I spent two weeks in Cuba with a tiny backpack, dusty sneakers, and a pocket full of pesos. I didn’t just read **cool Cuba facts**—I lived them. Think of this as my quick review of Cuba’s quirks, with real moments that stuck to my skin like salt from the sea.
If you want an even deeper dive before you pack your bags, check out LovelyCuba.com for up-to-the-minute guides and local tips.
Those “movie” cars? They’re the daily commute
I rode in a hot-pink 1957 Chevy from Vedado to Old Havana. No air-con. Wind in my face. The driver called it his “almendrón,” which means old almond. He also said he’s a driver by day and a mechanic by night. You know what? It ran smooth, but the engine was a mix of parts from Russia and Japan. Like a big Lego set on wheels. Cool to look at, but real folks use them to get to work.
Music spills into the street
In Trinidad, I heard a guitar and bongo beat float over the plaza at sunset. A grandpa tapped the claves. A kid shook maracas like it was his job. I tried a few salsa steps and stepped right on my own foot. Still fun. In Havana, a trio played “Chan Chan,” and the singer winked like we all knew the words—even if we didn’t. I did later. It stuck in my head for days.
Coffee with a sugar twist
I learned how to order a “cafecito.” Tiny cup. Big punch. The trick? They whip the first drops of espresso with sugar to make a sweet foam called “espuma.” A woman at a window café showed me. She laughed as I sipped it fast, like medicine, and then smiled like I found a secret door.
Two currencies used to exist—now it’s pesos
Folks told me about the old tourist money, but now it’s all Cuban pesos (CUP). I bought mango ice cream in a park for 50 CUP. I also bought an internet card from ETECSA, scratched the code, and logged in at a Wi-Fi park. Kids FaceTimed cousins. Moms sent voice notes. I sat on a bench and watched real life scroll by.
Brushing up on everyday talk helped too; digging through Cuban slang before the trip saved me from blank stares more than once.
Doctors and books are a big deal
I kept seeing small doctor offices in neighborhoods. People told me most folks have a family doctor close by. That neighborhood setup reflects Cuba’s pioneering healthcare model, which focuses on preventive care by placing resident physicians directly within each community.
I walked into a book fair on Paseo del Prado. Teenagers traded paperbacks like baseball cards. Pride in school was loud and real. It made me grin.
Tobacco farms and honey-dipped cigars
In Viñales, a farmer named Don Luis showed me how tobacco leaves dry in big wooden barns. He rolled a cigar by hand and brushed the tip with honey. “It’s softer on the throat,” he said. I don’t smoke much, but I tried one puff. Sweet, earthy, and stronger than it looks. I sat under a palm and watched oxen chew the day away.
Santería shows up in the rhythm of life
I took the ferry to Regla and saw people dressed in white. They carried flowers and small offerings. Drums thumped slow and steady. A woman explained the orishas, and told me to show respect. So I did. No photos. Just quiet eyes and a soft “gracias.”
Hemingway’s hangouts are still busy
I stood at the bar at El Floridita where they pour cold daiquiris. There’s a bronze statue of Hemingway like he just got up to stretch. At La Bodeguita del Medio, the bartender muddled a minty mojito. Later I went to Finca Vigía, his house outside Havana. Old typewriter. Big windows. You can see why words came easy there.
If, after sipping those daiquiris, you’re curious about adding some private companionship to your Havana nightlife itinerary, the city’s professional scene is remarkably organized—check out the well-curated listings on FuckLocal’s escort directory to browse verified profiles, compare rates, and arrange meetings with confidence and discretion.
Building on that, maybe you’d prefer to arrange something a bit more upscale before wheels even touch the tarmac; the discreet agency at Republic Escorts lets travelers pre-book bilingual, university-educated companions, complete with verified photos and transparent rates so you can line up evening plans without any street negotiations.
Baseball is the heartbeat
I went to a game at Estadio Latinoamericano. The Industriales played, and the crowd sang as loud as any rock show. Peanut sellers waved bags in the aisles. A dad kept score for his kid on a folded program. A line drive cracked, and I flinched even from far up. Fast doesn’t begin to cover it.
Towns that feel like time travel
Before I racked up blisters, I skimmed a role-play style guide on Cuba’s cities, which helped me decide where to wander first.
- Old Havana: Blue balconies. Cracked paint. Big smiles. The Malecón seawall turned gold at sunset. Everyone sat there—couples, grandmas, teens with speakers.
- Trinidad: Cobblestone streets and bright houses. I tripped twice and laughed both times.
- Cienfuegos: French-style arches and a calm bay. A quiet beauty, like a deep breath.
I also got wonderfully turned around in Camagüey’s maze-like streets; my inner compass failed, but the adventure matched this lively tale of getting lost on purpose in Camagüey.
Street bites I still crave
My stomach led most of the itinerary, and guides like this messy, tasty food review proved priceless when deciding what to grab next. Spoiler: Cuban pizza is its own universe—crispy-edge, oozy-center and every bit as fun as this first-hand pizza verdict suggests. If you’ve got a sugar tooth, hop over to Calle Ocho for pastelitos and more; this dessert deep-dive will have you drooling in advance. And don’t skip a drizzle of zesty Cuban mojo sauce wherever pork shows up.
Pan con lechón. Hot pork piled on soft bread. A medianoche sandwich at, well, midnight. Churros dusted in sugar from a tiny cart. I tried a “Cuban sandwich,” but locals nodded and said, “That’s more of a Miami thing.” Fair point. Still tasty.
Little creatures, big wow
Cuba’s national bird is the tocororo. The tocororo, or Cuban trogon, flashes red, white, and blue feathers that echo the flag and stand as a living symbol of freedom and the island’s remarkable biodiversity.
I didn’t spot that one, but I did see giant iguanas sunning near the coast. A guide told me the world’s smallest bird—the bee hummingbird—lives in Cuba. I kept watching flowers, just in case.
Getting around, the real way
I used a “colectivo,” a shared taxi, to hop across town. Cheap and friendly, and yes, you squeeze in. I took a Viazul bus between cities. Slow, but comfy. A local joked, “Time is a suggestion.” He wasn’t wrong. I learned to relax and carry snacks.
My quick hits: true things I touched, tasted, or heard
- Havana Club rum goes down smooth in a simple Cuba Libre with lime.
- Fusterlandia is a wild mosaic neighborhood—bright tiles, big smiles. Felt like walking inside a painting.
- At Playa Girón (Bay of Pigs), the small museum shares a tough slice of history.
- Street dominoes get loud. I lost twice and still got high fives.
What I loved
- Warm, curious people
- Music at sunset on the Malecón
- Fresh mangoes the size of my hand
- Colors—walls, cars, clothes—like a candy box
What was tricky (but teachable)
- Internet was spot