​Romain Nero
​Romain Nero
Luxembourg ​Romain Nero MFIAP Authors

In the streets of Cuba

​Romain Nero

The streets of Cuba pulse with a mix of nostalgia and expectation, as if the entire island is holding its breath. Headlines speak of change, yet daily life moves with its own improvised rhythm, shaped more by people than by politics. Havana’s streets are alive. A Chevy from another era growls past, polished into defiant brilliance. Kids race along uneven sidewalks, dodging potholes and each other. Music spills from open doorways—reggaetón, bolero, a trumpet rehearsal drifting from an upstairs window. The air carries a familiar blend of gasoline, seawater, and the scent of croquetas frying somewhere nearby. In the side streets, balconies sag under clothes hung out to dry, fluttering like small flags of everyday life. Neighbors call to each other across courtyards; someone shouts a greeting from a third-floor window. A group of old men slap domino tiles onto a table with the intensity of a championship match, arguing, laughing, teasing. Vendors sell maní in paper cones. A bicycle mechanic kneels beside a battered frame, coaxing more life from it with tools that seem as old as the street itself. A barman leans in his doorway, muddling a mojito while telling a story that gains drama with every breath. Tourists and locals navigate the dual-currency world with practiced ease. In public squares, clusters of people gather around shared Wi-Fi spots, their faces softly lit by phone screens as they message loved ones abroad or scroll through updates. Despite shortages, despite slow-moving reforms, the city carries a resilient rhythm. People hustle, improvise, share. Music is everywhere. Conversations spill into debates, debates into laughter. Even the peeling paint and rusted ironwork seem to hum with the stubborn beauty of a place that lives fully in its own skin. Cuba’s streets feel suspended between eras—worn but vibrant, limited yet endlessly resourceful, uncertain but hopeful. Here, change whispers at the edges, but the soul of the island remains unmistakably present in every sound, every scent, every human connection.

Back to top