From Nuevo Vedado to Carlos III, a journey through blackouts, ruined buildings, and people searching for a connection or something to eat.

14ymedio, Yoani Sánchez, Havana, October 21, 2026 / Just having left my house, on the outskirts of the Ministry of Agriculture, I came across a group of people sitting on the curb, as if waiting for a bus that never comes. But no one was looking toward nearby Rancho Boyeros Avenue for a bus. They all had their heads bent over a cell phone screen. Some were typing rapidly, others were holding the device close to their face, and a woman was straining to hear a voice message over the noise of the traffic.
The proximity of a telecommunications tower has transformed this stretch of sidewalk into an improvised internet café. People arrive from several blocks around, seeking something that is becoming as scarce as electricity: an internet connection. In much of Nuevo Vedado, mobile data has become an intermittent luxury. The signal appears, disappears, and forces people to pursue it through the streets.
This Wednesday morning the sky is overcast and a cool breeze relieves the wait. Other days, those who sit in front of the enormous building end up with sunburnt skin, as if they’d spent hours at the beach. Except they haven’t seen the sea or enjoyed a vacation. They’ve remained in the open air trying to send an email, talk to a relative who’s emigrated, or download a document.
“Things are so bad that, between the sacks of cement and the bricks I move, I also have to work as a taxi driver.”
I continue toward Ayestarán. Recent rains have converted the sidewalks into a series of puddles and mud. One wrong step could leave my shoe sinking in a mixture of mud and dirty water. I decide to hop on an electric tricycle. The driver is an older man with weathered arms and an easygoing manner. He explains that he doesn’t usually pick up passengers. His business consists of transporting goods from a few private hardware stores to customers’ homes. But these aren’t times for specialization. continue reading
“Things are so bad that, between the sacks of cement and the bricks I move, I also have to act as a taxi driver,” he tells me while trying to dodge a van whose driver seems convinced that the size of his vehicle gives him priority on the road.
At the intersection of Ayestarán and 20 de Mayo, the traffic light is out. It’s not the first one we’ve found not working. The power outage extends across large areas of Havana, and intersections have become places where each driver calculates for themselves when to proceed, stop, or simply rely on luck.
“Looks like they’re going to take Díaz-Canel for a walk,” my driver quips as he looks towards the nearby tower of the Plaza of the Revolution
Here, however, a policewoman tries to bring order to the cars, motorcycles, and tricycles. Two officers, in their impecable uniforms, join the operation.
“Looks like they’re going to take Díaz-Canel for a stroll,” my driver quips, glancing at the nearby tower in the Plaza of the Revolution. “Now they’re taking him to a place where everything looks spic and span,” he adds sarcastically.
A little further on, the landscape belies any pretense of a polished city. In the dilapidated doorway of a building that lost part of its roof years ago, a couple has set up their makeshift home. Bags, wood, and plastic sheeting define a dwelling without doors or walls. Trees sprout from the balconies and eaves, seemingly determined to finish the demolition. No one dares to pass beneath that structure for fear of collapse, but they live there.
We turn right onto Carlos III Avenue. In front of the commercial center, a woman is selling trinkets on a blanket spread out on the sidewalk. The tricycle stops, and the driver takes the opportunity to wipe his sweat. “That’s in dollars. I haven’t lost anything there because I don’t have any,” he says, pointing at the establishment.
I glance toward the gates of the Plaza. A old woman hunched over raises her hand every time someone approaches and asks for “something to eat.” Her voice barely manages to cut through the noise of the engines and the bustle of the street. Havana has become a city where we all desperately chase after something: an internet signal, a roof, even if it threatens to collapse, a few dollars, or simply something as basic as being able to eat every day.
Read more Havana Chronicles here
______________________
COLLABORATE WITH OUR WORK: The 14ymedio team is committed to practicing serious journalism that reflects Cuba’s reality in all its depth. Thank you for joining us on this long journey. We invite you to continue supporting us by becoming a member of 14ymedio now. Together we can continue transforming journalism in Cuba.









A link to the interview video subtitled in English.. . ENJOY!




