Yet, food rations limit residents to about six eggs per month. And Cubans with only pesos to spend stand in hour-long lines to get their famed Coppelia ice cream. There are no guns on the street and no fear of street crime even in the middle of the night. Cubans live in tumbledown houses with spare walls, tiny bathrooms and typically one dim light bulb per room. At night, the city turns silent and dark without streetlights.
Pedestrians hug the buildings or risk getting hit by passing cars.
Eating meat is a rare treat for average residents, some of whom go weeks without. When items like cooking oil, rice or fish are delivered to government-run stores, people must rush to get in line before supplies run out. In such conditions, the pressure to strip Havana's Malecon with hotel after hotel is great. If Coyula had his way, many of Havana's buildings would be turned into state stores or cooperatives, at least on the bottom floor. It's part of his goal of rebuilding the city and benefiting the population with a socialistic approach that would ease disparities rather than exacerbate them.