Lights of Solares in the Historic Center
Scouring Old Havana is like diving into an adventure of nonstop dazzling spell. You find yourself seduced by the lavishness of palaces, churches and monasteries, the narrowness of its streets with countless and varied architectural gems lined up on both sidewalks, houses that really meet the eye. Daily life here goes beyond the boldest attempt to stigmatize Old Havana. Foreign visitors interested in knowing how and where Cubans live ought to saunter around square-side mansions, the privileged cornered houses, the much humbler homes and one of the commonest living quarters of all, the so-called solares.
THE ORIGINS Solares, construed as concurrent symbols of tropical lifestyle, became a top choice for Cubans who sought a modest and cheap place to live in 19th century's Cuba. Either seen as an architectural warping or just a response to economic hardships, the point is solares stand out in the architectural assortment that marks the oldest part of town. Even though this is a common phenomenon, most experts agree there are two terms to explain their emergence, depending on the circumstances that made them spring up.
Hailing from Central Havana, common living quarters popped up in the second half of the 19th century during the housing development of the area between Belascoain and Infanta Streets. Once the main buildings were finished, the huge and spacious mansions were partitioned to guarantee at least one room for every low-income laborer who was doing the works. Little by little, those people built common bathrooms, kitchens and washing racks that were most of the time lodged in the inner patios or in the backyards.
Similar transformations occurred in Old Havana as the owners of old mansions moved out to their new fancy quarters being built in the city's expansion plan. People from different walks of life gathered here. Solares became the meeting grounds for those who worked in the docks or were arriving in Havana. A clustering of marketplaces and stores in the old part of town –overcrowded since the early 20th century- soon panned out to be a place slime and crime teeming with pollution, wrongdoing, drugs and prostitution.
While well-to-do families were permanently moving to their former getaways in the Cerro and Vedado areas, the new owners used to give those common living quarters a more lucrative usage. They split up the mansions in as many rooms as they could to lodge as many families as possible.
DAILY FINDINGS Singled out by the Carpentierian epithet of “The City of Columns,” Havana's solares show off an abundance of columns and pillars. These elegant and portentous elements –garnished with huge arches- are commonplace in those mansions of yesteryear that, regardless of being rundown and dilapidated, still flash memories of an architecture that never skimped on frills and ornaments. Even though more than half of all houses in the Historic Center are common living quarters and solares, an enormous array of details and signs of former times highlights the beauty of these old-timed nooks and crannies.
Some of these solares still boast immense doors that evoke the hardworking effort of master carpenters. The huge doors are outfitted with brass knockers that once underscored the facades of Havana's finest buildings.
Many inner patios –the place where most domestic chores are performed- feature gorgeous wrought-iron gates and graters done by the island nation's best blacksmiths, some of them guarding balconies, doors and windows. Giving free rein to all the voluptuousness and sensuality that Cubans ooze out, lamp poles and lanterns still stand tall in the exteriors. But, perhaps the most striking element about this architectural incursion, amid aging and derelict buildings, is the presence of Cuban church windows.
Some of these window panes remain nearly unscratched and defying to the passage of time. Despite their matchless beauty, these church windows are chaotically simple but useful enough to light up houses inside with a multitude of hues and shades. With the ability to take the pulse of any day, these motley pieces of glass unleash magic reflections around the ramshackle solares.
The list of daily findings could go on and on almost endlessly. They are linked to the barrio neighbors and their load of rites and traditions. Recent polls show these people are determined to keep on living in Old Havana, a place they cherish for its historical, architectural and cultural values.
THE PEOPLE OF THE SOLARES As striking as solares might be, their tenants are equally amazing. Makeshift cloth lines and hangers serve to dry the laundry these people sprinkled with sweat the day before. In the same breath, their traditions, culture, religion and customs are as astounding as their own common living quarters.
For these literally next-door neighbors housed in narrow and clustered rooms, the ties the bind them together are stronger than just the mere concept of barrio and city. Shared bathrooms and kitchens make solares dwellers come together in key moments of any day. The nature of these poorly vented and tapered rooms makes residents spend most of the day out in the streets, in the patios or in the backyards.
