Even thumbing a ride is government controlled in Castro-land, but people think that's been imposed on them by the U.S. embargo.

HAVANA — Four days of consecutive thunderstorms had given the air in the capital of this socialist island nation a soupy consistency. At mid-afternoon, it was nearly 100 degrees, and humidity was nearly 100 percent.

This wasn't the greatest weather for standing around on the street. But in the Miramar district of Havana, there were a lot of people doing just that.

"I've been waiting for about an hour, but no cars are going my way," said Yolanda Gutierrez, a university student in her mid-20s.

Gutierrez and about a dozen other Cubans were standing at one of Havana's puntos amarillos—Spanish for "yellow points"—the waiting areas where Cubans can engage in the nationalized hitchhiking system.

That's right, in Cuba, hitchhiking is public transportation, and in that it is a perfect reflection of both the fatalism and resilience that characterize this society.

Workers in yellow uniforms were trying to keep everything organized, but nobody was having much luck catching a ride.

"It's a very economical means of travel, and you definitely have some interesting experiences along the way. But ultimately, it's really inconvenient," said Gutierrez, a look of bored resignation crossing her face.

When you come upon one of these yellow points, you pay a government worker 25 centavos of a Cuban peso (roughly 1 U.S. cent) if you're staying in the same province, or three Cuban pesos (11 cents) if the trip is trans-provincial. The official then has a conversation with the government vehicles that are required by law to stop if people are waiting, asks them where they're going, and places passengers accordingly.

I was going to Cojimar, the sleepy, riverside village where Ernest Hemingway wrote The Old Man and the Sea. From the Miramar district of Havana, it's about a 12 mile journey. I was reluctant to travel a long distance on my first try.