Fireflies (A PewdieCry fanfic.)

Chapter 1 (Ryan)

Fireflies

A PewdieCry fanfic

By:SilenttPrincess98

 Chapter 1:

The colorful Cuban buildings had started to get visible as the boat approached the port. Ryan was standing by the gate, with his brown leather backpack on his back and his professional camera hung on his neck. He constantly raised himself on the tip of his toes, excitedly trying to see more of the new place. Around him there were people, most of them Mexicans, but there were white Americans scattered around too.

People said, that Cuba was a special place. Special, because as they say, once you step on the land, it's like you're instantly tranferred to another era. It's said that it feels like you suddenly jump into the 1930s, or the 1950s, or somewhere around. They say that there is a kind of energy, some magic, that makes you feel lost between space and time, between eras, between years and decades. And Ryan was hoping that it  was true, since that was one of the reasons who triggered his interest towards this trip.

Besides the whole lost between eras and magical energy thing, another reason on why Ryan wanted to go on a trip to Cuba was the sense of adventure. Cuba wasn't far from his homeland, USA. The only thing that separated them were a few miles of water, actually. It was indeed an adventure though, since the two countries didn't have the best relations for a very long time (due to a handful of reasons irrelavant to the story), and thus, Americans weren't allowed to visit Cuba. Well, until now.

Ryan might was legally boarding on the country, but it surely gave you a feeling of adventure, being able to visit a land that has for long been forbidden. It was indeed a feeling of excitement Ryan had never experienced before. It was a rush of adrenaline, a thought that made his stomach upside down. Maybe that's how Eva felt when she bit that apple, he thought to himself. If that's so, I would surely had biten the damn apple too.  And Cuba was a little like a forbidden apple. Or so it felt.

Soon enough, he was able to set his two feet on the land and see the port for himself. Everything was old looking and smelled of rust. It was old, but at the same time, instead of dead, alive. It was as if all the years that had obviously passed on the buildings, instead of making them ugly, made them unique and more alive than ever.

Ryan took another look around, at the houses and the people and the atmosphere. Then he went back to reality. He needed a vehicle to take him to his hotel.  He rented a hoodless red buick right from the 1950s. It felt like he was a king in there, Elvis Presley or something like that.  All of the cars he had seen so far were from the '50s and '60s, nothing more modern. It was really something else.

He had all his papers checked and then drove towards a less crowded road. He stopped by the side of the street, where he took his map of Havana out of his backpack and opened it, trying to locate his hotel. (Nope, no google maps here. Internet connection is either too slow or too expensive).

It did took him a while to find the hotel. People walking past the car either ignored him completely or watched him interested and curiously as they passed. The car was hoodless anyways and he was visible to everyone. 

Ryan crossed his legs, right over left and looked at the map better. The hotel he had picked to book a room in, was placed in the very center of Havana. Money had never been a problem for him, since he came from a wealthy family. And anyways, central hotels in Cuba were  much much cheaper than in New York or London, or Paris....obviously. He sighed and started to read the icons drawn on the map, trying to decipher the shapes.