AVING spent three decades writing about and enjoying the occasional Havana cigar, I really should be beyond being surprised. Cuba is a land of paradox and curiosity: think , add the Land of Oz and for good measure have it re-written by Kafka. The sheer roulette wheel-like sense of chance keeps me interested and on my toes. The last thing that I anticipate from the island paradise of Cuba is consistency: and, therefore, just when I am least expecting
