Like a Cuban
I spent 15 days in Cuba during the month of February, reporting on hotels, restaurants and the nightlife for the June issue of Cigar Aficionado, which is on newsstands now. That's long enough to start sounding like a Cuban (their accent is, shall we say, a bit difficult), eating like a Cuban (daily doses of black beans and rice) and living every day like a lot of Cubans by staying out late at night and not rushing to greet the morning.
While I was there living the life, I thought it would be fun to do some things that departed from the usual touristy activities of visiting museums, riding around in vintage U.S. automobiles and digging around the shelves of the city's great cigar shops. So I figured if I was going to sound like a Cuban and eat like a Cuban, I might as well take a stab at really looking like a Cuban. And, what is more symbolic of how we view the island's people than their dances and their dress?
How does a middle-aged journalist learn how to dance like a Cuban? Some wags might say that's impossible. But, of course, he hires a young dance teacher for a lesson. Her name was Yakima, and she is a professional dancer at the Club Parisien in the Hotel Nacional, where she performs in a nightly dance extravaganza. For an hour in the living room of a friend's house, we worked on the moves for "casino," the most popular dance among Cuba's youth today, but also two more traditional dances, Cha-Cha-Cha and the Conga. By the end of the hour, she was very diplomatic: "You need to work on it every day for another 364 days and you'll have it." Yakima can be reached through the tour agency, InCloud9.
If you don't have a living room, or the free pass to hire a pretty young dance instructor, there is a dance studio in Habana Vieja where you can pay by the hour. It's called La Casa del Son, and it's on Empredrado No. 411 on the corner with Aguacate.
Rates are very reasonable: 15 cuc (about $16.95 when you factor in the penalty for changing dollars to cucs) for one hour, 25 cuc ($28.25) for two hours, and a 10-hour package for 120 cuc ($135.60). The studio's windows are open to the street, so you can check it out before jumping all in.
The next time you are in Havana, tapping your foot keeping time with the music, you can get up and move to the music, like everyone else around you. Oh, I won't deny you may have to be born to do it right, but in fact, the steps are pretty basic. If you have any aptitude for dance, it's just a matter of letting go, which is not that hard to do in Havana, especially with some help from the national drink—rum.
Dressing the part is a little bit easier. The traditional shirt of Cuba is called a guayabera. The classic style is an open neck, with four pockets, and buttons running almost down to the hemline. It's loose fitting, or should be, and the lighter the material, the happier you will be in warm climes.
The most folkloric shop to find these shirts is called El Quitrin in Habana Vieja, on the corner of San Ignacio and Obispo streets. The fabric of choice here is linen; I wouldn't call it the highest quality linen in the world, but the shirts are beautiful, with either a formal brocade, or pressed pleats, on the front. They do have short-sleeve versions, but the classic is still one with long sleeves. I was looking for a black linen guayabera, but they were out of stock. It took a few tries to find the right size for a white shirt. I would recommend you just keep trying on shirts until you find one that fits perfectly.
For an extra 5 cuc you can custom-order a shirt, but it will take two to three days for it to be ready so plan ahead if El Quitrin is on your shopping list. Don't worry about the extra money. The pleated front shirt sells for about $28, and the formal brocaded version goes for about $37. It's a deal. They often have linen pants, too, although they were out when I bought my guayabera. But whatever you end up buying, you will walk out feeling that you look a Cuban.
Sound like fun? You bet it was. Now if I could just remember those dance steps.
