Many have said that to get to know a city on a deeper level, one should make friends with the locals. But it’s not easy for everybody, especially for those who are brought up in a society that’s brainwashed with the idea that strangers are not to be trusted. Even for a rebel like me, it’d be too outrageous to talk to some queer-looking guys in the streets, but if you’re finding somewhere to start, a restaurant can be your place to be. That’s where I met my local friends in Trinidad, a well-preserved colonial town in Cuba.

Even if you’re not the type of person who looks for restaurant recommends on trip advisor, you’d be regret not to do it in Cuba. The food quality and price vary a lot that you don’t want to take that risk. Thinking about asking the locals? I did and they took me to an overly-priced restaurant that they could get a commission from. After a few taps and scrolling, I picked Sol y Son to be my lunch spot, a family-owned restaurant housed in an artistic 1830s home.

The restaurant was very quiet that afternoon, with only a few customers. Seated at a table by the inner courtyard, I was presented the menu by Yoran, a young, sturdy waiter who asked me a question he’d probably throw it to every foreigner. “Where are you from?” It turned out Hong Kong was one of the countries he’s been dreaming of traveling to. “Why?” I was intrigued by his excitement. “I read about it on the Internet. It’s modern, with advanced technology. I love technology though we may be one of the poorest countries in the world.” He told me how his friend attempted to make his own airplane with bottles of pesticide, ruining miles of corn plantation and resulting in 5 years of imprisonment. Small chats became meaningful conversations that involved the pros and cons of technological enhancement; the differences between Cantonese and Mandarin; and the lives of Cuban people.

After downing a shot of banana liqueur offered with the check, I brought up the idea of going to Disco Ayala that night, a one-of-a-kind nightclub housed in a natural cave. A Spanish friend I met in Havana insisted that I should visit this place even if I was alone. And of course, I didn’t want to go to a party by myself. That’s part of the reason I mentioned it because I was pretty sure Cuban people would love to show me the best of their town. I was right.

It was 11:25pm when I woke up from my nap, realizing I set my alarm wrong. Luckily, I still had 5 minutes before meeting Yoran. I dressed myself up as soon as I could and ran to Sol y Son. We greeted with a firm handshake and a kiss on the cheek (this is how Cuban people do it) before setting off to the club, which was situated on the outskirt of town. To get there, we needed to walk pass Plaza Mayor, the thriving heart of Trinidad where the police were always on duty. Two of them stopped Yoran and asked for his identification card. In this communist country, there’s an outrageous law restraining local people from talking to foreigners, let alone hanging out with them. Yoran seemed to be at ease during the interrogation while I freaked out that he’s going to get caught because of me.

Fortunately, we made it to the entrance of Ayala. Unlike any other tourist spots, locals are required to pay the same entrance fee (5CUC including a drink) like everybody else. Descending a flight of stone steps and walking through a tunnel, I was astonished by the mesmerizing party scene: vast dance floors lit up by vibrant color lights bouncing off stalactites; electronic and salsa music blasting out at full volume; young crowds showing off their best moves with a mojito or beer in hand. A previous dancer for the government, Yoran introduced me to his friends, who are all perfect dancers, and taught me a few salsa steps. It’s one of the greatest parties in my life.

Finishing off the night with a few slices of pizza and more beers in a local restaurant at around 4am, I hugged Yoran and his friends good night. “I’ll see you again when I come back” and “let me know when you come to Hong Kong so I can show you around” were the things that I’d like to say but I couldn’t. Deep down I knew it’s very unlikely that I’d travel more than 20 hours to this country again soon or they’d be able to leave their country ever.

For the friends that I met in Cuba, thank you for everything, take care and I wish you all the best in life.