There’s something to be said for being up at this hour, aside from studying in Norlin all night. Havana is quiet, uncharacteristic of its daytime self, as though it’s gearing up for the day ahead. It’s that hour before the sun is fully up, where its not pitch black out, so you have that soft glow coming through the shutter windows. It’s been an incredible few days, so while I wait for the sun, I’m reading The Old Man and the Sea, sipping on some Cuban coffee (as delicious as they warned), and practicing my Cuban Spanish with the servers and bartenders in the lobby of Hotel Plaza. This place is special. Cuba has taken all of my expectations, shattered them, and transformed them into the more extreme versions of themselves. Let me explain. I came here expecting to learn how to salsa dance, but instead I have salsa danced every night since I arrived and will only agree to go out if I’m promised the chance to dance some more. I expected the coffee to be better than Starbucks and the cigars to be easily-accessible, but the coffee is rich and delicious and the cigars hang out of pretty much everyone’s mouths, man, woman, or (reasonably aged) child, and can be found for sale on every street corner. I expected Cuba to be beautiful and damaged, but in reality it is beautifully damaged, preserved with what I presume to be tobacco ash, and has created opportunity out of its damage; as business students, we have a lot to learn from this place.
Over the past few days, I have explored the University of Havana, where my ancestors attended, I’ve visited an antique auto restoration shop and asked plenty of questions to its owner. Believe it or not, running a business anywhere in the world holds its own sets of risks and rewards, developing countries included. Actually, developing countries especially. I’ve ridden around in those classic cars Cuba is famous for, smoked plenty of cigars, played chess and fútbol with little kids from an after school program, and learned how to properly dance salsa. I’m exhausted, but I’m in a land famous for its coffee, so I expect to be just fine for the remainder of the trip. After listening to the owner of the auto restoration ship, it is even harder to imagine life here permanently. As a business owner, he has so many expenses to cover with very little means to do so. Each car he purchases costs him around $12,000, and if it weren’t for his family and friends in the United States to help him out, he would not be able to invest in the cars and turn them into profit, nor would he be able to provide jobs for his drivers and his mechanics. It is commonly known that in business, it takes money to make money, and in a country under so much control like Cuba, it is clear just how true this statement can be. With the recent lift of the embargo, one can only hope for less restrictions by the government and in turn, more opportunity for people like Nostalgicar’s owners.
The rest of my night was spent salsa dancing, and of course, visiting new city Havana with some friends. It was too far to walk, so we took taxis, rolled the windows down, and enjoyed the sweet Cuban air. At the end of the night, when the majority of the group was ready to go back, the last of us who had some energy left walked down to the Malecon to finish the night they way we’re told you’re supposed to in Havana. It was one of those nights I won't soon forget.
