Havana Days and Nights

Travellers to Cuba must know three things. MasterCard is not accepted. Your limited Spanish vocabulary should include Bailas? And Cubans were eating plantain chips before the Paleo diet made it cool. I arrived in Habana knowing nada.

I left the airport with 50 CUC to last ten days, all the while cursing Dirty Dancing for not better preparing me for these oversights in my travel plans. Or lack thereof. I arrived at Rolando's Backpackers and threw my bags into my room. I was hungry and anxious as to how far my remaining 25 CUC would take me.

I stepped outside and began to wander. The electric colours of the antique houses were still visible, even in the gathering dusk. The lingering summer heat intensified the smell of benzene from speeding 1950s Ford cars. I looked on as a Cuban family fluidly moved to the Latin beats crackling through their portable stereo. People would smile and stop in front of me, “Bailas Bailas!” and, before I could ask qué, literally salsa away.

I continued my walk past the diminished El Capitolo building, an architectural icon in an earlier time. Doors to casas were wide open and strains of rapid Spanish and tantalising hints of food hung in the air. My stomach happened to notice a white piece of paper stuck to a window that read ‘Cheese Pizza’, 0.50 CUC.

I went inside, sat at the kitchen table, and inhaled what I thought to be the only food my CUC could buy. Across from me, a young woman ordered a plate of marinated chicken, fried plantains, beans and rice. It was the same plate the children were eating in the next room in front of the TV. Another man wondered in off the street and ordered the same in Spanish, arroz congri con pollo. He also paid a few extra convertible pesos and bought the table plastic cups of soft drink that were stored in a blue esky to the side. It was as if somebody had cooked too much dinner for their family, and was selling the delicious leftovers.

It is easy enough to find places in the city centre capitalising on Western palates, selling basil pesto pasta, minestrone soup, and yes, cheese pizzas.
But Paladares, where families invite strangers into their homes to eat, are the best way, and the cheapest, to experience Cuban cuisine. There are no queues, no bookings, just comfort. Follow the sound of the afro-Cuban rhythms, the slow lilt of acoustic guitars, the conga drums, the men singing folk songs outside the casas, and the unmistakable smell of garlic.

Don’t let my food envy be yours.