Havana rentals: A moveable famine

HAVANA – A moderately furnished apartment, within the limits of what we call the “good areas” of this city —which are no more than the municipalities close to the center of the city– is available starting at 60 CUC (Cuban convertible dollar) per month. That’s if you’re very lucky. And that’s talking about an apartment in the boonies with three rooms in a peripheral municipality like Marianao.

And sure, Marianao has serviceable public transportation. In other words, it’s not like it’s the end of the world. Anyway, one learns to find the advantages of where one lives. Surely most everyone would rather live in the perfectly located Vedado. Instead I find myself moving one day (for the ninth time in four years), with the little I possess, all the way to 39th and 106th Street. A move done in two trips: the car used for the move was a little small this time, and they were doing me a favor.

Under any circumstance, moving is stressful. In some way you take account of your belongings, which have grown with each move because you bought new pots and pans, 15 books that you have not had the time to read, a lamp for when you have the time to read the books, bags, tennis shoes… or the washing machine your mother sent you so you don’t have to wash by hand on weekends any more. You then must fit everything into the boxes and suitcases that were loaned to you by friends or that you picked up by the exit of the shopping center. 

All sorts of boxes that once were cases of rum or held bottles of detergents, or even household appliances. Boxes that need reinforcing with string and tape. Then wrap everything fragile in newspaper (as if by magic this helps it from breaking); carefully arrange glasses, plates, ornaments… I wonder why one pays to arrange a space one only rents… Records, my makeup, the spices for cooking, t-shirts, medicines, etc. Then one labels the boxes: fragile, for the bedroom, kitchen, books; and always thinking: everything ain’t gonna fit. Then I light a cigarette and analyze: If I put this here or that there… I put out my cigarette, confirm that the car will be here at 10, and convince myself that all will be fine. And that maybe, just maybe, this will be my last move.

In this city it never is.

Rentals in Havana are asking exorbitant prices. In Revolico (a Cuban website where you can find almost anything), when a rental is advertised for less than 100 CUC, it does not last even an hour before someone calls and takes it. That hour, by the way, is more like minutes. On Tuesday, April 2, for example, my search reveals that prices for a monthly rental range between 80 and 600 CUC, 16 times the average salary in this city.

The country’s housing deficit is estimated to be at 929,695 properties. In other words, we’d have to build 527,575 new buildings and rehabilitate 402,120 others to catch up. Havana province, being the biggest, is the most in need, followed by Holguín and Santiago de Cuba. These facts create yet another problem: if there are not enough homes for existing families, how can anyone expect to “move out,” or begin a new relationship, or even seek opportunities in your profession in the capital?

Most every young person who rents in Havana does so in apartments whose owners don’t have a license to rent. In other words, there is no legal documentation that protects the renter. Which means that at any moment an owner can tell you that you have a few days to get out. You then have to re-start the whole process –boxes and all– of moving. A difficult process made even harder by lack of the most important resource needed: money. 

How much does it cost to move in Havana? I am not exactly sure, but it’s probably more expensive than even a few month’s rent. In Revolico, for example, you may find several “moving companies with more than 20 years of experience” with ads that mention that the move includes a “specialized brigade” of movers to assist you. That’s when you call and negotiate: I have no heavy furniture; yes there’s a bed, but no refrigerator; some boxes with books, no tables or chairs. I need to go from Marianao to Central Havana, on Saturday, and no I don’t need your “brigade,” my friends will help me. Transportation is the hardest thing to get, of course, after you’ve found the new place to rent.

In September 2013, I moved temporarily to an apartment on Rabí Street, between Santa Emilia and Zapote in Havana’s Diez de Octubre neighborhood, with two friends. It was three of us in a one-room apartment. That afternoon I had a suitcase and backpack. I arrived on a bus, and stayed for two months. That June I had just graduated with a degree in journalism. Since that date I have moved 11 times. And no, I have not figured out how much each move has cost me. I think I’m better off not knowing… What I do know, though, are the neighborhoods of Playa, Cerro, Santos Suarez, Vedado and Nuevo Vedado, Centro Habana, and Marianao.  

Havana, sometimes, can be a hostile city. Services, although not necessarily more professional, are increasingly more expensive. Transportation sucks. For years now I have not been able to move to new rentals using public transportation. Over time I have bought furniture and items necessary in each of my new rental properties —all that have lasted me at least six months. I have gone from taking my things in one of the old antique cars known as almendrones and that circulate in Havana, to renting a small truck where my friends jump on to help. They are my own brigade of specialists.

The act of moving is also, in a sort of way, a kind of inventory. It is the items you leave behind because they’re no longer essential; of the times that made you laugh and cry within those four walls. Of the love made and unmade over the bathroom tiles; of telling someone that “here there’s always something to eat” or “the electricity’s been paid”; or asking the taxi driver to take you home… And most of all, in spite of all the help, it is an individual act where a person adjusts one’s life to his or her new space. No matter how short-lived the stay may be.