First Impressions of Cuba: An Island Frozen In Time

Oh yes — I can already tell this trip will inspire more than a few car paintings. Havana has that effect on you. From the moment you arrive, the city pulls you in with a strange and beautiful mix of energy, nostalgia, and rhythm.

It was late when I landed — one of those hot, steamy Caribbean nights where the air feels thick enough to touch. The humidity wrapped around me like a welcome, heavy blanket as I stepped out of the airport. My ride was waiting — an old Moskovitch, its paint dulled by time, headlights glowing softly against the night.

As we rolled through the dark streets, I watched the city flicker to life: pastel-colored buildings half-lit by streetlamps, people talking on doorsteps, music drifting from open windows. It was quiet but alive — a heartbeat you could feel through the car seat.

Those first few moments, they stay with you. They’re the kind that sink deep, the kind you remember years later — the smell of the sea, the hum of the engine, the way the city seems to whisper its stories through every corner.

And then, of course — the cars.

Havana’s streets are a living museum. It’s as if time paused somewhere around 1959, and nobody told the cars to move on. Old American Chevrolets, Buicks, and Fords glide by like polished ghosts of another era, their chrome catching the sunlight. But what really surprised me were the old Russian cars — Moskovitches, Ladas, and Volgas — still running, still resilient, sharing the roads as if they belonged to the same family.

It’s a strange harmony — Soviet steel beside American chrome, each vehicle with its own story of survival. The sound of engines here is like music: a rhythm of endurance, creativity, and pride.

There’s a feeling in Havana that’s hard to describe. It’s not just about the cars or the colors — it’s the spirit of the place. The people, the laughter, the faded beauty that refuses to fade completely. Everything feels alive, imperfect, and yet deeply human.

I’ve traveled to many cities, but nowhere else feels quite like this. Havana is a place that gets under your skin — a place that makes you want to paint, write, and simply see more.

And honestly… I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many Ladas on the road in my life. 😂