I had seen him watching me for several days. The driveway leading out of Havana’s Hotel Nacional might have been 50 yards or more, and he seemed to be standing there at the end of it every day.
El Gordo Thrives in the U.S. of A.
Back in my ill-spent youth, when I thought it was more valuable to float around the world with one bag and a double-digit bankroll rather than map out a career, I landed in Madrid during the dictatorship of Generalissimo Francisco Franco.