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the National Assembly is a renewed source of
                                                              pride. The same thing is planned for the neighbor-
                                                              ing Gran Teatro de la Habana, home of the world-
                                                              famous Cuban National Ballet. To our chagrin, we
                                                              did not program attending a performance. A word
                                                              to the wise: obtain tickets upon arrival.
                                                                Carlos knew just where to take us for lunch for
                                                              our first taste of Cuban cuisine. Ropa vieja (old
                                                              clothes) is Cuba’s comfort food, and the specialty
                                                              of the intimate Café Mambo Habana. We dug with
                                                              gusto into Cuba’s classic dish of shredded pork
                                                              stewed with bell peppers and tomatoes, and a side
                                                              of Moros y Cristianos (black beans and rice). We
                                                              were to eat multiple versions of these dishes dur-
                                                              ing our 9 days, and Café Mambo’s was a delicious





























                                                              introduction. Three cooks, all young men, prac-
              “Hola Carlos!” rang out a number of times. Our  ticed their culinary skills in the galley at the back
            guide had grown up in the neighborhood, and       of this diminutive diner.
            these were his “peeps”. “Not many Cubans choose     Our hunger pangs appeased, it was back to
            to live in this area of town anymore, except my   Vedado along the Malecon, the 8-mile long ocean-
            mother!” he exclaimed. He led us down a narrow    front boulevard that skirts Havana Vieja. Dog and
            alley that opened up onto the elegant Paseo del   owners took their daily paseo, and youngsters
            Prado. We stood facing a clone of our capitol     skipped long the sidewalk, or jumped into the
            building. “Our capitol was built with sugar boom  waves that crashed over the low parapet. Silhou-
            money between 1926 and 1929,” said Carlos. He     etted against the gray skies, lone fishermen stood
            added: “It was modeled after the US Capitol but it  on the rocks hoping to reel in a fresh catch.
            is just a little wider and a little taller!” The land-
                                                                 An excursion across the bay allowed us to take
            mark was an eyesore for decades until local au-   the whole Malecon panorama from the fortress of
            thorities undertook its restoration ahead of      Castillo de los Tres Reyes del Morro. The view
            Havana’s 500th anniversary. The process took
                                                              from the ramparts made clear why Spanish ex-
            close to ten years. Today, the resplendent home of


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