Little Havana

The main justification of my weekend in Miami this past February was really to visit and explore the area of Little Havana, a neighborhood filled with Cuban restaurants, cheap knick-knack shops and voodoo boutiques.

After attempting to get information on the area from our hotel and miserably failing, (the concierge unhelpfully told us that the area was unsafe and that we would be much better to take a tour on a bus offered by the hotel), we decided to go it alone, hopping a cab and telling him to take us to the neighborhood and drop us off on the street.

A $30 cab ride later, we found ourselves on a large, busy street with no real idea of where to go. So we started walking.

Little Havana turned out to be a fascinating cultural experience. Sure, the wide streets, cars and architecture were all very American, but the people, the shops, and overall experience were not. Signs in English were few and far between, and a real highlight soon into the adventure turned out to be a Cuban pastry shop where two delicious sweets cost a mere $1.

I could describe in detail all of the adventures, but I feel the pictures speak better for themselves.

Who would want to pay $5 for shoes when you can pay... $3?

Flower Power

When asked for a recommendation for the best Cuban restaurant in Little Havana for lunch, Peter Hernandez ruefully told me that the building in which I was currently standing used to be it.

These days Peter helps his parents run their fruit market in Little Havana, a largely Cuban enclave in Miami Florida. Los Pinareños Fruteria, a bright yellow structure along Calle Ocho has been touted as the ‘last open air farmer’s market in Miami.’ The business has been in the Hernandez family for over 45 years, started when Peter’s parents, young and rebellious at the time, had to escape Castro’s rising regime in Cuba.

But the popular tour bus stop that offers fresh papaya smoothies didn’t use to be just a fruit market; in the 1990s Los Pinareños was a burgeoning restaurant, serving, as Peter says, “some of the best Cuban food in Miami.”

A devastating fire ripped through the building in 1995, destroying everything the Hernandez’s had worked so hard to create. A lack of insurance meant that the space they had paid $68,000 for in 1968 and from which they made their livelihood was gone.

It took three years to rebuild, the money mostly earned from the sale of flowers, the likes of which can still be seen in the forms of beautiful, bright tropical colors.

Now that Cuban Americans are allowed to return to Cuba to visit close relatives, I asked Peter if he planned on going back to his parent’s country. “Out of respect for my parents, I don’t go back to Cuba,” was his response. Elaborating, he told me that his parents were originally farmers, born in the Pinar del Rio region.

“My parents, even though they were uneducated farmers, had to leave their land at the age of 17,” he said. “They were participating in anti-Castro movements, such as throwing rocks at governments buildings in protest.” The couple ended up escaping Cuba for the United States, arriving around 1958. “They wanted a democracy,” Peter simply explained.

Every day, Peter and his parents work at the farmer’s market, telling their story to those who ask, while selling what they have to offer.

Peter hopes that through the sale of fresh fruit smoothies, sandwiches made with a small panini maker and of course flowers, that he and his parents will eventually be able to save up enough money to re-open a restaurant like they once had.