Cuba, my dear spot

José Martí, on Calle Ocho, in Little Havana, Miami. Photo: Kaloian.

The mythical Little Havana

September 28, 2024

I was walking down a street in Centro Habana when I ran into an open window from which Benny Moré’s voice came out with his “Lajas, mi rincón querido, pueblo donde yo nací” (Lajas, my dear spot, town where I was born). I stopped and I stayed close to the house to listen. I stood there until the end of the song. I continued with my camera in hand and, while photographing, the King of Rhythm’s voice sounded in my head like a ritornello.

The street and its people. Photo: Kaloian.

Street vegetable vendor. Photo: Kaloian.

A spot is a small and generally set aside space within a larger place; in a room, a house, or even outdoors. They are usually intimate areas, in which to find some privacy or tranquility. Metaphorically, it can be a personal refuge, a place full of significant memories; a starting point, a destination, and a return.

Returning to these spaces is a way to keep personal and collective history alive. While walking through the streets of a city that welcomed me for years, a series of images loaded with nuances are arrayed before my camera. Surely it was always like that; but the distance makes the gaze acquire some foreign, strange look; while still being close.

The city’s great sofa. In the background, El Morro. Photo: Kaloian.

The Malecón has historically been a lovers’ site. Photo: Kaloian.

Cuba, and its people, are my dear spot. It will always be, as a lifesaver in the middle of the open sea. I treasure, under any circumstance and anywhere, the voices, looks, gestures, smells, sounds, flavors, and laughs of this corner of the world. When I again make contact with all that, my connection with the beloved spot is renewed with overwhelming force.