The Bay of Pigs. The Cold War. The Cuban Missile Crisis.
Say “Cuba,” and that’s what comes to mind for many Americans,
but all that seemed like a distant dream when the 704-passenger Adonia, a cruise ship operated by Fathom Travel and owned
by Carnival Corp., sailed into the Port of Havana on May 2nd.
Dancers gyrating to a hypnotic Afro-Caribbean beat welcomed
us to the island nation that has always been so close, yet so far
away because of decades of travel restrictions. As we made our
way through the terminal, the pulsating rhythm built to a frenetic
crescendo, ratcheting up the excitement surrounding the historic maiden voyage of the first American cruise ship to sail from
the United States to Cuba in almost 40 years. I felt privileged to
be part of it all.
The recent thaw in U.S.-Cuba relations has many Americans eager to visit the mysterious, beguiling neighbor that echoes with
music and shimmers with heat. Because Cuba’s tourism infrastructure is in its infancy, a seven-day cruise that docks in Havana, Cienfuegos and Santiago de Cuba is an attractive option.
OLD HAVANA
A walking tour of Old Havana, a UNESCO World Heritage
Site, showcases centuries-old architectural gems from the
Spanish colonial period. Majestic renovated buildings,
many painted in rainbow pastels, line five cobblestoned
plazas. These venerable grande dames wear their wrought
iron balconies and stained glass windows like eye-catching, heirloom jewelry.
But stray just slightly off the plazas, and the scene changes from one of resplendence to one of neglect and decay.
Paint peels from graffiti-blemished buildings like blistered,
sunburned skin. Rust runs like dirty tears from wrought iron
balconies.
For every building that has been restored, there are at least
two that have not, but that’s Cuba – a juxtaposition of the
best and worst of everything.
I tried to imagine Havana in the heyday of its mid-century
glamour. In the 1940s and 50s, the capital city was the epicenter of hedonistic nightlife for American celebrities who
flocked to this sultry, tropical playground, checking their
inhibitions at the airport upon arrival. A night on the town
meant dressing to the nines and trying your luck at one of
the many Mafia-owned casinos or taking in an over-the-top
cabaret show at the famous Tropicana.
The casinos are long gone, but the 77-year-old Tropicana
is still a Havana hotspot, enticing tourists with sexy, longlegged showgirls sporting feathers, sequins and little else.
Aside from a never-ending parade of vintage cars, the club
is one of the few things that survived the 1959 revolution.
A DAY WITH
THE DEAD
A cemetery may seem like an odd choice for a
shore excursion, but at Cementerio Cristóbal
Colón, I was immediately struck by the ethereal
beauty of the 136-acre sprawling burial ground
named for Christopher Columbus. Ornate mausoleums, crypts and family chapels in architectural
styles ranging from classical to art deco make the
place feel more like a charming sculpture garden
than an ancient necropolis.
As I wandered among the imposing statues, the
soft strumming of a guitar reached me, and I felt
compelled to find its source. In Cuba, impromptu
musical performances have a way of popping up
almost anywhere, but I didn’t expect it here. I followed the soothing melody to a crowd of women
gathered reverently at a towering marble sculpture of a mother holding a baby.
It was the grave of La Milagrosa or “The Miraculous One.” Amelia Goyre de Hoz died in childbirth
in 1901, and her infant son soon followed. The pair
were buried in the same coffin, the baby at the
feet of his mother. According to legend, when the
tomb was opened, the baby was cradled in his
mother’s arms.
La Milagrosa is an unofficial saint, revered as the
protector of children. Many women visit her grave
to pray for a healthy pregnancy.
In a particularly poignant moment, a young woman flung herself at the venerated monument,
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