Authentic Havana
(Originally published in National Geographic Traveler Latin America)
In La Habana Vieja, a blind man sings songs in a beautiful voice outside the Bodegita del Medio, Hemingway’s old haunt, while tourists pose with Che Gueverra berets and fat cigars, and street hustlers shout offers of everything from cheap Cohibas to cheap women. Growth in tourism – now Cuba’s second-biggest foreign dollar earner – has had a big impact on the Caribbean’s sparkling city.
The past ten years have seen the once-crumbling historic heart of Habana Vieja spruced into pretty, pastel-painted perfection, thanks to restoration work by historian Eusebio Leal, giving visitors a sense of how rich this merchant town, whose port heaved with slaves from Africa and ships fat with riches from New Spain, and the pirates who came after their booty, must once have been.
But not all of Habana has been prettied up for tourists. Despite the facelift, much of the city still has a rough feel, the stopped-in-time charm that makes it so alluring. It’s not just the chugging 1950s Chevvy’s that pry up and down the famous waterfront Malecon. Wander a few streets back from the main tourist beat, and you’re stepping back into a world where time stood still fifty years ago, when Fidel and his barbudos stormed down from the mountains and took over the city from Batista’s fleeing government. The buildings lean dangerously, propped by wooden stakes under balustrades; broken windowpanes stay broken, shutters stay knocked out or in, wooden doors rot, and marble staircases slump from centuries of use. The buildings are so decrepit, it’s almost a surprise to see movement in them, yet these dead and dying structures are crammed with life. Windows and doors open directly onto the narrow, dusty streets, where people sit in rocking chairs chatting and competing with the roar of a TV blasting reggaeton, or the nightly fix of the nation’s telenovela addiction. Wherever you look there’s a face looking back at you, someone throwing a key on a rope to the street below, a grandmother lifting a child up to peer out through a grate, a young man doing sit-ups on a rooftop.
And while government policies do their best to separate Cubans from tourists (the system of two currencies, for example, means most Cubans can’t afford to eat or drink where foreigners do), it’s still possible to get to know authentic Habana – if you know where to look. Habaneros are curious and welcoming. Walk past an impromptu salsa party and you’ll probably be invited in, or offered a cup of thick, sweet Cuban coffee brewed by a friendly neighbor.
Five decades of communism and a strict US trade embargo have kept the encroaches of consumerism at bay – still no MacDonald’s or Starbucks in sight – though regular rumours of ailing ex-leader Fidel’s demise and hopes for a softening of US policy under the new Obama government in the US, mean it’s anyone’s guess how long Cuba’s time-warp will last. Which is even more reason to visit now.
Wandering between the beautifully restored plazas in Habana Vieja is a great way to get a sense of the city’s former splendor. Plaza de la Catedral, dominated by the beautiful church built by Jesuits in the 1700s, in my opinion, is the prettiest and most atmospheric – best seen at nighttime, preferably while sipping a mojito at one of the alfresco tables in the Restaurante El Patio, housed in the old baroque Palacio de los Marqueses de Aguas Claras, while being serenaded by the live band playing Cuban classic songs.
But if you want to get a sense of the city’s real heartbeat, head to the Callejon de Hamel, the psychedelically-muralled street in Centro Habana, which on Sunday afternoons pulses with the sounds of rumba, as drummers pound out raw, hypnotic Afro-Cuban beats, onlookers join in the chanting, and couples take centre stage for elaborate and increasingly frenetic dances.
Not just tourists visit the Museo de la Revolucion – you’ll find it full of Cubans, students and families alike – boning up on the history of the Revolution, housed inside the former Presidential Palace. There are life-sized Che and Fidel mannequins, blood-stained military uniforms and black and white photographs of the bearded, brave young revolutionaries. In the garden out back, glassed-in and under 24 hour guard, is the Granma, the 18m pleasure yacht on which Castro and 81 other revolutionaries launched their revolution from Tuxpan, Mexico, in December 1956.
