Making a living as an architect is tough anywhere. But in Cuba it is essentially impossible. Although Raúl Castro has loosened state control of the economy a bit, the private sector still barely exists. All legally-sanctioned construction is done by the government. And everyone agrees that a government salary doesn’t cover anyone’s monthly expenses. Cubans, though, are resourceful and somehow find ways to make ends meet. Over coffee at the Habana Libre Hotel (originally the Havana Hilton), I kept asking a respected local architect what he was working on and kept hearing about fascinating research projects, none of which produced any income. I finally gave up all pretense of politeness and bluntly asked, “But how do you make money?” He told me on the condition I don’t reveal his identity: He gives lectures abroad and employs convoluted ways to bring the funds back home.
Six days in Havana earlier this year introduced me to a place where five decades of economic stagnation explain only the surface reality: 1958 Chevies still rumbling down the streets, 19th-century villas holding onto their Neoclassical charms as they fade in the Caribbean sun, and low-rise streetscapes broken only by church spires or the occasional Modern tower the same age as those big-bodied cars. Dig a bit deeper, though, and you find a more complex reality: people like that architect who somehow push forward despite institutional indifference, opposition, and a city that is slowly preparing for the future.
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