314 Aguila Street

The seventh floor flat we rented had an easterly view, perhaps a bit south of east. Each morning, the sun slowly snaked around the buildings and through the streets of this old city, bringing shadow and light. An appropriate paradox.

Our flat was in Central Havana, a simple neighborhood populated by local folks and scant few tourists. This was just fine. On the street, quiet mornings quickly gave way to everyday life in La Habana. School kids, taxis, fruit mongers, construction workers, and shops filled with craftsmen - who can repair any piece of machinery that troubles you, while you get a haircut.