Bold Havana: city of salsa and socialism
Our man in Havana, Bob Higson, explores the idiosyncracies of local culture and uncovers the gritty underbelly of a city still struggling to define itself post-revolution.
Havana is in parts a burgeoning and picturesque tourist destination, yet you only need to search a little further to discover the heady underside of a city with a dank and harsh history. It is a place which has enticed literary greats such as Hemingway. It has been the playground of American Mafioso; the stomping ground of Argentinean revolutionaries, and the palette of giants of Latin-American music, mariachi and salsa.
It’s hard not to be seduced by your surroundings. Beneath the eyes of the cult-like Che Guevera posters which dominate the long and dusty streets, the potent fumes of cigars are so thick that even a leisurely stroll down the road becomes dizzying.
The cultural imperialists amongst us might note with dismay that the golden arches of a certain fast food chain are nowhere to be seen in Havana. There are, however, enormous billboards boldly comparing George Bush to Adolf Hitler for all to see. Despite large pockets of serious poverty, there’s an ambience to the city that fills the restaurants, bars and pavement cafés that can be found at every turn. Cadillacs race past the front doors of old Spanish colonial buildings, creating the impression of a city lost in time; unsure of which decade it ought to belong to.
Vast swathes of bronzed bodies populate the streets, gyrating and flirting. As the rum flows freely, so does the chemistry between the men and women
I have never in my life felt so painfully English as I did in Havana. Vast swathes of darkened and bronzed bodies populate the streets; all gyrating and flirting, even their walk is unashamedly rhythmic. Local ‘habaneros’ express little inhibition and as rum flows freely between the local men and women, so does the chemistry. Havana is not a place for the shy or faint-hearted. It makes for a hot and highly-charged atmosphere; a million miles from the side streets of York.
Landmarks throughout the city proclaim the politics of a bygone revolution and use it to commercial advantage, sustaining an expanding tourist industry. The Plaza de la Revolucion - dominated by the iconic image of the man affectionately known here as El Che - is the place where thousands flock yearly to hear the rallying cries of Castro and others.
The nearby de facto American embassy in Havana is now the scene of a long-standing propaganda battle between the governments of the two nations, which has become a bizarre tourist attraction in itself. The American embassy (though officially a part of the Swiss embassy) projects messages via a scrolling electronic board on the face of the building, denouncing the political slogans of the Castro government for all passers-by to see. In retaliation, the Cuban authorities have erected the “Mount of Flags” just outside it. Black flags with single white stars fly on huge flag poles in order to obscure the board from view. It makes for an amusing sight, but it’s more than just political tit-for-tat. Here, ideology truly shapes the lives of every ordinary citizen. Politics is everywhere.
It’s for this reason that people are drawn here, but as one local man tells me, it’s not the reason why they stay. Instead, it’s the people, the music and the uniqueness of the city that defies categorisation. Whether you’re sipping daiquiris in Hemingway’s old drinking haunts or exploring the setting for Greene’s ‘Our Man in Havana’, even the apparently mundane seems steeped in its own peculiar history.
We head out for dinner at the house of a local family who use their living room as a makeshift restaurant for tourists, supplementing their small income. Elbowing our way through the bikes resting against the tables, with the sounds of a family squabbling in an adjacent room, an enormous meal is laid in front of us. The family are incredibly hospitable and are grateful for our time in their house and the chance to practice their English. As dessert reaches us, we learn that the crumbling plaster walls around us once housed a founding member of the legendary Buena Vista Social Club prior to his death. Away from the tatty tourist markets of ‘El Che’ merchandise, this is the real Havana.
A country that so heartily proclaims its rebellious status certainly makes for an alluring visit. Indeed, it’s why Havana is fast becoming a major tourist destination. Even the American citizens I meet there, who opt to journey via Canada due to poor international relations and the embargo between Cuba and the US, are enticed by the seafront walks along the Malecón, the grand hotels, the striking fortresses surrounding Havana bay, the vibrancy of the streets of La Habana Vieja (Old Havana) and the infectious soundtrack to the city. But the reality for the ordinary Cuban citizen is perhaps not as cheerful as many travel guides suggest.
What operates in Cuba is a dual economy: one for the average resident Cuban, and another for the tourist who simply flits through. Here, it is tourism that props up an economy that has heavily struggled following the collapse of the Soviet Union. The economy has also faced ongoing US embargo policies against the nation, during the time which, since 1991, has been known as the ‘Special Period’.