Take a peek into a solar and the show will be unmistakably the same: a big Cuban-style bash. This is the moment when the clanking and thumping of an array of percussion instruments –some well known and others just drummed up for the occasion- blare out into the streets and make tenants shake a leg. Marked by a strong influence of African-Cuban religious rites, these celebrations combine rituals, music and popular resourcefulness.
These cloisters of human souls have given rise to some of the most genuine Cuban rhythms. A case in point is rumba, a beat that saw the light of day in the late 19th century. Following a slower intro, the well-know guaguanco starts spinning a yarn about daily-life happenings. With the fluent improvisation and natural musicality that make Cubans one-and-only beings on the face on the earth, a guaguanco always deals with broken hearts, brawls and everyday conflicts, and is always accompanied by the hip-swaying sound of the drums. Others prefer rumba or Columbia, devised to let both men and women give free rein to body movement and language.
A look back in history reveals the existence of several solares tenants who eventually became the main characters of several best-known tunes. One of the women whose sensual gait and dancing movement were the talk of the town some decades ago was Maria la O. A famous rumba dance was named after her.
Our National Poet, the late Nicolas Guillen, devoted many of his rich musical verses and stanzas to the poor and, above all, to the Cuban Negro trapped in the ambience of the solares. Some of his poetic stories refer to several jargon and cant terms of the times, like bronca (brawl) and jaladera (pushing and shoving). A case in point is his well-known poem entitled Papa Montero's Wake, in which he lampooned the death of an imaginary character closely linked to the realm of rumba. “They now got ya / They really waxed ya now, Papa Montero / In the solar they waited for you / But you came back in a pine box / It's all over, Baldomero / Beat it, damn rumbero.”
Back in today's Havana, many evocations about daily life have endured and lived out the passage of time. The beat of the drums has never stopped and big bashes continue gathering neighbors in the inner patios and backyards. And many of them still belt out the story of the famous female rumba dancer named Maria la O. Vested with lots of other attributes, Maria la O is the incarnation of well-shaped Cuban women with a flair for dancing and singing. Parodies, a sip of rum and dominoes tables are scenes that come to pass time and again in each and every solar.
Such occurrences, as genuine expressions of our own quirkiness, are elements ingrained deep in the heart and soul of all Cubans. That's how Don Fernando Ortiz described this blend of traditions, religious rituals of African origin and other recurrent moments anointed in the pantheon of the Orishas, the deities of African-Cuban religion. Celebrations, observances and rites likened to the Orishas are sometimes the most venerated moments in the solares, especially when one of their neighbors is being initiated in the religious practice. Some of the common living quarters are dedicated to spiritual consultations, to speaking with the dead and praying for them to help mortals work out their earthly tribulations. Snail shells and decks of cards presage the future and clear out the past of those who come asking for help.
That magical reality is a source of inspiration for many artists of all stripes who have adorned Cuba's musical spectrum with countless references to this particular scenario. Almost turned into a second national anthem, a song by Cuban crooner Gerardo Alfonso slithers its way into every nook and cranny of Old Havana, speaks to its residents, and shadows the ordinary scene of white bed sheets hanging from balcony-to-balcony cloth lines. In the meantime, new breeds of Cuban musicians capture the marginality of Havana's solares and turn it into choreographic encores of pop, rap and hip-hop music.
The images that solares give away have kept generations of shutterbugs from the turf and elsewhere spellbound and mesmerized. More recently, Havana's Eighth Arts Biennial invaded the well-known California Solar in Central Havana (Crespo Avenue on the corners of San Lazaro and Colon streets). There, such top artists as Kcho, Diago and Mendive brought their art to the community. In this bid for life, artistic works were splayed in an array of makeshift murals and exhibits for all those residents to enjoy and feast eyes on. Those neighbors, by the way, were key players in every artistic demonstration.
