Heck yeah, Havana!

I could plod on about the glories in what Havana doesn't have. No billboards (except thee odd party slogan), no Coca-cola or McDonalds, very very few cellphones. Then, I'd probably use the eye-rolling traveller's term, "unspoilt." Then, I'd regret typing that over-used and condescending term.

Instead, let's talk about what Havana has. Friendly, beautiful people! Parcades and plazas! Statues! Cobblestone! Grand, high-ceilinged architecture, bright tropical paint jobs salt-beaten by sea air.

My father and I spent four days there, during which I jittered around on cafe con leche, saw Cuba's muscly national dance company, and almost wore out my Birkenstocks (no easy feat). Then, there was the beach. More on that later. For now, Havana!

Old Havana.

Statue of a Spanish dancer, surveying the square.

Shopping mall, Soviet-style.

Pedicab.

A damn good cafe con leche.

Flea market in the old town.

My father, hanging around the fort.

The Malecon.

Chocolate museum.

The theatre bar, before a show by the National Dance Company.

Our hotel, once frequented by Al Capone.