Rum Running in Havana

¡Hola desde La Habana! Your favorite spiny wanderer has arrived in Cuba, land of vintage cars, incredible music, and rum that flows like water. Actually, sometimes it flows instead of water—rum is more reliable here than the plumbing. I've spent a glorious week exploring Havana's rum culture, from world-famous distilleries to neighborhood bars where the mojitos cost less than a dollar and taste like liquid sunshine. My spines are tingling with Caribbean energy, and I may never want to leave.

My first stop was the iconic rum museum in Old Havana, housed in an 18th-century colonial building. Here I learned that Cuban rum gets its distinctive smoothness from the island's unique sugarcane and the aging process in white oak barrels. The tour guide, a distinguished gentleman named Fernando who wore an impeccable guayabera shirt, explained the difference between light, gold, and aged rums with the passion of a poet discussing sonnets. When I told him I was a cactus, he simply said, "In Cuba, everyone is welcome to drink rum." I appreciated the inclusive attitude.

The real adventure was bar-hopping through Old Havana, following in the footsteps of literary legends. I had a daiquiri at the famous establishment where Hemingway reportedly drank double frozen daiquiris with no sugar. The bartender made mine the traditional way—rum, lime juice, sugar, crushed ice, shaken until the metal tin frosted over. It was bracingly cold and perfectly balanced, nothing like the syrupy slushy drinks I'd had before. I understood why Papa loved this place. I may have had three. Research purposes only.

But the mojito bars are where Havana truly shines. Every bar has their own recipe, their own technique, their own pride. Some muddle the mint gently; others crush it aggressively. Some use white rum; others sneak in a splash of aged. The constants are fresh sugarcane juice (not simple syrup), locally grown mint that's more aromatic than anything I've smelled, and a heavy hand with the rum. I conducted a highly scientific comparison across seven different bars in one evening. The winner? A tiny spot in Centro Habana with plastic chairs and a bartender who'd been making mojitos for forty years. Her secret? "Love," she said. "And a lot of rum."

The highlight was visiting a small artisanal distillery outside Havana where they still use traditional methods. The master distiller let me taste rum straight from the barrel—uncut, unfiltered, intensely flavorful. It burned going down but left this incredible warmth that spread through my entire cactus body. He explained that the best rum is like good conversation: it starts strong, becomes smooth in the middle, and leaves you with a warm feeling at the end. Cuban wisdom delivered via fermented sugarcane. I wrote it down.

If you're planning a trip to Havana, embrace the rum culture fully. Start your education at the museum, then hit the legendary bars for context, but don't stop there. Find the neighborhood spots where locals gather, where the rum is poured generously and the conversation is better than any tourist attraction. And please, learn to drink your daiquiri properly—no frozen nonsense, no strawberry variations, just the classic recipe that's been perfecting since the early 1900s. Your taste buds (and Hemingway's ghost) will thank you. ¡Salud, Cuba! 🌵🥃🇨🇺