Published - National Geographic Traveller

The Story Behind the Photo / A two page spread of Havana for "The Big Picture"

Jun 21, 2024

When the photo editor at National Geographic Traveller reached out again to see about using one of my photos for their Big Picture segment, I was totally delighted (and somewhat gobsmacked, again). But overjoyed, nonetheless. As I’ve said before, it’s a wonderful feeling having your work in print and seeing it out in the world for so many more people to see. It’s incredible to have peers congratulate you and tell you they admire your accomplishment. And it’s genuinely touching having friends pick up extra copies and ship them to you along with books for your daughter, to have your parents march around and show it off to everyone at the BBQ, and to simply feel validated in what you do.

So, here’s the photo, and the story behind it…

At the Gran Teatro de la Habana in Havana, Cuba

My photo as a two-page spread for the Big Picture segment, in the June 2024 issue of *National Geographic Traveller* magazine

Undoubtably, one of the most beautiful old buildings in Havana is the Gran Teatro de la Habana, with its undulating curves and ornate details carved into a white stone facade. Sitting beneath, lined up for the tourists sat rows of classic cars, beckoning like candy. A real hallmark of Havana, the Cadillacs and T-Birds serve as a visual clue to the era of the revolution, in which everything in the country changed so quickly. The contrast between the brightly colored cars, so evocative of the 1950s, and the opulent, neo-baroque facade behind, really caught my attention. I lined up my shot to accentuate the pastiche of curves, the pattern they created, and the repetition of form, from two vastly different eras. Were the car designers of the 1950s inspired by baroque buildings? Hard to say, but juxtaposed like this, I began to see a pattern that I liked. A few frames and I was done. I didn’t walk around and get several angles or go across the street for another view. After all, it was very hot.

It never occurred to me at the time that any photo from this trip would end up being published. But whenever I glance back through all of my Cuba photos, I’m reminded of so much—life, vibrancy, heat, dynamism, contrast, music, and beauty. Cuba is a place effused with soul. It would be hard to argue otherwise. We traveled to Havana with family. My cousin married a Cuban man, and so they go often. I had always wanted to visit, and the opportunity came up, so we jumped at it. As someone with an American passport only, there’s a bit of jumping through hoops to get there. But all in all, it’s not too bad. Part of what colored the trip uniquely for us was understanding this place—with so much mystique around it—through my own eyes, and the perspective of my Cuban relatives. We wore dual hats, in a way, the tourist and the local. We saw up close how one Cuban family lived there, staying in their home, and if we had questions about the culture or the politics, we could ask. We had a bit of an insider’s track. Yet, we were indisputably tourists from a very different place.

We went in the low season, which is the height of the summer. To be honest, the weather itself was one of the most indelible memories of the whole trip to this day. I remember feeling hotter and sweatier in moments, than I had in my entire life. I remember feeling nervous about the not uncommon power outages, that could occur at any time without warning, and last for several hours—every time I took an elevator. There are lots of elevators in Cuba, it’s built up high. Of course I remember the pastel buildings and colonial architecture everywhere, and all the classic American 1950s cars. I also remember putting my cell phone down once we arrived and not really using it at all. Really. There was no service of any kind. No way to post or share photos. There was essentially no internet. The little we had access to was in the home of my cousin’s mother where we stayed. It was so limited (only a few hours per day and with lots of codes to enter and barriers to access) we never dared ask. I remember the incredible music at El Floradita, the 200 year old bar made famous by inventing the Daiquiri, and a man named Hemingway who enjoyed them. The drinks were very good. I remember buying beautiful freshwater pearls at a street market for less than a cappuccino in Rome. I remember taking a classic cherry red Cadillac on a tour around town and having a ball, but then subsequently getting very sick after inhaling too many fumes of the city. I remember receiving urgent medical care in a communist country—in the middle of nowhere—with a healthcare system that is both universal and considered one of the best in the world. I remember gorgeous tiled courtyards festooned with lush palms and hanging plants of all exotic varieties. I remember avocados the size of mini footballs and mangos even larger. We ate fresh fruit for breakfast every day. We sat on the balcony late in the evening to cool down from the day—a tapestry of colored lights in the lively, storied city below, leading all the way to the Atlantic—sipping rum, cigar smoke wafting against the dark sky, telling stories, and sharing laughs.