After checking out the Museo de la Revolucion, take a walk along the broad, tree-lined Prado (Paseo de Marti), which in the 1770s was the place to be seen, as the well-shod young ladies of Habana society took their daily carriage rides along the mansion-lined street, stopping to speak to suitors along the way. Today it’s lined with touts and artists selling their works, and the mansions are mostly crumbling, but you can easily get a sense of the grandeur that must once have been.
At the top of the Prado is the Parque Central, where locals gather to argue about the latest baseball scores, and whether the local Industriales team will beat the boys from Santiago, and the grandiose, limestone and granite Capitolio building, where locals and tourists alike gather on its steps to meet, to rest, or just watch the passersby.
From there, weave your way along Calle Neptuno through Centro Habana, for a taste of daily life for many Habaneros: ration shops and agropecuarios (free enterprise vegetable markets), old men drinking rum in doorways, boisterous domino and card games, young boys playing baseball and soccer in the street. Continue all the way to the University of Habana, where you can wander the relaxed grounds, explore its quirky museums, or continue on through the leafy streets of Vedado, past the landmark Habana Libre hotel, the former Hilton Hotel ‘liberated’ by Castro, who for a time ran his revolution from one of its upstairs suites, and up Calle 23 for an ice cream at Coppelia.
For a city that revels in sensual pleasures like music and dance, it seems incongruent that food isn’t exactly one of Habana’s specialties. Partly it’s about a lack of ingredients, thanks to the US embargo, a series of crop-devastating hurricanes and patchy agricultural production, but for many Cubans, getting enough food, rather than getting good food, is the priority. If a local recommends a restaurant it’s probably because the portions are big, rather than tasty.
For the majority of habaneros, huge amounts of energy go into working out how to ‘conseguir’ food for the day’s meal – the monthly ration book, or libretto, rarely provides enough – and they’re experts at inventing recipes and substituting ingredients. Menus usually consist of what’s available in the agropecuarios plus what can be scrounged that day on the black market. For an authentic Cuban experience, join the queues lined up for slices of chewy, cheesy pizza at a couple of Cuban pesos a piece (you’ll need to change money at a Cadeca chain), or a soft serve ice cream.
In my experience, the best meals are to be had in private homes, or casa particulares, where you’re likely to be served huge portions of chicken, fish or shrimp, along with the ubiquitous mountains of beans and rice, or moros y christianos, with fried plantains or yucca on the side. To eat in a casa you’re officially supposed to be staying there. But there are also some excellent paladares, state-licensed restaurants set up inside people’s homes. My favourite is the justly popular La Guarida, made famous as the set of 1994 Oscar-nominated film Fresa y Chocolate. On tatty Concordia Street in Centro Habana, you climb a crumbling staircase, past revolutionary murals and lines of hanging washing, to the third-floor dining rooms, full of Santeria figurines and film-set memorabilia, where creative neuva cocina Cubana is served, such as sea bass in a coconut reduction and chicken with honey and lemon sauce.
The best paladares in Habana are mostly out of the centre, in Miramar and Playa. La Cocina de Lilliam in Playa, for example, with its lush garden setting in a large Spanish colonial-style house, has served hearty, flavorful dishes – including starters such as roasted chickpeas mixed with pieces of ham, sausage and tomatoes, and a simple bruschetta topped with tuna – to many a visiting dignitary, including Jimmy Carter on his 2002 visit. In leafy Miramar, home to the diplomatic community and replete with majestic mansions, broad avenues and weeping fig trees, we turned down a potholed road (that was more pothole than road) to Paladar El Aljibe. We knocked on the front door, walked past the family in wicker rocking chairs in the front room, then down the hall to the covered verandah with plastic vines twisted over the beams, where we ordered huge plates of their famous roast chicken, soaked in a delicious pungent sauce made with fermented oranges, chicken fat and garlic. In Vedado, the “ropa vieja” at Paladar Gringo Viejo is a good choice if you’re looking for a tasty version of this Cuban specialty of shredded beef, which unfortunately can turn out to taste too much like its namesake if eaten in the wrong establishment. “Cubans love this dish, because we usually get three meals out of it – soup, stew and rice,” the waitress told me, while a Rod Steward concert played on the video screen behind her.
