CUBA
It's February 1st, 2019. We just landed on the outskirts of Havana, Cuba. The city greets you slowly, and then, all at once—something like a dream. The closer we reach the inner bounds of Old Habana, the more it comes alive.
Cars from yesteryear zip by, painting the streets with every color under the sun. The rackety sounds of their old engines dance with the jazzy salsa tunes of the many establishments that line the streets.
Because of the embargo on Cuba (referred to by some residents as "el bloqueo"), the entire population had to become resourceful. Many working in the auto service industry resorted to using any mechanical part that they could find to keep up the maintenance on their vehicles, even using lawnmower engines as parts.
The city's unintentional style of eco-brutalism lent itself to both past and future; walking around Old Havana, you feel like you either just stepped into a lost city or you're getting a glimpse of a dystopic future. La Habana is filled with buildings like this one, where plant life takes over the facades of seemingly dilapidated buildings, a great metaphor for the people of Cuba who have persevered through their shared struggles. Despite its rough edges, Havana looks and feels like a paradise. The ocean air flows over El Malecón into the city like clockwork, causing the many flowers that decorate the city to dance with reverence.
It's day four in Cuba. Yesterday, Reese and I took a day trip to the countryside of Vinales. Just two hours outside La Habana, an entirely different world welcomed us with gleaming sunshine.
It's day five in Cuba, and we are preparing to leave our first B&B. It felt more like a home, and the staff, Anna, Julia, Jose, Josh, and Marylin, felt more like family. It's funny how you can travel hundreds of miles across the world and meet people who owe you nothing but still want to see you smile. We're headed to Trinidad, it's four hours away and we're taking a shared taxi, locals call it un "collectivo."
The town was just as lively as Havana, but not as loud. Instead of blending with the sounds of cars zipping by, like in Havana, the Latin Jazz music played harmoniously with seagulls while ocean waves crashed onto the beach in the background. The town was decorated with bright and colorful colonial-style homes, where children played barefoot on the cobblestone roads
Images of Che Guevara can be found everywhere on the island.
"Peace tends to sneak up on you when you're cut off from life back home. Cuba has a near-nonexistent relationship with the Internet. As of now, citizens and tourists have limited access to the internet via pre-paid permits provided by the government, which is, at best, 3G.
Surprisingly, though, it's not a hard adjustment when you're sitting in the courtyard next to a pool, and Old Havana is painted far off in the distance. The air is fresh here, and the wind is calm, perhaps for the moment. Today, we're free to roam the city, estranged from our phones, free from schedules and emails. This place is far from home, and it reminds us as such."
Despite tobacco being a major export of Cuba, tobacco farmers are required to sell the majority of their crop to the government at a fixed price, leaving them with little means to build any wealth. Meanwhile, Habanos S.A., a Cuban manufacturing company of tobacco that controls the promotion, distribution, and export of premium cigars and other tobacco products worldwide, reported a record $827 million in revenue in 2024
It's day six in Cuba, and Trinidad has proven to be the highlight of our trip so far. On our way here, we met a woman named Natalie, a flight attendant from Stockholm, Sweden; an elderly duo, Paco from Spain and Don from Japan. They were triathlon athletes; they met during a race in Madrid, and now they travel the world together, biking and running wherever they can. We also met a young couple from France, named Julien and Merriam. We would spend the next few days together, enjoying the peaceful coastal town of Trinidad.
Most of the natives here were very upfront about their hustle, and everything was fair game. I found myself in several situations where I had to pay for the photograph I had just taken. For instance, I took this photo of a musician and his grandson, who both directed my attention to the bucket of money. This is a common practice in Cuba, where locals often expect a small payment for allowing their photos to be taken, especially if they are performing or in a tourist area.
The Cuban population heavily depends on tourism. For decades, Cuba has operated on a dual currency system-- the Cuban Peso and CUC, the former being the everyday currency used by citizens to pay wages, utilities, and basic necessities. At the same time, the latter is a form of money based on foreign currencies used for everything else ( ie, buying imported food, luxury goods, homes, meals, and accommodation).
Unlike Havana, which gets the most tourism, many Cuban citizens in other parts of the island don't get as many opportunities to earn CUC.
I'd be dishonest if I omitted that I was ignorant of the Afro-Latino culture present here in Cuba. Of course, before booking any flights, we did our due diligence in researching, but nothing could have prepared me for how rich in Afro-Caribbean culture it was. Black people were everywhere, they were in the art, they were playing the music, and cooking the food. One night, we visited Fábrica de Arte Cubano, a cultural art center that produces films, concerts, art exhibitions, markets, and performance art. We watched a performance of Yoruban folklore, where dancers told the story of the Orishas' early days in the Caribbean. Many Afro Cubans trace their ancestry through slavery, where their ancestors fled from Saint-Domingue after the Haitian Revolution, or in chains almost a century ago, directly from the motherland. Either way, the diaspora was strong enough to create a blend culture.
This the shot before I had to fight for my life... if you know, you know.
On horseback, we rode through the deep valley where farmers grow coffee beans, bananas, guava, and so much more; however, Tobacco is the primary crop in these parts. Generations of families have been growing the crop, dating back centuries to the indigenous Taino people.
Mural de la Prehistoria by Leovigildo González Morillo, painted on the wall of the Pita mogote in Sierra de los Órganos.
Baby boy in the doorway. His momma charged me one CUC to take his photo.
