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Whoever had the brainwave to mix communism with rum, sun and salsa must have been secretly engaging in a cultural experiment more radical than the best of reality TV.

At Casa de La Musica in Miramar, a beautiful Spanish colonial suburb of Havana, the upbeat music of local band Charanga Habanera is reverberating from every corner of the room. The afternoon salsa session is in full swing and sexy Cuban women clad in brightly coloured lycra strut their stuff to the delight of the foreign male contingent. Sizing up the talent, most of the men are two to three decades older than the girls, but as the afternoon progresses and the atmosphere gets increasingly steamy, this doesn’t seem to be an issue for anyone.

Miramar is where the foreign diplomats and ex-pat business people live, but nearby the old mansions are divided into small units crumbling around the ears of local inhabitants. Few structures have been built in Cuba since ‘the triumph of the revolution’ in 1959, other than the flagship soviet-like structures typified by the skyscraper adorned with a mammoth Che Guevara on the Plaza de la Revolucion.

But in Old Havana, where the tourists flock, investment in restoration over the last five years has left it gleaming. The vibrant blues and greens of patios and doorways are a contrast to the wedding cake-white of the immaculate cathedral. Up around Parque Central, the hub of life in Centro Havana, locals pile into 1950s Buicks and 1970s Ladas. Tourists manoeuvre the streets in brand new Peugeots – the Hertz and Avis signs like stickers proclaiming them part of an elite club.

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