travelling is over is always educational. I often wish I had stopped more frequently to capture a landscape, activity, detail. But my feet have a tendency to wander, wanting to cram in more and more of the new and wondrous, overriding my hands’ desires to sketch and paint what I am passing by.

I truly, honestly hate to admit this, but I left Cuba with a sense of relief. I had let the hustling get to me, and I knew it. The worst part? I also knew I had missed out on creating a connection with probably the most passionate people I had travelled among to date. And I loath myself for it.