Magical melodies and Mojitos.

If there was one place I have visited so far where music was all pervasive, then it has to be Cuba.  From shop windows and street corners, to clubs, restaurants and bars, music can be heard everywhere.

Spending two weeks in Cuba last year was a treat for my musical education and that’s on top of my life being additionally enriched by the history, culture and cocktails I experienced whilst I was there.  Music is the life blood and heartbeat of this intoxicating nation.

I will never forget seeing Buena Vista Social Club at the Hotel Nacional.  The particular incarnation I saw was The Compay Segundo Group and from that first latin soaked guitar strum, to the last bongo hit, I was held captivated.  The concert was held in a hall lined with artwork of Fidel Castro and Che Guevara and although I knew it was all tailored for a tourist audience, it didn’t diminish my enjoyment one iota.  I think my enjoyment was only bolstered by a Japanese tour group who sat on the table next to me, who had no inhibitions whatsoever and jumped up and danced badly, but with real delight, to every number.  It made a special evening even better and all the more memorable.

Compay Segundo Group

An example of the Fidel and Che artwork.

But, my real musical memory of Cuba was something a lot more low key and magical.  My wife and I would go out from our hotel in the evenings for our meal and often return to sit on the terrace for cocktails and to watch the world go by.  There is nothing more spellbinding than sitting on plush sofas, in a courtyard with Moroccan inspired architecture, drinking cold mojitos with large crystals of sugar to offset the bite of rum and listening to live music drift across to you on the warm night air.  The breeze would rustle through the palms, birds would tweet and chirrup despite the darkness and the air hung with the murmur of talk and the pungent, evocative aroma of cigar smoke.  The infectious rhythms of ‘Chan Chan’ being played, or the plaintive notes of a love ballad only served as the final, perfect backdrop to this memory.

The courtyard where we drunk our cocktails and soaked up the music.

Our favourite band serenading us on our last day.

Whenever I hear Cuban music now I am transported back to those evenings and although it may be snowing outside or pouring with rain, my body remembers the heat and contentment of those nights.  I wonder if I will go back to experience it again, although maybe it is an experience best left as a memory to pull out, go over and savour whenever I need that warm little pick-me-up on a cold night.

Sunglasses and a Mojito, two essentials for Cuba.