Across Havana, Cuba’s apartment buildings and once opulent mansions bear witness to the extremes of history. Enormous trees like the ceiba could be seen growing from the roof and side of a still-inhabited building steps away from El Floridita, one of the bars where Ernest Hemingway famously wiled the hours away drinking naturally lime flavored daiquiris. Similar trees crack the façade of an old multi-family building on La Plaza del Cristo: there state water tanks also attest to the lack of potable drinking water for residents. Mansions, divided up and redistributed to loyalists years ago, bear striking evidence of family’s efforts to brick up and block out the spying eyes of CDRs, simply envious neighbors and the stench of open garbage tanks down below. Cracking columns on a street in Santos Suárez seem to reflect the resilience of their ancient designers as well as those who dare to stand or walk beneath them today.
