Departure. Cuba – A Joyful Prince in the Winds of Change

On our last day, we see souvenir markets filled with Cuban musical instruments, colorful art, children painting in the old town, a rock concert on the main square, and walk by the Havana Bay. We also manage to see Lisandra once more. We head toward her second-hand goods stall, but instead she and her boss meet us on the street. A brief farewell — and then, we leave.

One last look at Plaza Vieja — and then we leave.

While waiting for our flight, we meet two English girls, Chloe and Suby. They are playing a card game they simply call the “Memory Game.” They teach it to us, and soon we’re playing round after round together. Later we discover they also know a version of the Estonian card game “Turakas” (which they call “Turak”), and we squeeze in a few quick rounds before it’s time to board.

During this journey, I repeatedly felt that Cuba is unlike any other country I’ve visited. In terms of mentality — a blend of Spanish and African influences — it reminded me most of Brazil. There is the same rhythm of joy in everyday life. Music follows you everywhere: in restaurants, on the streets, at markets, and especially at the nightly dance parties, where locals are always present alongside tourists.

In terms of living standards, however, Cuba feels closer to Ethiopia than to South America. Only about 8% of the population owns a car — and many of those are used as taxis. In Ethiopia, the roads were filled with 1990s Japanese cars and old Ladas. In Cuba, a Lada is considered modern. Instead, you see 1950s American cars driving between grand but faded mansions that have not been properly restored in sixty years. It’s an experience that exists nowhere else.

There are other countries that feel frozen in time (North Korea comes to mind), but in Cuba there is a Caribbean joy that softens the hardship. Communism and poverty do not feel as grim as one might expect — perhaps because the spirit of the people remains so vibrant.

Lonely Planet once wrote: “Cuba is like a prince in a poor man’s clothes.” I like that description. On one hand, before the 1959 communist revolution, Cuba was among the most educated and prosperous nations in the Caribbean. The elegant architecture and classic cars are still there — only faded and worn. On the other hand, the Cuban people themselves carry a certain dignity, like a prince who no longer has his finest garments. If anything, the hardships they have endured may have deepened that dignity.

Epilogue: On December 17, 2014 — less than a month after our departure — U.S. President Barack Obama announced the end of more than 50 years of embargo and the restoration of diplomatic relations with Cuba.

The changes that follow will likely be swift. Many of Cuba’s classic cars may be bought by Americans and shipped to the United States. American tourists will arrive in large numbers, driving prices even higher. Attitudes toward tourists may shift — perhaps toward greater indifference and stronger profit-seeking.

At the same time, through private home-stays and family-run restaurants, ordinary Cubans will benefit directly from increased tourism. And that, I believe, is only fair. Like any people, Cubans deserve the opportunity to improve their lives and to receive proper compensation for their work. They should not remain frozen in time simply so that visitors can observe them like a living museum.

Viva la Cuba!