By Jay Amberg Bloomberg Lifestyles. Cigar News. Mon, 10 Jul 2000, 12:00pm EDT. Bloomberg.com
Havana, July 7 -- It gets humid come July in Havana. The heat I can take, the humidity is something else. It's downright oppressive.
The summer humidity in Havana weighs like a hand-iron on your chest. Walk out of an air-conditioned building onto the street and a feeling of lightheadedness overtakes you as you walk into what feels like a steam bath.
That clean polo shirt you're wearing is soon soaked and your khaki slacks seem glued to your skin.
Black smoke belching from passing Camels (Cuba's hump-backed motorized public transit coaches) doesn't make breathing any easier, nor do the broken tail pipes of hundreds of 1950s Chevys, Fords and Chryslers.
Miami, Caracas, San Juan, Cancun and Kingston all have a similar climate, but there's something about Havana that seems to compound the three Hs: hazy, hot and humid.
Maybe it's the old buildings or the narrow streets and the press of humanity in Havana Vieja.
Walk down Calle Obispo, a main thoroughfare in old Havana that extends from the famous El Floridita bar to the harbor, and you'll see that most Cubans traversing this artery are jammed on the shady side of the street.
Women carry hand fans or small umbrellas, while men wear the traditional Cuban heat-beater, a white loose fitting guayabera, or no shirt at all.
Summer Flu
I have no clue what the ozone levels are in Havana in the summer, but I'm sure by U.S. standards they'd be off the scale. Stale can't begin to describe the stillness of the morning air.
Even Cubans suffer. The baking sun and humidity bring on what some residents of Havana call the ``summer flu.'' Back home we call it a sinus infection and bronchitis.
I'd been forewarned by my Cuban friends that Havana's summer flu was making the rounds so I came prepared with ample supplies of Robitussin CF, antibiotics, Advil and nasal spray.
I needed the stuff, too, because in a matter of days my head felt like it weighed 100 pounds, my chest was congested and I was running a low-grade fever at night.
So much for Havana night-life.
For most travelers, packing pharmaceuticals makes good sense. In Cuba, because of the U.S. trade embargo, most of these items aren't available. Such simple remedies as ibuprofen or a basic cough syrup are out of reach to most Cubans.
Everywhere I went in Havana someone was complaining of the sniffles or a congested chest.
``When this humidity comes we all get a little sick. There's not much we can do. Even Fidel (Castro) can't change the weather,'' my friend Jorge said when he met me at Jose Marti International Airport.
With the heat and humidity, even the best of the European and Japanese installed air-conditioning systems are prone to break down.
``Cuba in the summer, especially Havana, will test even the best air-conditioning equipment,'' said a Cuban-born friend who sells Panasonic electronic equipment in Havana through a company based in Panama. ``The equipment here is subjected to two very corrosive factors: the salt air from the sea
and the high humidity.''
While most modern hotels, tourist restaurants, cigar stores and Cuban government offices are air conditioned, it's pretty much illegal for ordinary Cubans to enjoy such a luxury.
``Like lobster, air conditioning is considered a frivolous luxury, something that according to the government isn't necessary,'' said Luis, a Havana Vedado taxi driver who moonlights as a tour guide.
``For people like me, the government considers air conditioning an unnecessary waste of valuable energy.''
Steamy Alamar
East of Havana, to the right of the Via Blanca, the main highway that runs to the beaches of Santa Maria del Mar and Guanabo, is the sprawling government-built housing complex called ``Alamar.''
A hodge-podge of mismatched concrete parts, Alamar is Cuba's version of an American ``housing project.'' It's a mass of humanity cramped into one big plot of concrete and dirt.
But what the residents who live here lack in wealth they certainly make up for in heart.
It's in the hundreds of cramped apartments in Alamar where the heat and humidity are most oppressive. Here two and three generations of Cubans live together in a single apartment and doors and windows are left open to catch any breeze.
``I'm trying to buy a air conditioner for my mother's apartment in Alamar, but it's difficult to secure the proper papers,'' said Celeste, an English-speaking tourist guide who works for Grupo Cubanacan, a company that arranges accommodations and transportation for foreign visitors to Cuba.
Celeste said she shares her mother's apartment in Alamar with her husband and sister. Her estranged father, who left her mother a decade ago, also still keeps a room there.
``It's difficult living in Alamar in the summer because everyone's apartment is so hot and humid,'' Celeste said. ``You sleep with no blankets, no clothes and all the doors and windows open. My only solace is that I can look at the sea from my window.''
Because she has access to U.S. dollars, Celeste said she can afford to buy an air conditioner, but so far those selling them haven't been able to produce the proper paperwork.
``You need the right paperwork to buy an air conditioner or your neighbors, those that watch for the government, could report you. I'd rather be hot and uncomfortable than in trouble,'' she said.
Beating the heat
So how do Cubans try to beat the heat?
The first option is to go to the beach, mostly out to the playas (beaches) of Santa Maria, El Megano, Boca Ciega and Guanabo. However, not everyone in Havana has the means to go the beach, mostly because of a lack of suitable transportation.
Ice cream is another diversion and if you're paying in Cuban pesos, expect to wait up to an hour in the long line that snakes around La Copella, the famous Havana ice cream eatery across from the Habana Libre Hotel.
During the afternoon, when the sea breeze rises off the Gulf of Mexico, you'll spot the residents of Havana strolling along the old seawall on the Malecon, the city's oceanfront promenade, or sitting on the bluffs that overlook the sea in back of Havana's famous old Hotel Nacional.
On the hottest and muggiest summer days, the majority of Habaneras do the same thing my neighbors did decades ago in the Cuban-American neighborhood where I was raised, in Elizabeth, New Jersey. They go to a nearby park.
The children play games together, the older men and women chat and watch their grandchildren growing. Young boys throw and bat baseballs, while their older brothers and sisters flirt. This is summer in Havana.
These summer images in the parks that dot Havana remind me of just how much my old neighborhood has changed and how the parks and ball fields of my youth have long since vanished.
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