In Barrio Chino, where half a dozen cheap Chinese restaurants vie for your custom on colourful Cuchillo Street, my pick is Tien-Tan, where Cubanas in thigh-high split cheongsams and wedge heels serve up huge plates of chop suey, while you sit at outdoor tables and watch the passing action. The dumplings are delicious.
For a great perspective of the city, one of my favourite places is La Torre in Vedado, perched at the top of modernist Edificio Focsa. The spectacular 36th-storey, 360-degree views of Habana are more impressive than the food. The restaurant offers French-Cuban haute cuisine, serving everything from artichokes to almond tart in its air-conditioned, 1950s-decor dining room.
If you’ve got a sweet tooth, a must-stop is the Museo del Chocolate, more café than museum, where Cubans and tourists alike queue for steaming, thick cups of melted chocolate, which you can watch being made on the premises. And of course, no visit to Habana would be complete without a stop at Coppelia, the space-age-looking, state-run ice cream parlor in Vedado. If you want the real deal, ignore the guards who will try to usher you through to the sterile tourist section (where you pay in Convertibles, not Cuban pesos), and instead join the queuing masses – ask who is “el ultimo” and line up behind them – where you can make friends, and watch in awe as you see Cubans of all ages shovel more ice cream in a single sitting than you thought possible.
“Psst, you want to buy cigars my friend?” is a whisper that seems to blow along Obispo Street in Habana Vieja like a breeze, and it might seem like every second person you meet has a brother or an uncle who works in a cigar factory, and can sell you Cuba’s famous, aromatic, hand-rolled cigars for cheap. These offers are best avoided, as the quality will probably be dubious, with air pockets and hard wrappings, or they’ll likely be outright fakes. The best places to buy cigars in Habana are the Real Fabrica de Tabacos Partagas in Centro Habana and the Casa del Habano in the Hostal Conde de Villanueva in Habana Vieja.
Shopping isn’t one of the main drawcards in communist Cuba, but you can find worthy souvenirs and maybe a bargain or two at Habana’s best open-air handicraft market, the Feria de la Artesania, on Calle Tacon. There you can buy paintings, wood carvings, guayaberas, Che memorabilia, beads and other jewels. The second-hand book market in Plaza de Armas has ancient Time-Life magazines and obscure, pre-revolutionary scientific tomes, as well as ubiquitous books about Che Gueverra and copies of Fidel’s “History Will Absolve Me” speech.
Pirate CD sellers specializing in Cuban music about in Centro Habana, especially around Cuchillo Street in Barrio Chino, but for the real deal, Casa de la Musica in Miramar, an outlet of Egrem, Cuba’s national music recording and publishing company, has an excellent selection of CDs, as does La Habana Si, opposite the Habana Libre Hotel in Vedado.
For iconic Cuban movie posters, go to the giftshop at the Museo Nacional de Bellas Artes.
For a truly authentic Cuban shopping experience, stroll down Calle Neptuno in Centro Habana on a Saturday, and browse the stores where Habaneros sell everything from second-hand taps, to radio and car parts to old 1970s album covers. You could have your nails done with the locals, or wait in line with the hundreds of other Cubans queuing to enter the new Adidas store (trainers are high on Cuban’s wish list).
Hanging out in rocking chairs on the porch with a Cuban family, sharing a plate of moros y christianos or watching the night’s telenovela episode, while discussing the latest rumors about Fidel’s health or finding out where the next free Los Van Van concert is going to take place, are some of the advantages of staying in one of Havana’s casa particulares, family homes with licenses to rent out one or two rooms. This is the best, and possibly only, way for a foreigner to get to know Habaneros at close hand. Standards vary from plush colonial homes to modest apartments without water or electricity – the best bet is to look for the small blue-and-white signs that all legal homes display above the door and check them out. Alternatively, you can pre-book by using www.cubacasas.net or www.casaparticular.org.
The other classic Havana option is to stay in one of the magnificently restored period hotels, such as the small and intimate Conde de Villanueva, in what was once the mansion of Claudio Martínez de Pinillos, Count of Villanueva, the leader of Cuban Creole society in the 19th century, recently restored by city historian Eusebio Leal. The suite overlooking the junction of Lamparilla and Mercaderes Streets has great views. Also popular is the shiny new Hotel Saratoga, overlooking the Capitolio.
