The Vibrancy and Decay of Free Cuba's Havana: A Cross-Century Dialogue with Hemingway

With a poor memory, I want to record this wonderful journey in rough words, hoping not to forget it too quickly. I had been following the travel host Yang from "Zhuang You Zhe" for a long time when he announced the Cuba trip. Due to various reasons, the originally scheduled National Day holiday trip was moved up by a week. If I went ahead, I’d have to use up all my vacation days and lose a significant portion of my salary. After much hesitation, I still made the choice—and I’m so glad I did. **Day 1: A Hurricane Lands, Bringing Wind and Rain** The trip began with all sorts of uncertainties. We weren’t sure if Hemingway’s former residence would be closed due to the hurricane, but guided by the Chinese philosophy of "since we’re already here," the entire group unanimously decided to brave the rain and make the long journey anyway. Against all odds, the small estate was open. The rain made the place refreshingly charming. Beyond the usual living quarters, there was a swimming pool and a yacht. In the yard lay the graves of Hemingway’s four dogs, each with a small tombstone bearing their names. For lunch, we dined at the Hotel Nacional de Cuba (where all foreign leaders stay when visiting Cuba, except Obama, who stayed at a staff residence near the embassy). Ironically, due to strained U.S.-Cuba relations, the American embassy no longer has an ambassador—only staff. Despite Cuba’s economic struggles, the Hotel Nacional rivals European luxury. Judging by their skin tones, the staff were mostly locals, while the guests were all foreigners, many with French or Spanish accents. They sat in small groups on the veranda, smoking cigars and gazing at the sea. Our group headed straight to the restaurant. Since I don’t eat pork, I was lucky to try Cuba’s national dish, *ropa vieja* ("old clothes")—shredded beef stewed until tender, with sauce seeping into every fiber, juicy and flavorful. A local band provided live music during the meal. After lunch, we visited Plaza de Armas, Plaza de la Catedral, and Plaza Vieja. Host Yang mentioned that a few years ago, these were bustling commercial districts. But due to the pandemic, many direct flights and cruise routes from Europe never resumed, and Asian tourists were too far away. Now, the once-beautiful shopping streets are nearly deserted, with only a handful of tourists, restaurant staff trying to lure customers, and children begging for candy. We also learned some basic salsa steps. In the evening, we watched the cannon-firing ceremony at Morro Castle. Originally a curfew signal, it’s now more of a tourist attraction—some parts so comical they felt like farce. A packed day in a country with such a tumultuous fate, a contradictory mix of capitalism and socialism, yet still full of vibrant, friendly people. So far, Havana feels cleaner than some European cities—at least cleaner than Rome. However, the oil crisis is severe. Heavily reliant on Venezuelan oil, Cuba’s supply has grown even scarcer due to Venezuela’s own instability. Havana’s state-run garbage trucks, which used to collect daily, now come only once a week or less. Power outages are frequent, but at least there aren’t giant rats running wild like in Paris!