In Cuba, there is a question that you couldn't evade: "Would you like to buy a cigar?" Since my return, there is a question that I haven't evaded: "Did you bring back any cigars?"

And such is the cultural phenomenon of the Cuban cigar. In Old Havana, the Cuban people would sell the world famous tobacco products illegally through their homes after stealing them from the cigar factories that they worked at.

The process was very entertaining to our group, especially as consumers. We were on the English Hemingway in Cuba trip and many of us, in fact, brought back some cigars since customs did allow us to have two boxes, or 50 cigars, without declaring them. One box of many of the name brands such as Montecristo, Cohiba, and Romeo y Julieta that would sell for hundreds of dollars in a store could be found for very cheap prices. Not everybody bought their cigars on the black market, but this was the only option for those of us who wanted name brand cigars for a cheap price.

The actual purchase of this illegal contraband could be very intimidating. Finding someone to sell us a cigar wasn't very difficult, we just had to walk around for a few minutes and let our natural tourist aura get stopped by a young entrepreneur trying to make a few cherished American dollars. We'd get stopped nearly every block by somebody trying to cash in. Cuban men loved to flirt with our women and making hissing noises at them, but to guys like me, we were prime targets to buy cigars. Their limited English vocabulary went something like this: "Do you like Cigar? I have Cohiba, very cheap, very good. I work in factory." It was laughable to us by the end of the trip how this system worked, but at first we were a bit shocked by the straightforwardness of the Cuban people. Once finding a seller, we had to be discreet. With Cuban government military officers standing on the corner of every few blocks, the Cubans couldn't be discovered associating with us. But once you did get to their house, the cigars would be pulled out of a backpack and the bartering would begin. In my experience, there were two guys who took us to the home. We reluctantly went in and they closed the door behind us. The room itself was very rundown and dirty with a rusted out dumbbell on the ground and a cheap T.V. that didn't look like it could possibly work anymore. My heart raced as I looked around the room nervously‹I didn't want to get killed, but I also worried about the consequences of getting caught and being thrown in a Cuban jail, never to see my family again. Neither option appealed to me. I think I would've rather been finished off quickly.

There was a third guy who apparently worked all day in the factory making the cigars. He had two duffel bags that were stuffed with whatever he could get. After a few minutes of squabbling, we settled on what we wanted and were very impressed with the goods‹I got a box of 25 authentic Cohiba's. I paid more then I wanted to, but I was worried that if I didn't buy anything, I'd get mugged or beaten.This wasn't the case, either. The guy also had authentic stickers that he could put on the box, but when he had to go into the back room and get those, we were worried that he'd come back with a gun or a knife, but these guys had done this before and it was perfectly natural for them.

After double checking the street, our vendors told us that we were safe to leave, but I was still worried that I'd get stopped by someone who could see my cigars that I was carrying. My roommate on the trip, senior Nick Druhn and I realized that we weren't going to get caught, but the rush was still there for a while after we'd gotten back. It was one of the more unique parts of the Cuban culture that we were exposed to.

So to answer your question, yes, I do have cigars.