Havana, Cuba

photographs by Stephanie Whiteside

Traveling to Cuba has always been a dream. In February I visited Havana amid reports of relaxed U.S. travel restrictions and thawing of relations with Cuba.

I wondered how I’d be received as an American, but everyone I met seemed thrilled: “America, our new friend!” Despite the embargo, the U.S. has imported some things — almost everyone I met mentioned baseball or music, especially the rapper Ja Rule, who’s long faded from the U.S. hip-hop scene.

The trip was taken on a whim and I didn’t have much time, so I spent most of my days walking around Old Havana, taking in the sights and doing my best to talk to people I met in my elementary Spanish.

Bold colors and dramatic architecture sat adjacent to falling walls and broken windows. Peeking inside ornate doors I sometimes spied a crumbling interior.

One of the first things I noticed was a mix of destruction and construction on the streets — buildings in various states of decay, and potholes in some state of repair, alongside construction sites that appeared unmanned. Most sites I passed were uniformly ignored by everyone who walked, climbed, or scrambled through them as they went about their day.

There’s no jaywalking in Havana. Crosswalks? Sidewalks? Never mind, walk wherever you please. And you’ll share the road with the ever-present bike taxis, who ask any foreigner they see if they want a ride.

One of the amazing things about Cuba for me was the lack of advertising billboards or signs everywhere. The most common thing I saw on the streets instead were carts selling vegetables and other fresh produce. Other times I’d stumble across the unexpected, like this butcher who was selling cuts of meat from the open window of what appeared to be a home.

A maze of streets in a tourist area hosted tiny souvenir shops that stocked the same items: Small paintings, carved statues, and musical instruments.

One thing I was delighted to see everywhere were books, being sold around a small park and in the many bookstores along the busy Calle Obispo. I caved in and bought some — even though I need to learn more Spanish.

I can’t go anywhere without befriending the animals, and Havana was full of dogs and cats on the streets. This little one was the fiercest kitten in all of Havana, who alternated between wanting attention and trying to attack my hand, even though her teeth and claws were too tiny to do any damage.

One of my favorite things to see in Havana was Santeria practitioners, often wearing their full white garb. A combination of indigenous religion, African religious practices and Catholicism, the orisha (Santeria’s spirit manifestations of God) were everywhere. Almost everywhere I went I saw people dressed in white or wearing necklaces or bracelets that signified their orisha: Gold for Oshun and green and gold for Ogun were especially common.

Another thing that was everywhere: Che Guevara and support for the revolution. If people are dissatisfied it doesn’t show on the walls.

Another fantastic thing was the number of people who gather in public spaces and parks. Artists sold their work and worked on their pieces, people sat and talked, and girls performed a dance routine while people gathered to watch.

And, kids playing everywhere in the street. Baseball, usually, or soccer and other games. I never saw hovering parents, or even any adults in sight. Several kids wandered over to me to make conversation and nobody seemed to mind.

To be in Havana as a foreigner is to see both beauty and sorrow. I was immediately taken with the city, with the energy and beauty all around me, while still witnessing the difficulty and poverty. The lack of capitalism was a refreshing experience, but the poverty was a sobering sight.

But in the end, I fell in love with Havana.

More photos available on Flickr.