For a taste of Habana’s mobster heyday check out the Hotel Sevilla, with photographs of former guests on the walls along with black and white shots of Castro’s revolutionaries dismantling the casino when they descended on the city to claim victory in 1959. Al Capone once hired out the whole 6th floor, and Graham Greene used it as a setting for his novel Our Man in Havana.
Hotel Nacional, Havana’s iconic art deco landmark, with inviting verandahs, swaying palms and magnificent views over the sea and the Malecon, is another good choice for those with an eye for history, though rumor has it the rooms are looking a bit shabby. Another favorite haunt of the mafia ratpack, previous guests include Winston Churchill, Frank Sinatra, Errol Flynn and Naomi Campbell.
(nightlife)
As the sun sets over the bay of Habana the Malecon – 8km of concrete esplanade lined with salt-stained mansions and fallen buildings – comes to life. It’s Habana’s great leveler: the place where young and old, families, lovers, tourists and locals, gather to gaze out across the Straits of Florida, catch up on gossip, serenade a loved one, cast a fishing line, drink rum from the bottle, strum a guitar, munch on popcorn sold by street vendors, start an impromptu salsa party or just watch the waves pound against the rocks. Most Cubans can’t afford clubs or bars, so for many, the Malecon on a Saturday night is the place to be.
For those with a few more Convertibles in their pocket, a drink on the lawn at the stately, art deco Hotel Nacional – from where you can watch proceedings on the Malecon below at a safe distance – is a lovely way to start an evening. If you’re after more of a taste of Habana’s former glitz – and an insight into what things might have been like when the city was playground to mobsters and the world’s rich and famous, you can continue on at the Cabaret Nacional, which has a nightly show, or head out to the famously flamboyant Tropicana nightclub in Marianao, which has been running continuously since 1939.
Habana Vieja has some wonderful old atmospheric bars, mostly frequented by tourists. La Bodeguita del Medio in Habana Vieja is the original Hemingway drinking hole – a must-visit for fans of the author of The Old Man and the Sea. Fight your way through the tourists to get your mojito at the bar and scrawl your signature alongside those of other illustrious visitors such as Nat King Cole, Salvador Allende and Harry Belafonte. Continue the pilgrimage at El Floridita, home to the daiquiri, where there’s a bronze statue of Hemingway himself, propped at the bar.
Calle Obispo has some lively nightspots, if you don’t mind fending off the hawkers. Café Paris has a good band and decent mojitos, while Monserrate Bar down the road has cheaper daiquiris, and a seedier, old-time feel within its wood-panelled walls. At the Plaza Vieja, students fill up the outdoor tables at La Taberna de la Muralla, which serves homebrew beer in huge plastic tubes, and has decent kebabs.
For dancing, the Casa de la Musica or Café Cantante are the places to see big-name salsa and reggaeton acts. Both have cheaper matinee shows that are more likely to be frequented by locals. If you want to practice your salsa moves, Tuesday night at the Hotel Florida is the place, or Wednesday at El Chevere, an al fresco disco in Vedado with a good mix of foreigners and locals. Thursday night is good at the Jazz Café, a supper club overlooking the Malecon, with cutting edge Jazz and funk. If you prefer something a bit more mellow, you can mix with the students and artists at Café Fresa y Chocolate, where Nueva Trova – a form of protest song mixing humor, poetry and melodic ballad – is sung by local musicians. Friday night comedy at La Roca is one of the best ways to get an insight into Habaneros ironic, irreverent and often black sense of humor.
Habaneros are huge film-goers – there are 200 movie theatres in Habana – and one of the best ways to spend an evening with locals is at the movies. Payret or Yara are favourites, with hundreds of wooden seats and entry queues often spreading around the theatre. It doesn’t really matter what’s playing – watching the audience is often more entertaining than the film.
Perhaps my favourite way to spend a night in Habana is drinking mojitos under the stars in the garden at the Casa de la Amistad in Vedado, listening to live son and salsa.