Cuba 2016 — Chris Stanford

Carrie and I awoke on the morning of Saturday, 26 November, to the news that Fidel Castro, Cuba’s leader of nearly 60 years, had died at the age of 90. Later that day, we flew to Havana for a pre-planned vacation.

The Cuban flag at the Parque Antonio Maceo, along Havana's famous Malecón.

The first adjective to describe Cuba is "complicated." Cubans aren't allowed to open their own businesses, but they can run the equivalent -- be it a room for rent, a restaurant or a hair salon -- out of their homes. We stayed in a casa particula

The light in the Caribbean makes even a journeyman photographer look good.

A panorama of Havana as seen from the balcony of our room in Vedado.

Our delightful hosts, Armando and Betty Gutiérrez.

A notice posted outside our building re: the week's events memorializing Fidel Castro.

Havana, looking west from the FOCSA Building (named after its construction company). Opened in 1956, it's the tallest building in the city.

Part of the line waiting to pay respects to Fidel at Havana's Plaza de la Revolución.

Tributes to Fidel at the Plaza de la Revolución.

The man, his medals and state employees.

Public tributes to Fidel were relatively subdued in Havana; aside from the turnout at the Plaza de la Revolución, the occasional storefront marquee was the only indication that Castro had died. At this cinema: "Hasta la victoria siempre Fidel" (To v

Meanwhile, it's hard to take a bad photograph in Havana.

At the La Bodeguita del Medio: A sign over the tourist-choked (and -autographed) bar, in Habana Vieja, features an alleged quote from Ernest Hemingway: "My mojito in the Bodeguita del Medio and my daiquiri in the Floridita." No idea if it's true,

Modeled after the U.S. Capitol, el Capitolio was the seat of Cuba's government until the revolution in 1959. Juxtaposed with a denuded palm resembling a miniature Washington Monument amused this former Washingtonian.

Opened in 1958 and operated by Hilton Hotels, the Habana LIbre became the headquarters of (or was seized by) Castro the next year.

A display at the disappointingly amatuerish Museo de la Revolución. History is written by the winners; in this case, Cuba after the Bay of Pigs. The caption under the front page reads: "Yankee imperialism was defeated in Latin America for the fir

"Che" Guevara's image is far more iconic in Cuba than Fidel's is. Ironically, or not, there are more retail opportunities in the museum dedicated to the revolution than can be found in a radius of several blocks in downtown Havana.

The Cubans have cell phones, but pay phones are a reality in a way that's now unknown in the U.S. or Europe.

Los Amigos, a paladar (restaurant) in Vedado.

I ate ropa vieja at Los Amigos, lobster and steak here at Atelier. Cubans produce a lot from little. Wait until they have it all.

The sunsets in Havana, aided by the city's noxious diesel fumes, are glorious. From left, a statue honoring José Martí, who fought for Cuba's independence during the late 19th century; the Gran Teatro de la Habana, home of the Cuban National Ball

Behind the wheel of a 1955 Buick Century.

The Old Lady and the Sea. (Caption pre-approved.) Taking a break from hectic Havana for a weekend at the beach.

We arrived in Cuba at the beginning of a nine-day national mourning period for Fidel. The practical effect: There was no music -- even taxi drivers turned down their normally blaring radios -- and little alcohol -- only hotels were allowed to ser

Carrie & Papa & me: Awkward selfie with a statue of Hemingway, perched at the end of the bar at El Floridita.

The interior of Finca Vigía, Hemingway's home outside Havana. Many books, many guns, many big game trophies.

A drive along the Malecón. Featuring a 1955 Buick Century, the back of the Hotel Nacional and Carrie's invaluable Spanish, this is the start of a tour of Havana by one of the city's ubiquitous classic American cars. One of the first lessons of Cuba: Establish the price in advance.

We arrived in Cuba at the beginning of a nine-day national mourning period for Fidel. The practical effect: There was no music -- even taxi drivers turned down their normally blaring radios -- and little alcohol -- only hotels were allowed to serve . . . legally.