I do not know anything about Havana. I realize it especially when almendrones (old American cars) take another route (very long) and cost up to twenty dollars for a trip that begins at the Park of the Fraternity in the heart of the city. The landscape changes. Noises subside. Green (the land) is present by taking possession on the sides of the road, the houses now tame – down at ground level , people ride bikes , greet each other with a wave of their hands every morning and it’s like they know all of each other’s lives , and the other does not care too much because there is nothing to hide , sometimes no sidewalks but no matter, a rooster sings and earth clean smell that emanates as thanking the vegetation , houses made ” to the possible extent ” , perhaps looking for what it takes to live in peace while the horse cart passes the trash collecting and dodging potholes leaving a repair of pipes that apparently will never end . The boys jump over the holes and go play ball.
In Cotorro people breathe slow, peaceful and cordially smile, every two steps people know each other and answers any questions the visitor friendly. While waiting in the park in the center, opposite the church, I feel that I am happily losing that accelerated Old Havana pace; I feel that this place has seen general strikes and caravan freedom pass, has managed to make peace, its peace. I go to church and a man received me, answered my questions, and dropped curtains for pictures to look good and I shot the altar of St. Peter.
Text taken from the blog Habana por dentro