Tourists even use a different currency from the Cuban - the Cuban Convertible Peso (CCP) - which is worth approximately 24 times as much as the ordinary peso. Effectively, this means that access to convert pesos is highly sought, as many items that Cubans attempt to buy are sold solely in CCPs.
It’s the reason why jobs in international hotels, bars and entertainment venues are amongst the best possible sources of employment for the average working Cuban. For this reason, as I’m told later by a local student, jobs as a waiter or a barman are in some places allocated by the government.
I meet Mario, the Cuban friend of a friend studying at the University of Havana. Taking him for a drink on a nearby hotel rooftop, he whispers with a keen eye on the nearby waiter that this is the first time he’s ever been allowed in a hotel such as this. Cubans like himself are not allowed in this hotel, he tells me, and are denied access to highly valued currency as the CPP. It’s only because he came in with us that he was allowed through the revolving doors. This apparently bizarre cultural idiosyncrasy becomes understandable when one realises that a waiter here probably earns more than a doctor would on a measly state wage. I stir my Mojito guiltily in the knowledge that this one drink alone has just cost me more than my friend Mario can earn in a whole month.
Later, whilst taking a stroll along the Malecón - the seafront promenade on the edge of the city - I become engaged in conversation with a passing young businessman. When he inquires where I come from, I tell him I’m from England, and am suddenly treated to an impromptu, but highly enthusiastic, Beatles impression - air guitar included - in questionable Spanglish.
His fondness of the Liverpudlian group leads him to tell us of the numerous John Lennon memorials scattered throughout the city. I am at a loss, however, as to why he talks to us with his mobile phone to his ear even though there is no one at on the other end. “This is to show I have money”, he says. “If police see me talking to you, they can arrest me”. For this man, passing police cars who spot him talking to tourists here naturally assume thievery. Apparently, in Havana, Big Brother really is watching you.
Cubans say the inherent inequality of the system is the single most exasperating issue that faces them. The social disparities - between those with access to dollars and those without - is crippling for some, and is disparagingly referred to as the “tourism apartheid” in some quarters. It remains unbelievable that despite such a well educated workforce that boasts one of the highest literacy levels in Latin America, such a system still operates so openly. It is even more remarkable in a country still screaming its socialist credentials, post-revolution.
Of course the real picture is far more complicated. Not everyone here is a staunch, red-starred communist battleaxe. Political ambivalence is especially prevalent amongst the student population; far more so than Granma - the official newspaper of the Cuban Communist Party - would have one believe. People are more concerned with what will happen to Cuba after Castro’s impending death, the influence of the Miami mafia, and whether a communist economy can survive and truly be communist. For these people, there is a life beyond Castro and the celebrated communist revolutionaries that adorn the pavements throughout the city.
As I reach the end of my time here, I find myself feeling like I haven’t even scratched the surface of a city so unlike any other. It does no justice to merely pass through so briefly, and so, even as I depart, Cohibas and rum in hand, I vow to return.
One thing I am sure of, however, is why Havana has for centuries captivated scores of people; from its grimier neighbours fleeing prohibition, seeking cheap liquor and gambling; to artisans, musicians, writers and political thinkers, all seduced by the charisma of a city so eclectic and contradictory, so idiosyncratic.
Famous former visitors to Cuba’s capital city
Ernest Hemingway
Hemingway went to Havana in Spring 1932 and ended up spending four months there while having an affair with Jane Mason, the wife of the chief of Pan American Airways in Cuba. He later bought an estate in Cuba with third wife Martha Gellhorn and became a cockfighting devotee. After his death the Cuban government maintained his house as a museum.
Frank Sinatra
Stayed there soon after his wedding to Ava Gardner. The city’s famous Hotel Nacional still displays a picture of them in their room.
Steven Spielberg
The Hollywood film maker visited Cuba in November 2002, meeting with Castro for an eight hour discussion sanctioned by the US government. He launched a festival of his films and called for the US trade embargo to be lifted.
Naomi Campbell
Another guest at the Hotel Nacional, the supermodel visited Havana in 1998 and met with Castro to discuss making a donation to Cuba’s children. Campbell reportedly referred to Castro as “a source of inspiration”, “intelligent” and “impressive”.
