\nNowhere embodies Cuba\u2019s revolutionary ideals quite like this true \u201cpeople\u2019s park\u201d offering a for-pennies indulgence for the masses\u2026 who wait… and wait… and wait, with feverish anticipation to pig out on as much ice cream as they can stuff into their bellies and handbags. Novels have been written here, music scores conceived (this being Cuba, perhaps even babies).<\/p>\n
![\"Photo](\"https:\/\/oncubanews.com\/wmag\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/04\/Coppelia-Christopher-Baker-1.jpg\")
<\/a>Cuba\u2019s rich diversity can be found standing in line at Coppelia on a sunny afternoon. Queuing with the Cubans is what makes the Coppelia experience so rewarding. The lines buzz with flirting and chatter. Each section has its own cola (line), proportional in length to the strength of the sun. Determining the last person in line isn\u2019t easy: ask for \u201c\u00bfel ultimo?\u201d That\u2019s because Cuban lines are never static. While some habaneros wander off to sit in the shade, others disappear from view altogether to reappear at the critical moment, when the cola coalesces in perfect order as if by osmosis.
\nAll talk ends once Cubans are seated. Slurping helado is a heads-down, communal homage at shared tables. Conversation barely rises above a murmur, as if Coppelia truly were a cathedral. The ice cream\u2014served with taciturn efficiency by waitresses in 1950s plaid miniskirts\u2014wins no awards. But, to me, no other experience speaks so sweetly to Cuba\u2019s iconic revolutionary idealism.
\nYou\u2019ll need moneda nacional, as convertibles aren\u2019t accepted. Resist being steered toward a \u201ctourist\u201d section offering immediate service for an exorbitant CUC1 per scoop. Order at least a five-scoop ensalada. Any less and your waitress will assume you made an error.<\/p>\n
RIDING A MAQUINA<\/h3>\n![\"Photo](\"https:\/\/oncubanews.com\/wmag\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/04\/almlendrones-christopher-baker-1.jpg\")
<\/a>Photo by Christopher P. Baker<\/figcaption><\/figure>\nHiring a sexed up Eisenhower-era convertible classic for a ride along the Malec\u00f3n is de rigueur for the first-time visitor. After which, it\u2019s time to travel around town like a Cuban. That means hailing a m\u00e1quina. Not to be confused with the luxury \u201850s sedans that hang outside hotels, these lesser-quality jalopies do duty as licensed collective taxis (colectivos) that run along fixed routes just like buses, and charge 10 pesos (50 cents) for any distance.
\nPeso taxis were once forbidden to give rides to foreigners, who were required to stick to state-owned taxis. (More than once I was asked to bob down or look away whenever we passed a policeman!) These days they\u2019re more democratic. Packed to the gills, they lumber off on well-worn, sagging tires amid a crunching of worn gears and backfiring from weary exhausts. To avoid getting scolded by the chofer, don\u2019t slam the door!
\nIt\u2019s hellafun as you bounce down potholed Neptuno to the rhythm of reggaeton on the radio.<\/p>\n
HANGING ON THE MALEC\u00d3N<\/h3>\n![\"Photo](\"https:\/\/oncubanews.com\/wmag\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/04\/taxi-habana-christopher-baker-1.jpg\")
<\/a>Photo by Christopher P. Baker<\/figcaption><\/figure>\nKnown officially as Avenida Antonio Maceo, and more commonly as \u201cel Malec\u00f3n\u201d (literally \u201cembankment\u201d or \u201cseawall\u201d), Havana\u2019s seafront boulevard edging sinuously along the Atlantic shoreline offers a microcosm of city life: The elderly walking their dogs; musicians practicing on trombones and trumpets; fishers casting their lines or casting off on great inner tubes (neum\u00e1ticos); dreamers staring wistfully toward Miami.
\nTo visit Cuba and not walk the Malec\u00f3n would be liking visiting Paris without ascending the Eiffel Tower. Except\u2026 merely strolling the promenade doesn\u2019t cut it. You have to hang on a weekend evening and be a play-actor in Havana\u2019s dynamic open-air theater.
\nFairly quiet on a weekday afternoon, it mutates at night, when thousands of youth gather to socialize and party alfresco, especially at the foot of La Rampa. Bottles of rum are passed around. Music drowns out the crash of waves. And scores of couples unashamedly fondle, neck, and even make love. One reason the Malec\u00f3n is known as \u201cHavana\u2019s sofa.\u201d<\/p>\n
WATCH A BASEBALL GAME<\/h3>\n
More so than yanquis, Cubans are baseball fanatics. In fact, be\u00edsbol is a passion second only to sex as the national sport.
\nWatching a baseball game in Cuba is a whole different experience than Stateside. There\u2019s no Budweiser- or Chevrolet-sponsored Jumbotron (thank goodness!). The only \u201cads\u201d exhort patriotism, loyalty, hard work, and \u201cRevoluci\u00f3n, si!\u201d Forget between-innings giveaways. And alcohol isn\u2019t allowed, although vendors come around hawking refrescos (soft drinks), ham sandwiches and popcorn. Oh\u2026 and don\u2019t expect the toilets to flush, or even have seats.
