Zes maanden op Cuba—Havana De Aarde en haar Volken, 1908

The narrator steps off the American steamer Mexico onto a bright December morning, greeted by the warm Caribbean sun and the sweeping blue of the sky. Havana stretches out from a protective bay, its pastel‑yellow buildings arranged like a giant chessboard, while narrow streets pulse with horse‑drawn wagons, rickety buses and crowds jostling for a sliver of pavement. The chaotic traffic and the mingling of Spanish, French, English and American coins create a dizzying first impression of a city caught between rapid growth and limited infrastructure.

After a frantic search the traveler secures a modest ground‑floor flat, its light‑painted façade and simple two‑window front barely hiding a shaded interior courtyard. Inside, a vaulted zaguan opens onto the comedor with a sturdy table, a bamboo‑furnished sala with a piano, and a bedroom equipped with a large wardrobe and a spring‑mattressed bed. The quiet of the patio offers a brief respite from the clamor outside, while the narrator begins to note the eclectic blend of colonial architecture and the everyday struggles of a city whose population surges faster than its new houses.