Who would think that the City of Havana, Cuba, would remind me of Narragansett? Of all things, it was the Malecón — a sweeping, 5-mile esplanade and seawall that curves along the edge of the city, where ocean and culture meet. It is Havana’s front porch, where families gather, friends linger, musicians play, fishermen cast, and lovers walk hand in hand beneath the salt air.
Back home, Narragansett has its own seawall — not nearly as long, but just as cherished. Ours was built to stand guard against the Atlantic’s fury and became the heartbeat of the town, where generations have walked, watched the waves, and shared sunsets. The Malecón echoed that feeling for me, the only place in Cuba that stirred a sense of home.
But beyond that seawall, Cuba was something else entirely. What stayed with Trish and me was not the concrete or the sea spray, but the people. Their warmth, ingenuity, and spirit shone through every encounter, even against the backdrop of hardship. The Cuban people live with a resilience and joy that humbles and inspires.
And so while the Malecón reminded me of Narragansett, everything else reminded me why travel matters — to connect, to learn, to admire. We returned home deeply grateful: grateful for the beauty of Cuba and its people, and grateful, too, for our own home by the Atlantic, in Narragansett and in the USA.
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