CUBA
It's February 1st, 2019. We just landed on the outskirts of Havana, Cuba. The city greets you slowly, and then, all at once—something like a dream. The closer we reach the inner bounds of Old Habana, the more it comes alive.
Cars from yesteryear zip by, painting the streets with every color under the sun. The rackety sounds of their old engines dance with the jazzy salsa tunes of the many establishments that line the streets.
Because of the embargo on Cuba (referred to by some residents as "el bloqueo"), the entire population had to become resourceful. Many working in the auto service industry resorted to using any mechanical part that they could find to keep up the maintenance on their vehicles, even using lawnmower engines as parts.
The city's unintentional style of eco-brutalism lent itself to both past and future; walking around Old Havana, you feel like you either just stepped into a lost city or you're getting a glimpse of a dystopic future. La Habana is filled with buildings like this one, where plant life takes over the facades of seemingly dilapidated buildings, a great metaphor for the people of Cuba who have persevered through their shared struggles. Despite its rough edges, Havana looks and feels like a paradise. The ocean air flows over El Malecón into the city like clockwork, causing the many flowers that decorate the city to dance with reverence.
This the shot before I had to fight for my life... if you know, you know.
"Peace tends to sneak up on you when you're cut off from life back home. Cuba has a near-nonexistent relationship with the Internet. As of now, citizens and tourists have limited access to the internet via pre-paid permits provided by the government, which is, at best, 3G.
Surprisingly, though, it's not a hard adjustment when you're sitting in the courtyard next to a pool, and Old Havana is painted far off in the distance. The air is fresh here, and the wind is calm, perhaps for the moment. Today, we're free to roam the city, estranged from our phones, free from schedules and emails. This place is far from home, and it reminds us as such."
Images of Che Guevara can be found everywhere on the island.
I'd be dishonest if I omitted that I was ignorant of the Afro-Latino culture present here in Cuba. Of course, before booking any flights, we did our due diligence in researching, but nothing could have prepared me for how rich in Afro-Caribbean culture it was. Black people were everywhere, they were in the art, they were playing the music, and cooking the food. One night, we visited Fábrica de Arte Cubano, a cultural art center that produces films, concerts, art exhibitions, markets, and performance art. We watched a performance of Yoruban folklore, where dancers told the story of the Orishas' early days in the Caribbean. Many Afro Cubans trace their ancestry through slavery, where their ancestors fled from Saint-Domingue after the Haitian Revolution, or in chains almost a century ago, directly from the motherland. Either way, the diaspora was strong enough to create a blend culture.
It's day four in Cuba. Yesterday, Reese and I took a day trip to the countryside of Vinales. Just two hours outside La Habana, an entirely different world welcomed us with gleaming sunshine.
On horseback, we rode through the deep valley where farmers grow coffee beans, bananas, guava, and so much more; however, Tobacco is the primary crop in these parts. Generations of families have been growing the crop, dating back centuries to the indigenous Taino people.
Despite tobacco being a major export of Cuba, tobacco farmers are required to sell the majority of their crop to the government at a fixed price, leaving them with little means to build any wealth. Meanwhile, Habanos S.A., a Cuban manufacturing company of tobacco that controls the promotion, distribution, and export of premium cigars and other tobacco products worldwide, reported a record $827 million in revenue in 2024
Mural de la Prehistoria by Leovigildo González Morillo, painted on the wall of the Pita mogote in Sierra de los Órganos.
It's day five in Cuba, and we are preparing to leave our first B&B. It felt more like a home, and the staff, Anna, Julia, Jose, Josh, and Marylin, felt more like family. It's funny how you can travel hundreds of miles across the world and meet people who owe you nothing but still want to see you smile. We're headed to Trinidad, it's four hours away and we're taking a shared taxi, locals call it un "collectivo."
It's day six in Cuba, and Trinidad has proven to be the highlight of our trip so far. On our way here, we met a woman named Natalie, a flight attendant from Stockholm, Sweden; an elderly duo, Paco from Spain and Don from Japan. They were triathlon athletes; they met during a race in Madrid, and now they travel the world together, biking and running wherever they can. We also met a young couple from France, named Julien and Merriam. We would spend the next few days together, enjoying the peaceful coastal town of Trinidad.
The town was just as lively as Havana, but not as loud. Instead of blending with the sounds of cars zipping by, like in Havana, the Latin Jazz music played harmoniously with seagulls while ocean waves crashed onto the beach in the background. The town was decorated with bright and colorful colonial-style homes, where children played barefoot on the cobblestone roads
Most of the natives here were very upfront about their hustle, and everything was fair game. I found myself in several situations where I had to pay for the photograph I had just taken. For instance, I took this photo of a musician and his grandson, who both directed my attention to the bucket of money. This is a common practice in Cuba, where locals often expect a small payment for allowing their photos to be taken, especially if they are performing or in a tourist area.
The Cuban population heavily depends on tourism. For decades, Cuba has operated on a dual currency system-- the Cuban Peso and CUC, the former being the everyday currency used by citizens to pay wages, utilities, and basic necessities. At the same time, the latter is a form of money based on foreign currencies used for everything else ( ie, buying imported food, luxury goods, homes, meals, and accommodation).
Unlike Havana, which gets the most tourism, many Cuban citizens in other parts of the island don't get as many opportunities to earn CUC.
Baby boy in the doorway. His momma charged me one CUC to take his photo.