An adventure through glorious, neglected Cuba
Despite only a brief appearance, the hookah-smoking caterpillar in Alice in Wonderland was a significant character. Between puffs he took the time to answer questions and offer advice to someone quite confused by her environs. In Havana, Cuba, I’ve met a man of a similar disposition.
Amid chat, plumes of cigar smoke that were custard thick passed by Elias Asef’s stained teeth, skeining through what little light there was in the lounge. He was now half-way down a Hoyo de Monterrey corona cigar, first lit at the start of my tour along art-filled Hamel Alley. Here are the murals, sculptures and live music of Havana’s Afro-Cuban culture and religion (predominantly Santeria). Artist Salvador Gonzales, to whom Elias is assistant, turned this ordinary street into what is now a cultural hub and a place to “maintain the spirit of our ancestors”.
Reincarnation, divination and sacrifice are shown reverence in the art and shrines of the “house temple” in which we were sat. Outside, children were painting in workshops and dancers performed the rumba.
I was on day three of a five-day phantasmagoria, traversing each of Havana’s five centuries one a day at a time. In doing so, I was trying to understand what this perplexing city is made of as it begins to celebrate its 500-year anniversary.
Elias offers a final line in caterpillar-style counsel before my saunter through Havana’s 1700s continues elsewhere: “Enjoy my country, but don’t try to understand it.” It’s true that Havana today is as contradictory as ever: loveable and difficult, glorified and neglected, thriving and crumbling.
It has world-class hospitals and woeful supermarkets; musicians earn more than doctors; the Lada is a coveted car. And while most Habaneros live on the equivalent of $30 a month, they are educated, vivacious and proud.
Take a look at the city’s melting-pot history and things begin to make sense. It starts with the Spanish conquistadors, who used Havana as a convening point for the royal fleet’s navigation of the surrounding Caribbean.
The forts they built to protect their cargo still stand to this day – a permanent reminder of Cuba’s resistance to interlopers. The marvellous Morro Castle is a must see, not least because it provides superlative views of the city.
The exact spot upon which the city was founded is located at the northeastern corner of the Plaza de Armas, or main square. When you find the ‘magic’ ceiba tree in front of El Templete (a miniature temple built to celebrate Havana’s first mass), you’ll know you’re in the right place. Walk around it three times and make a wish.
Around the plaza there are book vendors taking shade under jagüey trees, while stilted conga dancers bring music, colour and cheer. In the far corner, the coral-stone new baroque of the City Museum is a ballsy example of the colonial architecture Havana’s Old Town is famous for.
A short walk away is the Plaza Vieja, which my mega-brain guide describes as, “Possibly the best example of Cuban domestic architectural style”. And yet for years it was a car park. Restored to its former glory when Havana was inscribed as a Unesco World Heritage Site in the 90s, one can now marvel at its colonial colonnades, geometric stained glass and pastel façades.
You don’t have to travel far to get a taste of the Old Town’s infamous crumble, though. A masterclass in faded grandeur, it’s as enchanting as it is tragic. As much as 70 per cent of the buildings here are empty with many internally split by makeshift mezzanines.
This mix of stucco and decay beguiles. Here is Cuba’s story writ, chiselled and cleaved large. Uninterrupted cultural and historical immersion is a total given. I can think of very few cities where that time-travelling privilege is still offered.
Even better is to walk these streets at night. They have the thrilling feeling of a dangerous alley from your favourite movie, while actually being safe. Jazz, salsa or – if you’re unlucky – bachata will soundtrack your trot, while ubiquitous classic American cars gurgle past, glimmering in filmic tungsten and occasional neons.
Promisingly, I noticed a number of building sites behind branded Habana500 heras fencing. Perhaps the biggest revamp project – finished for the celebrations – is the grandiose Capitolio on the Passeo de Martí, where guided tours are affecting enough to stir even Boris’s inner socialist.
I stayed over the road in what is widely thought of as Havana’s best small hotel, the Saratoga. Working your way through a bottle of Havana Club 7 and a comedy-sized cigar on its roof-top terrace is a fine way to do luxury lounging – not least because you have the Capitolio in full view.
If smoking a cheroot appeals, be sure to seek out the unassuming Conde de Villanueva hotel – 100 metres from Hotel Raquel on Amagura – whose surreptitious cigar room is a dark-wood, dimly lit delight.
In the years leading up to the Revolution, it appeared as if Havana would become a permanent centre for vices. At one time there were 100,000 sex workers in and around the city’s casinos and hotels, while the Mob ran things via the infamous Meyer Lanksy and puppet president Batista. At the same time, 80 per cent of the land was owned by Americans.
My favourite Revolution story concerns Fidel Castro defying America by opening the world’s biggest ice-cream parlour. When the US trade embargo took hold in the 60s, Cuba’s milk supply dried up.
Castro, who’s known to have loved ice-cream and milkshakes, tried to breed a cow that would survive in Cuba’s tropical heat. While this largely failed, Coppelia – a 1,000 seat ice-cream cathedral – opened nonetheless, producing Russian-milk sundaes of singular quality. Having recently undergone a refurbishment it’s back to its best. Their speciality is the five-scoop Ensalada. Do it like Castro and order three.
As one local put it, “Havana without the Revolution would have turned into Las Vegas or Monaco.” Political morality aside, it’s safe to say the Revolution put Havana in aspic. While its stonework is friable, the culture and quirks of this wonderland city are magically preserved.
On the future of the city, one local assured me that “things are relaxing”. Cuba is steadily opening, loosening and progressing in a way the West understands. At the same time, a generation of young people crave greater access to property, phone data and travel.
One street artist I met who was keen on making his voice heard is 24-year old Fabian Lopez (who goes by 2 + 2 = 5). Walk through the resuscitated San Isidro area and you’ll be hard pushed to miss his controversial balaclava man. “This is a person outside of society, not allowed to speak certain messages,” he told me.
Once lit red, the area is now the cradle of a burgeoning art scene. It hosted its first street art festival recently, the fruits of which are permanent and, for the most part, pretty. The scene’s beating heart is the east-London-looking Galleria Taller Gorria, whose owner was busy preparing for Havana’s Biennale when I visited.
As Cubans gain greater access to the world beyond their shores, so we gain greater access to them. The combination points in one direction: a rapidly changing Havana. In many respects this will be a good thing, but there’s no doubt that with “relaxation” will come dilution. The upshot? Go now and enjoy Elias’s country while you can. But don’t try to make sense of it.
Do it yourself:
Damien was a guest of In Cloud 9 (incloud9.com, +44 7801 974265), which specialises in bespoke journeys to Cuba. Their exclusive six-night, Havana 500 itinerary starts from £1,950 per person, staying at the Kempinski hotel. The itinerary includes luxury transport and full-time specialist guides. He was also a guest of Hotel Saratoga where rooms start from £263 per night, (hotel-saratoga.com, +53 7 868 1000)