Quite absorbed by the critical circumstances unfolding in Cuba, and moved by the struggles of the Cuban people I encountered, I’ve been forgetting to talk about ‘the good stuff’—or the many reasons why this island is so precious and has become dear to my heart. So, promising to keep the mood as cheerful as possible this time, I’ll share a few stories about how awesome and worthy of love Cuba is. Stories of why I fell in love with this sunny island, with its colourful countryside and serene shores. Of why even Valentine’s Day became meaningful to me here. Of how the Cuban people taught me yet another lesson—how to love one another.
All in all, a declaration of love to Cuba—and the Cubans—and the reason why I decided to stay in Cuba a bit longer.
Exactly one week ago, I spent Valentine’s Day in the gorgeous town of Trinidad. While I never cared too much about Valentine’s Day in the past, Cuba made me change my mind about it. Experiencing how genuinely excited the Cubans were for such a celebration—towards their lovers and friends alike—made me feel even more connected to this country and its people. I received several messages of felicidades, of sincere wishes for a day devoted to acknowledging the importance of being together, and appreciating the bonds of love and friendship that are essential to all of our lives.
In Trinidad, I was staying at the welcoming casa particular of Deivy and Danielys and their family, including their two daughters and Danielys’ parents. On Valentine’s Day, they invited me to have dinner with the whole family and the other guests, a lovely Spanish-French couple (Olga and Pasquale). While Deivy took care of grilling generous portions of fresh fish and lobsters, Danielys prepared all the side dishes (rice, fried plantains, and a beautiful fresh salad). She also delighted everyone with a homemade arroz con leche, a rice and milk pudding, topped with cinnamon and cutely decorated by the girls with hearts and the letter ‘A’—standing for Amor.
This family was, in many ways, the perfect embodiment of Amor. Deivy and Danielys cared deeply for each other, their children and parents, and welcomed all guests with a big smile and contagious positivity, through any circumstance. Deivy is the kind of guy who would do anything to make things work for others—like when he arranged for me, in a matter of minutes, a new colectivo to get back to La Habana, as the first one (poorly arranged by me) had not shown up. Meanwhile, Danielys would offer kind words of reassurance and patient explanations of Deivy’s good-hearted impatience as he sorted out any issues for his guests. I will always remember them eagerly waiting outside the front door as I arrived, and waving goodbye again and again as the colectivo drove me away from their home.
As I went out after dinner, on Valentine’s Day, I was truly mesmerised. I had never seen so many people on the streets of the usually dark and empty Cuban centres. But that day was different. It was time to celebrate love and friendship, so all Cubans were out there—hugging each other, greeting each other with felicidades, and dancing their worries away. No power blackout would have stopped them, on such a night. It felt as if the lights were always on, on Valentine’s night.
I spent the rest of Valentine’s night in my favourite music hall in Trinidad—Casa de la Trova—a small but charming and authentic place where people of all sorts would hang out—local people, one-time tourists, and foreigners who, due to an addiction to these music nights, had decided to stay around for longer. I could never get tired of admiring the excellent Cuban dancers who would pirouette impeccably on the dance floor to the sound of Cuban son. Halfway through the night, the elegant trovador took the stage, interpreting—through his powerful singing—praises of love and longing. It was Amor made music, as reflected by the words of Pablo Milanés’ song ‘Yolanda’: “Esto no puede ser no más que una canción, quisiera fuera una declaración de amor” (This can’t be just a song, I wish it were a declaration of love).
Cuba is one of the most beautiful places on earth —another reason why I love it. I left pieces of my heart across many of the places I visited. A piece on top of a mogote in Viñales, where I arrived at dawn, absorbed by the gentle morning light and the heartwarming colours of the fields —ochre, bottle green, earth brown, brick red—, growing brighter and brighter. I left another piece at the farthest edge of Playa de Ancón, after a long bike ride and another few kilometres walking on the pristine white beach. As I reached the farthest tip of the Ancón peninsula, I could see, within the frame of a perfectly blue and sunny sky, the entire bay and the distant profile of magnificent coastal mountains.
Without a doubt, I wouldn’t have fallen in love with Cuba if it hadn’t been for the many people I met, who taught me essential lessons on how to love and care for one another. I have already talked about many of them, but the list keeps growing, day by day. Carmen, an eclectic woman, radio presenter and a passionate storyteller of the history of Cienfuegos, reminded me of the importance of self-love, and of giving a little gift to oneself, too, on Valentine’s day. Francisco, whom I met on the streets of Trinidad, shared his love for Italian music—particularly Adriano Celentano—making a good attempt to sing his song ‘L’emozione non ha voce’. Norberto, a very polite man who shared with me his love for Cuban history and culture, by taking me on a personalised tour of Trinidad—and eventually gave me a music CD and a few postcards filled with loving words. Carlos, whom I met at an observatory on a hill above Trinidad, guided my eyes through the beloved vast fields of Valle de los Ingenios, and through the gentle mountains ofTopes de Collantes. Geraldo, known as El Che for his last name (Guevara), a shepherd on a horse who was taking his 21 sheep to pasture, shared his love for his children who had left for the US, though longing every day to return to the warm and sunny Cuba. Danielys, the mother of Dylan, a 7-year-old child born with congenital disabilities, shared her deep love for her son and her dedication to fighting for his well-being, in a country where she gets little to no support, and where health and educational resources are disappearing. Dylan himself, eager for the stereo to be turned on so he could start a joyful dance, showed me how—even in the most disadvantaged conditions—loving people can help us take many steps forward.
These were supposed to be my last days in Cuba, but when it was time to leave, I realised I couldn’t. This country and its people had given me so much. Why couldn’t I try to give something back to them, who are in critical need at this moment? Shouldn’t I put to good use the lessons of love I’ve learned around here? That’s why I decided to stay in Cuba a little longer.
A Cuba, mi Amor.
I’m back in La Habana and have been looking into organisations and ways to help those who are suffering the most, right now, due to the harsh consequences of the U.S. tightening embargo on the island. If you’d like to help with a donation, please reach out. More information on the organisations will follow in the coming days.
Gracias a la vida 
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