Havana's Heyday

Modernization has its eye on the Cuban capital, but for now the city remains a monument to the quieter life of days gone by.

- Sophie Kalkreuth

On our third evening in Havana, the temperature drops. Then the rain begins, first a light drizzle that makes the cobblestone streets shine, and then a steady downpour that flails against the leaves of banyan trees. My companion and I have forgotten an umbrella so we hail a taxi, a vintage blue-and-white Cadillac that drops us off at a nearby paladar (family-run restaurant).

One of the most overt signs of the effect of Raúl Castro’s economic reform program, which started to gather steam in late 2010, has been the wave of new paladar and casa particular (private homestays). In Havana, the new restaurants, which range from quaint mom-and-pop operations to stylish eateries in colonial houses, are proving Cuba has more up its culinary sleeves than just rice and beans.

By the time we sit down to order, the storm has picked up, and water pounds the shutters and sprays onto the Spanish tile floors. Then suddenly the room goes black, as do the streetlamps and the houses on our block. The entire capital, we learn, is without power. Outside, the streets are quickly becoming rivers and I realize, soberly, that our casa particular is about 30 minutes away, yet neither of us knows in which direction.

Though we are in a mild state of panic, it occurs to me that moments like this once defined travel. Before the advent of mobile phones and Google Maps, a wrong turn down a Roman alley or an unexpected highway blizzard could land you in strange and unexpected situations that demanded improvization, surrender and occasionally a moment of grace.