Matanzas residents in Camagüey.
Ilustración de Más Cuba.
I lived for six days in Camagüey at the beginning of the 20th century, sleeping in an impeccable 1907 hotel with a legion of attentive staff, ready to serve you and to elevate even the smallest detail. Camagüey.
It’s surprising to be in Camagüey. It’s overwhelming to walk the same cobblestone streets that the Mayor once walked. The state of preservation of its heritage is astonishing, with its 17 hotels, its beautiful churches, and its narrow streets.
Plaza del Carmen, where the Church of Our Lady of Carmen stands, dating from 1825, the only church with two towers in the city.
Not a single trash can on any corner. Of course, Camagüey is very flat; I saw people collecting waste with a horse-drawn cart. Perhaps this could also be done in the flat areas of my city. But there’s also a culture (or a conscience?) of keeping the city clean. In six days in Camagüey, we only found papers outside a small candy and sweets shop.
Everything else, including the parks and its various squares, was clean, without a single piece of trash. We visited shops, bakeries, cafes, restaurants, ice cream parlors—everything you’d find when you leave your home province—and the service in every one was top-notch. They want and need to sell, and they know how to serve and attract customers well to achieve that goal.
There, I had the same feeling I experienced in 2014 in Pinar del Río and in 2018 in Cienfuegos, places where I spent several days, always for work. I was moved and even more hurt by Matanzas, the birthplace of the danzón, our national dance, of White, of Milanés, of Plácido, of Carilda, where—I’m not afraid to say it—the best children’s theater in Cuba is performed; the Athens… A drinker of Pon Pon water since I was a child, proud of the stoic Sauto Theater; of its French pharmacy; of the seas that surround the city; of its «sleepy» Bread; of its bridges, all centuries old; of the trains that cross it into the immensity; of what remains of its wooden architecture, Matanzas pains me. I lived for six days in Camagüey at the beginning of the 20th century, sleeping in a pristine 1907 hotel, with a legion of attentive staff, ready to serve you and to elevate even the smallest detail.
I must say that they suffer blackouts just like all Cubans: nine hours without power and three with it, PROGRAMMED. They suffer the same shortcomings as we do, but from early morning until late at night they take over the streets to bring the city to life. Camagüey is astonishing. Camagüey, the land of Ignacio Agramonte, the Bayardo; of Finlay; of Gertrudis Gómez de Avellaneda; of Nicolás Guillén, one of the three Cuban National Poets; and of Ana Betancourt, hosted delegates from the country attending the 36th National Festival of Cuban Radio for six days. Thank you to Camagüey! Thank you to Cuban Radio!
Written by Maritza Tejera.
