Havana – the capital of Cuba – has been described as a city stuck in the past, due to the strict embargo with the United States that began in 1958 and grew through the ’60s to include nearly all imports and exports.
Up until the revolution, Cuba and the U.S. were on good relations, with tourism trade and dealings with American organized crime bolstering the Cuban economy. But in 1959, the Batista regime was thrown out for the current socialist system and – in the thick of the Cold War – the U.S. saw Cuba as a threat and effectively shut the country off from the Western world.
The embargo severely hampered Cuba’s growth as a country, but there’s a strange silver lining. In many ways, the country has remained in the early 1960s, making it a unique tourist destination. It was also one of the only countries in the world where you couldn’t find any American tourists.
That is until December 2014, when former president Barack Obama released a statement saying that the United States would “immediately begin discussions with Cuba to re-establish diplomatic relations.”
This included the ability for Americans to travel to Cuba, although not as tourists yet. However, if they say the trip is for education or humanitarian aid, no one seems to be raising any eyebrows. Plus, the flight from Miami is an hour and 15 minutes. Most of the Americans I spoke to were there for a three-day weekend.
My first trip to Cuba was a little over 10 years ago and I had hoped – when I returned last month – that I would come back to Havana and find the city still stuck in 1960. It was and it wasn’t.
The embargo isn’t over, but things appear to be slowly moving in that direction, and it seems to be encouraging other countries to do more trading with Cuba, as well. For example, 10 years ago the newest car you could see on the street was maybe made in the 1980s, but most were considerably older.
There are still a lot of classic hot rods – more even, than on the Sunshine Coast – but now modern Russian Ladas outnumber them.
This time when I walked through Old Havana I felt the same awe at walking the streets that had been walked by Spanish colonizers, pirates, gangsters and revolutionaries. The impressions they left on the city linger in the streets, in the façades of the buildings and in the Cuban people drinking and dancing along the Malecón, Havana’s seawall.
I wondered if that feeling would be preserved as Americans flood in and Cuba begins to catch up with the rest of the world.
One night I watched a girl from Boston try to ask for a napkin in a club.
“Naaapkin,” she said slowly, making a square shape in the air with her index fingers.
“Qué?” the bartender asked.
“You know, naaaaaapkin.”
“It’s servilleta,” I said, interrupting their conversation.
“Thanks. Are you American?” the girl asked me.
“No, I’m Canadian.”
