Like most Cuban peasants, my uncle Tiki had little or no experience visiting Havana, let alone taking a vacation. For him, who grew up on an isolated farm and lived in a very small town, the capital still seemed imposing, enormous, and slightly treacherous in its mysterious and anonymous way of life. Since 1948 when he participated in a school field trip that his mom (my grandmother) had organized for her rural school, Tiki had not ever been to Havana purely for pleasure. Inviting him to spend the week with me and my personal mini-tour group of Genesis and my son Elías was one of the greatest experiences of my life—and, so he said, his. Out of hundreds of pictures I took of Tiki, from the Morro Fortress to Havana’s best pizzeria, this one (in which he posed before the façade of an unusually well-financed primary school) is the photograph he liked the best. Soy un guajiro de vacaciones, he said proudly. Old Havana, July 2016.