46 R A N T S & R A V E S 46 it became suddenly obvious we’d left Tampa behind. No jetway, no air-conditioned monorail whisking us to a modern terminal. I looked out at the steps down to the tarmac like you’d see in a 60’s movie and a view to a primary, aging terminal building. Sure, I felt a little Sean Connery-era 007 descending those stairs as I single-handed my sunglasses into place. A couple of care-free mutts relieving themselves on the tarmac outside the terminal killed that vibe pretty quick. ������������ �������� ������������ ���������� ������������ �������� stepped into a place profoundly outside of time, and worlds apart. �������������� ������ ���� ������������������ ������������ �������� �������� captivating and magical. A study in contrasts; beauty and decay, subtle and brash, light and dark, old and new, swirling in a slow tropical hurricane. Havana is a riot of sounds and colors and smells and geometries, with intense tropical heat intense that’s somehow not oppressive. It simultaneously overwhelms you and embraces you. ���� ������������ ������ ������������������ ������ ������ �������������� into a paradigm that felt familiar, �������������������������� ���������������� ���������� �������� �������� of everyday life felt harder for me. Usually, I’ll walk out the door and just wander until the rhythm and rhyme of things click into place. Havana had me me feeling a little disconcerting and a little refreshing. That exhilarating sense of being slightly lost, rudderless, foreign, is a reason I travel. Havana delivers in spades. �������������������������������������������������������������������������� beauty is woven into the fabric of Havana. In the architecture, boulevards, monuments, and physical environment. It’s like the city was born of Eden, designed by Renaissance artists and built by master artisans. With the ocean breeze in the air and an avalanche of sensory input it sometimes feels mythic and surreal, like the magical realism of a Garcia Marquez novel. And often, sadly in varying states of deterioration. The city feels arrested in time. Rather than halted, it seems that history, modernity, beauty, and decay occupy the same spaces simultaneously. Invisible tropical gods seem to be reclaiming the city back to the jungle while deciding if a truce may be in order. The reason: this place is too beautiful, too grand to destroy utterly. So they pause to give Havana a chance to remember what it was, what it essentially still is. The thing is, once you’ve fallen in love with this place you root for it. Havana is bigger, more sprawling than I anticipated, with a diversity of well-spread-out neighborhoods. 281.2 square miles and 2.1M inhabitants. By contrast, Tampa is 175.2 square miles. Mostly on foot, we explored Havana neighborhoods such as Vedado, Centro Habana, Miramar, and of course Habana Vieja or Old Havana. If your plans include just a few days in Cuba you’ll want to focus on Old Havana; it’s the heart of the city much like mid-town Manhattan is for NYC. Walking the tree-lined side streets of neighborhoods like Vedado and Miramar gave glimpses into the daily life of everyday Cubans. Moms taking kids to school, people scurrying here and there, in line at mercados. A peculiar sight in residential areas are the many make-shift micro-businesses run out of yards and garages. Cubans have to get creative to make ends meet. Havana is bordered on its northern edge by the famous Malecon seawall, a hugely popular scenic and social gathering spot. The Malecon was hopping on Friday and Saturday nights. Couples and larger groups enjoyed the sea breeze and convenient seating provided by the low wall. There was CONTINUED FROM PAGE 45
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