A long weekend in Havana sounded perfect. I had been before, in 2014 I think, and I loved it. Mostly for the cigars, but it is a great destination in its own right – though if it wasn’t for the cigars I wouldn’t have gone back. I had already seen the sights I wanted to see in Havana, so a weekend sounded like a perfect opportunity to just hang out with no pressure to see or do anything in particular.
I left Vancouver on a Thursday evening, changed planes in Mexico City and landed in Havana at about 2:00pm on Friday. I arrived at the airport in Havana and, once through immigration, found myself doing the usual haggling with taxi drivers. They all wanted 40 or 35 CUCs, which I knew was too much. After making my counter offers, I was left rideless. I smoked a cigarillo, deciding how long to wait before upping my offering price, but then a guy who was picking up other passengers and also going to the National Hotel offered to take me for 10 CUC. Bingo.
I held the sign with the name of the family we were waiting for. When the family of four (two older couples) emerged, I suddenly found myself being asked to pose for pictures with them. I get that they were excited to travel to Cuba, but the airport pickup photos seemed excessive. I found out on the ride in that two of them were born in Cuba but left 40 years ago, moved to Puerto Rico and hadn’t seen their families since.
I arrived at the Hotel National giddy. With heat and humidity, with the excitement of being in Havana, and with the sight of that gorgeous patio facing the sea. Before even going to my room I bought a box of 10 Partagas torpedos and smoked a cigar on a wicker sofa outside.
My room was ordinary, but the Hotel Nacionale is a dream. It is this grand historical hotel that has so many stories that they do historical tours everyday of just the hotel.
From the hotel I walked mostly along the Malecon to old Havana, taking detours for street art and architecture. It wasn’t a long walk but I was dripping with sweat by the time I arrived.
I spent the rest of the day time hours walking around the old city revisiting streets and squares I have been to in the past.
Much of it was as I remembered but there were also new and refurbished buildings.
It’s such a touristy city but it still feels authentic. People live there and operate businesses. There was a new cool cafe that had opened, but next to it was still the same shack where locals paid a pittance to shoot bebe guns at beer cans.
I wandered aimlessly over that day and the next, taking time out to smoke cigars at the private room at the Partagas store and in At the La Casa in Miramar.
One of the best things that happened was walking through old Havana I heard loud Duke Ellington music and I thought, “That’s a place I need to be.” I figured it would be a bar or restaurant but when i found the door through which the blared I discovered that I had in fact walked in to a man’s humble living room.
He was older. 70 maybe. Sitting in a wooden chair in a pretty empty room next too a record player and a stack of records. I apologized a d said something about liking the music, but as I went to leave, he beckoned me in and pulled up a chair. He spoke no English and I speak only the most basic of Spanish but we hung out for the better part of an hour. He showed me his records – classic jazz and crooners. I played with his kitten and snapped my fingers along to Dexter Gordon. He played songs and I sung along to Ella Fitzgerald and Frank Sinatra. He put on an old Ray Charles album and got up to dance. He started twisting with enthusiasm. I felt suddenly awkward. Dancing with a stranger in his living room open to a busy pedestrian street is outside of my comfort zone, but I wasn’t going to sit there. That would be more awkward. So I danced. We danced for three songs and then I thanked him and left. It was a great experience. A brief connection.
I didn’t want to invade his hime by taking pictures of him, but I did take one of his kitten…and his foot.
I chilled out at my hotel in the evening, smoking cigars outside and in my room (just because I could). At about 11 pm I walked to the Fox and the Crow, nearby jazz bar and watched amazing jazz until nearly 1 am in an tiny underground bar.
And that was just one day.
The next day I did more of the same. Smoking, walking, reading, listing to buskers, drinking virgin piña coladas. It was perfect. I was actually happy to leave after two full days. I had what I wanted to do, soaked up the sun and the atmosphere; smoked more cigars than I can count. And then I was home.
I think that 2 days would not nearly be enough for a first visit to Havana, but for a second trip, for me, it was perfect. I’m sure I’ll go back for another two days of cuban cigar heaven.