Other city events have also walked into the solares, either to turn those common living quarters into venues of cultural events or just to feed on their singularity for a number of artistic manifestations. Far from conventional stages, Old Havana invites artists to paint its streets and plazas, let alone propose a series of dancing events that could definitely find no better scenario than the old part of the nation's capital. Anticipated and followed by everybody, the arts have found in solares the perfect setting for any performance. Its architectural values make any presentation a walk in the sun. Nonetheless, the participation of families in this artistic going is what actually puts a legitimate stamp on the traditions and everyday life of this ancient cluster.
There's no better chronicle, though, than living Havana at its best. In order to escape the tropical lifestyle and recurrent images, nothing compares to a tour around its older-than-the-hills sightseeing spots. The key to so much pleasure could be found in 113 Teniente Rey, 406 Empedrado, 368 Aguiar or 467 Cuba streets. All those mailing addresses are linked to solares. However, I suggest you to take on an adventure in which you'll find out about spaces, stories, characters and an endlessly magical reality.
AIRS OF RESTORATION Inherited by the 1959 Revolution in extremely serious conditions, with people piled up on one another, the architectural distortion of Old Havana was getting shaggier with each passing year, a process aggravated by scores of families that tried to find in solares a place to call their home. Makeshift second-tier floors (called locally barbacoas), in-between restrooms, overpopulation, domestic migrations and other problems were hitting solares hard when the restoration of Old Havana kicked off some years ago.
The effort to rescue old buildings and houses from the relentless claws of time teed off with an all-out refurbishment of main squares, coincidentally where most of those valuable buildings were located. Many of the mansions housing the solares, all of them tricked out with major architectural and historical values, got a new lease on life. Other edifices were turned into tourist attractions in so comprehensive a way that they have eventually helped bankroll subsequent restoration works.
Beyond salvaging those stones that tell divine stories from the past, and besides giving beautiful buildings and constructions their old splendorous grandeur, the Office of the City's Historian insists in providing both locals and visitors with the image of a heart-throbbing city. The fact of the matter is that the true value of any heritage lies in the people who live in those huge colonial houses and solares, the same people that pitch a hand in keeping their common living quarters up and running. Finding solutions to housing problems is one of the main objectives behind this effort that includes a series of reforms and refurbishment plans for entire mansions and buildings. The social program is intense and far-reaching, and it targets the most sensitive sectors.
With abundance of solares and lots of other ruinous buildings, the San Isidro Neighborhood is, for instance, trying to come up with a one-of-a-kind restoration project. Without moving beyond the boundaries of the barrio, neighbors are now refurbishing their own houses with funds and construction materials granted by the state. Paying special heed to traditions and creeds, the plan contemplates the protection of those places that neighbors have traditionally used for religious ceremonies and rites. Nonbelievers, on the other hand, are persuaded about the need to preserve those historical and cultural values.
The Old Plaza's fountain is witnessing the transformation of rundown buildings in its surroundings. In keeping with all cultural and commercial functions, each and every house gets a facelift. Characterized by their close ties with the area, residents of Old Havana are beginning to see these efforts pay off for the sake of their formerly destroyed solares. Their houses now look like brand new and are adequately fitted for a coherent number of tenants. Other neighbors, whose residences are part of the restoration program, are lodged in temporary living quarters not far from the square. Once the refurbishment process is complete, they return to their homes to enjoy the comfort of the rebuilt plaza.
Under the conspicuous name of Belgian City, the Witches Project is currently underway thanks to the cooperation of that European nation and in line with building strategies for the area that comprises a grand total of 36 buildings. Residents of an old-timed mansion known as the House of the Green Cross are back in their rooms. The first floor, however, now treasures the Museum of Chocolate.
While the surroundings of Havana's main plazas and squares –plus other buildings next to the Office of the City's Historian- are blessed by this restoration endeavor, some neighbors from outside this beltway have begun to repair their own residences, fixing floors, roofs and ceilings. It seems as if the Orishas are calling worshipers to take on this restoration effort and make it all theirs. For its part, the social and communitarian management continues the transformation of a city that's holding on tight to its spirituality. This is an inspiring city that makes artists and poets embrace its residents in the struggle against time, neglect and forgetfulness.
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