could be considered downtown; and what about Centro Habana? Sure, central figures in the name of the city’s grittiest and liveliest of neighborhoods, but even Cubans can’t agree precisely where it ends and Habana Vieja begins. But there’s a center-of-the-Cuban-universe feeling provided by sitting on a shady bench in Parque Central, taking in the 1950s cars honking the Godfather theme, eavesdropping on the fellas debating the latest in baseball (known as the “esquina caliente,” the hot corner, this is a park highlight), and sneaking sidelong glances at the “Rastafarians”—in quotes because dreadlocks do not a rasta make. The center of the park is anchored by an iconic statue of “the Cuban apostle,” José Martí and directly across the street is one of the jewels in Havana’s architectural crown: the Gran Teatro de la Habana.
This theater has been the headquarters of the Ballet Nacional de Cuba since 1959, taking a brief (for Cuba) recess during renovations concluded in 2014. Upon re-opening, it was renamed the Gran Teatro de la Habana Alicia Alonso, but people still call it simply, the Gran Teatro or the Lorca—shorthand for the Sala García Lorca, the 1500-seat theater where main events are held. The building facade is a poem cast in stone, marble and bronze, exquisitely lit at night, with soaring sculptures representing Theatre, Music, Education, and Charity. Its majesty can be a bit overwhelming and stands as testament to the roots and power of Spanish wealth and influence in Cuba: inaugurated in 1915 after a major overhaul, this was once the Palacio del Centro Gallego, the social club and welcome wagon for transplanted Spaniards. Prior to the Spanish renovation, this space housed the Teatro Tacón, which opened in 1838 with a performance of Verdi’s opera Aida; since then, the list of luminaries who have tread the boards here is long, including Andres Segovia, Ernesto Lecuona, Eliades Ochoa, and of course, Alicia Alonso.
The renovations put a completely new face on the theater, which was in dire need. The facade was scrubbed clean of decades of Havana filth, the ceiling frescoes restored, new seats were installed and the floors now sparkle; the grand ballroom upstairs sits empty, but it’s easy to imagine the Spanish upper crust waltzing around the marble dance floor, peeking at eligible bachelors behind a flirty wave of a fan. There are some interesting sculptures up here and photography opportunities galore, thanks to the wall of windows wrapping around the corner. There are daily tours with a lethargic docent short on facts, but getting access to the renovated spaces and the art gallery upstairs make it worth the $5CUC. The theater re-do included the inauguration of an attached restaurant—Café Intermezzo and the theater’s La Cava is a wonderful place to get a post-performance glass of wine. During intermission, your best bet is to slip into the back bar accessible through a side door inside the theater, a local secret. After dance performances, the ballerinas often have a beer here.
ONE OF CUBA’S DISTINGUISHING CULTURAL features is the omnipresence of Afro-Cuban religions and their adherents: offerings to the saints can be found strewn around town, and the hypnotic thumping of drums used to invoke the deities heard for blocks. Born out of necessity (like much in Cuba), slaves were prevented from practicing their religion, but were permitted to keep and play their drums. In order to continue worshipping their saints or orishas without incurring even more mental and physical abuse from their overlords and other authorities, they masked their native beliefs by overlaying these orishas with saints from the Catholic canon. Similar syncretic systems exist in Brazil (candomblé) and Haiti (vodou).
One of the most striking manifestations of the practice of Yoruba, Santería, Ifá, and other faiths falling under the rubric of Afro-Cuban religions, are initiates clad in white from head to toe—down to their parasols, Bic lighters, and iPhones. You’ll see children as young as two years old dressed as initiates. The rites for initiation are strict and last a year. Technically. Cubans are born rule breakers so many tend to view the rules and rites as suggestions rather than dictums. You will also see people already initiated wearing the beaded necklaces in the colors of their saints (white and red, the colors of Changó, and blue and white, those of Yemayá, are common). Several Havana sites are regular spots for making offerings and supplications to the orishas, including the Bosque de la Habana in Parque Almendares, La Puntilla in Miramar, and along the coast at 1ra and 36A, also in Miramar. Folks walking around town toting chickens or baby goats are on their way to make their offerings.
According to Cuba’s syncretized nomenclature, Saint Barbara is Yemayá, while Saint Lazarus is Babalú Ayé. The best place to learn about how this all works is the Asociación Yoruba de Cuba, a museum and cultural center dedicated to Afro-Cuban religions. There are altars to each orisha explaining a bit of the creation myths behind each, with which Catholic saint they are related, and what offerings they prefer and why. You can hire a guide (likely only Spanish-speaking) at the museum and they have regular tambores, drum ceremonies, where it’s not uncommon for a practitioner to fall into trance and start speaking in tongues. A visit to this museum gives a great overview of the religions and is complemented well by a visit to the black Virgin housed in the Iglesia de Nuestra Señora in Regla. You can have your shells read here and buy flowers to offer to the virgin, who represents Yemayá in the Afro-Cuban canon. Another opportunity to see the mixture of beliefs as they play out in the Cuban context is to join the pilgrimage to El Rincón each December 17th, Saint Lazarus day. On the orishas’ holy days—June 29 (Oggun), September 7 (Yemayá), 8 (Oshun), and 24 (Obatalá)—there are ceremonies, known as toques del santo all over town. The syncopated drumming is hypnotic and runs all night long on these days; you can only enter if you are specifically invited. If you receive an invitation, take it.
WEALTHY LANDOWNERS—GROWING COFFEE, TOBACCO, AND sugar, primarily—saw the writing on the wall and had already begun supplementing slave labor with cheap workers from abroad when the trade was officially abolished in 1867. The first wave was Maya from the Yucatán, followed by a huge influx of Chinese—some 130,000 arrived on Cuban shores in the 20-year period between 1853 and 1874. This so-called “coolie trade” was hardly more humane than the slave trade from Africa it replaced, and Chinese laborers were treated like chattel on the sugar plantations, but over time, a unique miscegenation emerged that today reaches beyond Cuba’s borders. If you’ve ever eaten at a Chinese-Cuban restaurant (New York and Miami are full of them), it’s a result of this centuries-old mixture. Slowly but surely, Chinese immigrants assimilated into Cuban society, mingling with freed blacks and Creoles (those of Spanish heritage born in Cuba) creating a new ethnic mix. Anyone with eyes even slightly almond-shaped is nicknamed “chino” here, something that fiercely irks foreigners of other Asian origins when the 100th Cuban yells out “Hola chino!”
The Chinese in Cuba retained their traditions and culture to the extent that you’ll see groups of elders practicing Tai Chi in parks, kids taking martial arts classes in school yards, and big, multi-colored dragons snaking through the crowd at the annual May Day parade. In recent years, strengthened ties between Cuba and China have led to a wave of Chinese specialists working on engineering, mining, and other projects and thousands of Chinese students matriculating at Cuban universities.
The first stop for getting a glimpse at Cuba’s Chinese community is Barrio Chino—Chinatown. In the preface to Barrio Chino de la Habana: Imagen del Tiempo, by Italian photographer Giuseppe Lo Bartolo, Cuban writer Jaime Saruski gets right to the point: “forget everything by way of comparisons with other Chinese communities such as that of Vancouver, South East Asia, of Latin America and the Chinatowns of San Francisco and New York. If you don’t, you will lose yourself in a labyrinth of questions without answers.” In other words: manage expectations, keep an open mind, and you’ll be pleasantly surprised.
The official entrance to Havana’s Chinatown is at the intersection of Dragones and Galeano streets and is heralded with a spectacular green and