\nAficionados\u2014including plenty of kids, families, and single women\u2014hunker in the shady spots of the sun-beaten stadiums, which resound to a cacophony of bongo drums, trumpets, and horns. It\u2019s the most fun you can have in Cuba for one convertible (Cubans pay a mere 5 pesos; 20 cents).<\/p>\n
DOMINOES<\/h3>\n
<\/a>Hiring a sexed up Eisenhower-era convertible classic for a ride along the Malec\u00f3n is de rigueur for the first-time visitor. After which, it\u2019s time to travel around town like a Cuban. That means hailing a m\u00e1quina. Not to be confused with the luxury \u201850s sedans that hang outside hotels, these lesser-quality jalopies do duty as licensed collective taxis (colectivos) that run along fixed routes just like buses, and charge 10 pesos (50 cents) for any distance.
\nPeso taxis were once forbidden to give rides to foreigners, who were required to stick to state-owned taxis. (More than once I was asked to bob down or look away whenever we passed a policeman!) These days they\u2019re more democratic. Packed to the gills, they lumber off on well-worn, sagging tires amid a crunching of worn gears and backfiring from weary exhausts. To avoid getting scolded by the chofer, don\u2019t slam the door!
\nIt\u2019s hellafun as you bounce down potholed Neptuno to the rhythm of reggaeton on the radio.<\/p>\n
HANGING ON THE MALEC\u00d3N<\/h3>\n<\/a>Photo by Christopher P. Baker<\/figcaption><\/figure>\nKnown officially as Avenida Antonio Maceo, and more commonly as \u201cel Malec\u00f3n\u201d (literally \u201cembankment\u201d or \u201cseawall\u201d), Havana\u2019s seafront boulevard edging sinuously along the Atlantic shoreline offers a microcosm of city life: The elderly walking their dogs; musicians practicing on trombones and trumpets; fishers casting their lines or casting off on great inner tubes (neum\u00e1ticos); dreamers staring wistfully toward Miami.
\nTo visit Cuba and not walk the Malec\u00f3n would be liking visiting Paris without ascending the Eiffel Tower. Except\u2026 merely strolling the promenade doesn\u2019t cut it. You have to hang on a weekend evening and be a play-actor in Havana\u2019s dynamic open-air theater.
\nFairly quiet on a weekday afternoon, it mutates at night, when thousands of youth gather to socialize and party alfresco, especially at the foot of La Rampa. Bottles of rum are passed around. Music drowns out the crash of waves. And scores of couples unashamedly fondle, neck, and even make love. One reason the Malec\u00f3n is known as \u201cHavana\u2019s sofa.\u201d<\/p>\n
WATCH A BASEBALL GAME<\/h3>\n
More so than yanquis, Cubans are baseball fanatics. In fact, be\u00edsbol is a passion second only to sex as the national sport.
\nWatching a baseball game in Cuba is a whole different experience than Stateside. There\u2019s no Budweiser- or Chevrolet-sponsored Jumbotron (thank goodness!). The only \u201cads\u201d exhort patriotism, loyalty, hard work, and \u201cRevoluci\u00f3n, si!\u201d Forget between-innings giveaways. And alcohol isn\u2019t allowed, although vendors come around hawking refrescos (soft drinks), ham sandwiches and popcorn. Oh\u2026 and don\u2019t expect the toilets to flush, or even have seats.
\nAficionados\u2014including plenty of kids, families, and single women\u2014hunker in the shady spots of the sun-beaten stadiums, which resound to a cacophony of bongo drums, trumpets, and horns. It\u2019s the most fun you can have in Cuba for one convertible (Cubans pay a mere 5 pesos; 20 cents).<\/p>\n
DOMINOES<\/h3>\n
<\/a>Known officially as Avenida Antonio Maceo, and more commonly as \u201cel Malec\u00f3n\u201d (literally \u201cembankment\u201d or \u201cseawall\u201d), Havana\u2019s seafront boulevard edging sinuously along the Atlantic shoreline offers a microcosm of city life: The elderly walking their dogs; musicians practicing on trombones and trumpets; fishers casting their lines or casting off on great inner tubes (neum\u00e1ticos); dreamers staring wistfully toward Miami.
\nTo visit Cuba and not walk the Malec\u00f3n would be liking visiting Paris without ascending the Eiffel Tower. Except\u2026 merely strolling the promenade doesn\u2019t cut it. You have to hang on a weekend evening and be a play-actor in Havana\u2019s dynamic open-air theater.
\nFairly quiet on a weekday afternoon, it mutates at night, when thousands of youth gather to socialize and party alfresco, especially at the foot of La Rampa. Bottles of rum are passed around. Music drowns out the crash of waves. And scores of couples unashamedly fondle, neck, and even make love. One reason the Malec\u00f3n is known as \u201cHavana\u2019s sofa.\u201d<\/p>\n
WATCH A BASEBALL GAME<\/h3>\n
More so than yanquis, Cubans are baseball fanatics. In fact, be\u00edsbol is a passion second only to sex as the national sport.
\nWatching a baseball game in Cuba is a whole different experience than Stateside. There\u2019s no Budweiser- or Chevrolet-sponsored Jumbotron (thank goodness!). The only \u201cads\u201d exhort patriotism, loyalty, hard work, and \u201cRevoluci\u00f3n, si!\u201d Forget between-innings giveaways. And alcohol isn\u2019t allowed, although vendors come around hawking refrescos (soft drinks), ham sandwiches and popcorn. Oh\u2026 and don\u2019t expect the toilets to flush, or even have seats.
\nAficionados\u2014including plenty of kids, families, and single women\u2014hunker in the shady spots of the sun-beaten stadiums, which resound to a cacophony of bongo drums, trumpets, and horns. It\u2019s the most fun you can have in Cuba for one convertible (Cubans pay a mere 5 pesos; 20 cents).<\/p>\n