Passing out through the great iron gates, we signalled for a cochero, when half a dozen galloped up gesticulating and vociferating eagerly. We choose the cleanest-looking cocha of the lot, a curious ancient vehicle, which seemed to be a cross between the German fiacre and a Parisian voiture. Into this three of us climbed, when we set off on a gallop through narrow streets up into the city, halting at last before the Spanish-kept Hotel Pasaje. It is big and airy, and I have a room at the top where I can catch any breeze which may be blowing. The floor of my chamber is tiled; it is fitted with an iron bedstead with wire mattress, and neat American cottage furniture. An electric incandescent lamp dangles from the ceiling, and there are two large sashless windows with slatted Venetian curtains which may be let down to shut out wind and light. My first view of Habana was from one of these windows. I looked out over a city of flat roofs, where much domestic labor was carried on, and then beyond, across the palm-ornamented plaza and along the beautiful Prado to the sea.
My first commercial transaction was the purchase of really fine cigars at a most reasonable figure; and then a packet of postal cards illustrated with views of Cuba. Down in the corner of each card was the legend, “Made in Detroit.” When I called the attention of the Spanish salesman to this fact, he declared “there is no such place as Detroit,” and “undoubtedly the words are the name of the Spanish artist who designed the cards!”
Leaving the hotel, I sauntered toward the Plaza Grande, an open square of several acres, traversed by gravel walks, and shaded by many Royal and other graceful palms; and then crossing it I came to the Prado. “Muy bonita esta el Prado,” (very lovely is the Prado), is the common phrase of every Habanista; and rightfully are the Habanese proud of their splendid parklike boulevard.
CALLE OBISPO—HAVANA
Habana is built upon a low, broad-topped hill, which descends gently to the water side. On the flattened crest of this hill is the Plaza Grande, and from the Plaza down to the sea, a mile or two in length, stretches the Prado;—a wide boulevard on either side of a broad green strip of park, where a walk-way passes beneath a double row of ancient and umbrageous trees, and comfortable seats are placed at intervals.
It is on the Prado that the fashion and beauty of Habana drives and promenades and lingers to see and be seen of all the world. Along its borders, on either hand, are built many of the noblest mansions of her merchant and planter magnates. To have a residence upon the Prado is to command respect.
The Spaniard and Cuban cared little for his streets, but he devoted himself with lavish attention to beautifying the interior of his home. Hence, in the Cuban as in the Mexican cities, you often pass along between bare uninteresting walls, while the costliest marbles, the richest fabrics, the rarest paintings within, quite hidden from all curious eyes, may be collected.
Later in the day I wandered through the shopping districts along the famous Calles Obispo and O’Rielly, streets so narrow that during the heat of the day they are wholly overspread with awnings while wheel traffic must go down O’Rielly and up Obispo. Here are gathered in plain unpretentious buildings many sumptuous shops. The Cuban has not yet learned the art of window display; he is not up even to the Mexican in that. But once you are within and know what to ask for, beautiful fabrics and expensive goods are shown you without stint. Among other shops, the hat store holds an important place in Cuban as well as Mexican life. In Mexico, the sombrero, costly or cheap, marks the social status of the wearer and, just so, here in Cuba the quality of your panama determines the amount of consideration which you receive. I entered the Hotel Pasaje wearing a modern American felt hat, and when I bloomed out in a really good panama, the clerks and servants treated me with markedly increased respect. In the same way, when you enter a shop, the clerk sizes up your hat and treats you accordingly.