
Cuba. Ten days. Two very different experiences. Today I’ll write about the first: Havana.
Both over and underwhelming, Havana is a city of conflict and wild contrast. Walk down one quaint cobblestone street in Habana Vieja (Old Havana), a UNESCO Heritage Site, and every building along it will be precisely restored, paint fresh, potted palms lining the tidy streets. Turn the corner and you may fall into an open sewer. Pass decaying buildings that are so decrepit you believe they must be adandoned… until you catch a flash of movement inside and realize it’s someone’s home. The juxtiposition of the two extremes is jarring and unsettling.
It’s not just the physical nature of the city that is precariously balanced. The contrast between rich and poor – tourists and Cubanos, and, although it’s illegal to amass wealth, poor Cubanos and rich Cubanos (who generally get that way through working the black market or other illegal activity) – is a constant source of tension and strife. We were constantly bothered by jinetaros – hustlers – out to get our money. And who could blame them?

But the spirit of the place. The music! And yes, the people – once you got past the jinetaros and met the real Cubanos.
Contrary to what I read before my trip, I saw little evidence of urban agriculture in Havana proper. Houseplants were popular, but silk flowers even more so. I couldn’t understand why when even a pot of herbs would supplement their meagre rations.

I only saw a couple of these makeshift gardens in Havana.

We stumbled across this plant shop, run out of someone’s home.

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