Culture Vulture

The boys sit along the sea wall. They comb the tops of their heads where the perfectly styled layer of hair sits. The sides are shaved revealing ears with golden studs. They have eyebrows more immaculately shaped than Bette Davis. The singlet each wears is fitted for bulging shoulders and perky chests. Their hips are small with the body of a highly trained dancer. The women that walk by, they flirt fiercely with eyes and attitude. They walk proud with shoulders pulled back and hips swaying vigorously. They are dressed in what may appear dated to the western world, but oh my, do they work the style. There is not one iPhone in sight, instead, Havana Club Rum and the smell of cigarettes. As the sunsets deeper beyond the Straights of Florida, the crowd grows, becoming larger and larger. The shanty silhouette of a decaying city stalks from the other side. "Bienviendos a La Habana". What a beautiful sight, what a beautiful city.
Arriving in Cuba is travelling back in time. Suddenly, I am immersed in the 1950’s where American high rollers once arrived to flaunt their decadence. The Revolution has defiantly frozen time. Surrounded by loyal heavy-duty vintage Chevrolets and over stimulated romantic maniacs. The heat ricochets from the cemented roads and buildings. Sweat trails your path, as passionate passerby’s stare and envisage which passport you carry and where it could take them. As a visitor you don’t understand why anyone would want to leave.
In every empty car park there are people practicing salsa tunes on brass instruments. There are games of dominos under colourful rippling washing which dangles from balconies above. Wooden wagons are filled with the season’s finest produce. Every second doorstep is either a pizza, coffee or a sweet shop. Indulging in the facades both restored and shabby, there is an array of street art stretching against decades of viewpoints and propaganda slogans using imagination to promote the subject of the Revolution. It is rare to spot a wall without the celebrated Che Guevara. Enthusiastic artists flood the plazas proud to promote their brightly coloured canvases and creations. The delight never ceases and the chaotic street noises make the perfect soundtrack.Everyday I am filled with nostalgia and long for the next. The chaos is empowering, it is delightfully exhausting, it is Cuba. "Nada se compara con la Habana". Nothing compares with Havana. What a beautiful sight, what a beautiful city.