Holguín Vibes: A Coffee-Fueled Detour Through Cuba's Hidden Corner
holguín-it's not the first name that pops up when you think cuba, but that's exactly why it hooked me. i landed here after a night bus from santiago, half-dead, clutching a lukewarm café cubano that tasted like liquid courage. the air was thick, almost syrupy, and the numbers floating in my weather app (25.72°c, feels like 25.65°c, humidity at 50%) didn't do justice to the sticky warmth wrapping around my skin like a second shirt.
i just checked and it's warm and breezy there right now, hope you like that kind of thing.
my first stop was parque calixto garcía, where old men played dominoes under royal palms and kids chased each other around the central statue. someone told me that the best coffee in town isn't in any guidebook-it's at a hole-in-the-wall called café el museo, right next to the natural history museum. i almost walked past it, but the smell of roasting beans yanked me inside. three cups later, i was vibrating.
if you get bored, santiago de cuba and bayamo are just a short drive away, but honestly? holguín doesn't need a backup plan. the real magic is in the unplanned moments: stumbling into a street vendor selling fresh guarapo, getting invited to a backyard rumba by a guy named carlos who swore his tío played with buena vista social club, or finding a mural of che that looked like it was painted yesterday (it probably was).
i heard that the nightlife here is wilder than the guidebooks let on-small salsa clubs tucked behind unmarked doors, where locals dance until dawn and tourists are welcomed like long-lost cousins. *la terraza on calle maceo was one of those places; no sign, just a red door and a bouncer who grinned when i mumbled "bailar?"
pro tip: bring cash. lots of it. and not just for mojitos-some of the best meals are in private homes listed on airbnb experiences* or local facebook groups. i ate the best arroz con pollo of my life in someone's living room, served by a grandmother who didn't speak a word of english but communicated entirely through eyebrow raises and generous portions.
so yeah, holguín. it's messy, it's loud, it's a little chaotic-but that's the point. you don't come here for polished resorts. you come for the realness, the rhythm, the unexpected connections. and maybe, if you're lucky, a coffee that keeps you awake long enough to see the sunrise over the sierra del cristi.
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