"I never ever feel so connected to my Judaism as when I'm here in Cuba."

It was the first morning of our MJCCA mission, so we wasted no time taking in the Jewish sights of Cuba: Jesus of Havana, the Christmas tree at San Francisco Church, and the strangely baby-less Manger in the plaza.

In between those, we did also manage to sneak a peek at Shevet Achim -- the first synagogue in Cuba, built in1914 by Sephardic Jews fleeing the Ottoman Empire, but now no longer in operation. It was a little bit of a challenge finding it, as well as navigating around the acres of wet concrete being slathered all over Old Havana.

We took in the recently redone Plaza Vieja (where they paved a parking lot, and put up what they hope will be a tourist paradise). Manuel took us by a rations store, where he explained how the Cuban government allocates food to all its citizens. The only customers we saw, however, were Cuban-born Jim and honorary Cuban Mario going in to collect their hourly ration of cigar.

We also saw the hotel where Atlantan Jimmy Carter had stayed recently, the bar where Atlantan Ted Turner had gone less recently (since the photo shows him still with Jane), and the corner apartment where non-Atlantan Ernest Hemingway once lived. Can you detect a bias in my reporting?

During our walking tour, we encountered various people of interest: the Baal Koreh (Torah reader) from the Patronato Synagogue, the elderly gentleman who seemed to follow us everywhere hawking the newspaper Granma, and my personal favorite: the unflattering guerilla caricaturist. And let's not forget our unplanned entertainment: the strong-voiced, vigorous, (okay I'll say it) mannish singer who "serenaded" us during lunch at the Plaza de Artisanias.

But somehow, in all this, it didn't sink in for everyone right away that we were really and truly in Cuba. That only happened when Shaindle, our Camp Director Extraordinaire, finally switched over from yelling "Maher!" to yelling "Andale!"

After lunch, Arnaldo drove us to the Patronato, a synagogue built in 1953 with a distinctive arch, beautifully renovated in recent years and now home to a thriving, young Conservative Jewish community.

Appropriately enough, our first steps into the synagogue were to deliver part of the over $1 million in aid our group members had collected for Cuban Jews. Then it was over into the community room (or as I call it, the "Buena Vista Social Hall"), for a small, intimate one-on-twenty-four with local leader Adela Dworin. Adela wove for us a tale of the original turn-of-the-century Jewish immigrants, who'd called the island "Hotel Cuba" because they weren't planning to stay long. She told us of the difficulties of maintaining Jewish life there under Castro until things began to open up in the early 90s. But she also conveyed some of the specialness of Cuban Jews, who came in from as far as two hours away - by bicycle - to see "Schindler's List"; whose mikveh is the beach; and who sincerely believe that "Kaplan" means "Mitsubishi" in Hebrew.

Also speaking to us was Dr. Rose Behar, who didn't make aliyah when she had the chance in 1963, in order to stay and be a doctor in Cuba - and thank God for the Cubans! We met with Simon Goldstein, from B'nai Brith of Cuba (for many of us, our first meeting in years with a B'nai Brith official that didn't end in a solicitation). Together with them we sang a rousing rendition (music courtesy of D.J. Jack) of "Belz, Mein Shtetle Belz" and "Az Der Rebbe Est."

We concluded with a quick peek inside Dr. Behar's amazing pharmacy, which has saved and improved countless lives in the scant ten years it's been up and running.

Next up on our itinerary was a stop at the Centro Sepharadi, a synagogue built in the 1950s, but used by the government until 1994, when the community got it back. There, the synagogue's volunteer treasurer, Tamara, told the group about the adult Sunday school they run there, as well as the 100-year-old Torah scrolls from Europe that several b'nai mitzvah have read from in the past few years. We concluded our visit with a mincha service, led by Mario.

Back to the hotel, where we once again had the chance to enjoy our "liberation," and did so in much the same fashion as on Monday. Rav Mario, working overtime, taught what was (hopefully) his first Torah lesson in a bar. Over Hebrew texts and mojitos, we talked about the parallels between the opening chapter of Exodus and our own momentous journey beginning that week. We laughed at Sheryl's comparison between Pharaoh and another, more recent "nationalizer"… until we noticed the wait staff eyeing us. We cut down on the laughing, and began to eyeball the bar for hidden cameras.

That night, Arnaldo drove us deep into stately Miramar for our specially planned night at the Macumba Club. It was our first encounter with a pleasant Cuban custom: the "welcome drink." We partook of a sumptuous dinner in our own private dining room, enjoying the restaurant's policy of "all-you-can-eat-if-you-can-find-the-waiter-again." Then it was through the lavish courtyard, past the elegant swimming pool, and into the fully "party-equipped" lounge, for the much-anticipated Macumba show, starting promptly at 9:30….10:30…10:45… okay, 11:15, but that's my final offer.

In any event, the ten minutes we saw were great, as was the bottle of Havana Club each table took home with them. In good spirits at the end of a full and exciting day, that rum seemed the only fortification we'd need for the long drive ahead of us tomorrow. That, and a fully operational bathroom. Hold that thought…