The New York Times-20080125-Sounds and Flavors of a Land Left Behind

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Sounds and Flavors of a Land Left Behind

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CUBAN culture is as integral to Miami's colorful fabric as the palm tree. One could be easily forgiven, in fact, for forgetting that the city's most ubiquitous import -- the cafecito window, where locals of all persuasions converge to down tiny shots of strong, sugary coffee -- has not been a fixture here for as long as the sand or the sun. Other elements play the same tricks on the mind, from minty mojitos to those boxy guayabera shirts, making it a challenge to spend even a few hours in Miami without experiencing at least a hint of its Cuban accent.

But it's certainly possible to dig deeper, to be immersed in ways so distilled that you could forget that you have not left the United States.

Take, for example, the scene on a balmy December night at Hoy Como Ayer (Today as Yesterday), a diminutive live-music club in the Little Havana neighborhood. A fired-up crowd in suits, guayaberas and slinky dresses nibbled on tapas of cheese cubes and tostones, served, cleverly, in cigar boxes. They had packed the place to see Miami's own exile music queen, Albita Rodriguez, known simply as Albita.

There are a lot of Cubans here tonight, right? she asked the audience, in Spanish, between explosive numbers, and received what was certainly an expected response: joyous whoops and a burst of applause.

After strolling into the crowd and weaving around the cabaret-style tables to take a poll of people's homelands (Cuba, followed by Spain, Brazil, Colombia and the Dominican Republic), Albita sang a passionate tribute to her own land: Que culpa tengo yo estas caderas? Que culpa tengo yo este sabor? Que culpa tengo yo haber nacido en Cuba? (What fault of mine are these hips? What fault of mine is this flavor? What fault of it is mine that I was born in Cuba?) By the end of the song, the entire house had joined in, erupting with extra gusto along with the final chant of Cuba! Cuba! punctuated by Albita's fist pumping into the air.

Roughly half the Cubans and Cuban-Americans in the United States live in the Miami-Dade County area, making up at least half of its 2.4 million residents, according to the estimate of Damian Fernandez, vice provost of Florida International University, based in Miami, and director of its Cuban Research Institute. And while the face of Latin Miami has certainly shifted as waves of new immigrants have arrived from Central and South America, the predominant flavor has remained. In a way, the infrastructure of Latin Miami is a Cuban infrastructure, said Dr. Fernandez, 50, a Cuban native. That traces back to the Havana-meets-Miami heyday of the pre-revolution '50s and continues as more Cuban exiles arrive.

Though many Cubans have spread out beyond Miami's city limits, the best starting place for an infusion of Cuban culture is still Little Havana, especially the slightly scruffy, well-trafficked stretch of Southwest Eighth Street, or the Tamiami Trail, between 17th and 27th Avenues that's known as Calle Ocho. It's defined by aromatic cigar and coffee shops, a perpetual blare of salsa trumpets wafting from the distance, and the domino and chess games of older men who gather daily in tiny Maximo Gomez Park. The place truly comes alive for Viernes Culturales, the last-Friday-of-the-month street party of gallery openings and live performances.

Though Cubans now account for just 47 percent of its population, according to Dr. Fernandez, Little Havana is still the symbolic heart of Cuban Miami. And others say it's more than that.

It's real, baby, said Angel Hernandez, 43, a proprietor of Los Pinarenos Fruteria fruit bar, hacking open smooth green coconuts before stabbing them with straws for a couple of thirsty customers. Though his shop is visited by up to three tour buses daily, he rebuffed the idea that this stretch of Calle Ocho has become a facade, like New York City's Little Italy.

Calle Ocho is everything, said Raul Musibay, one of the Three Guys From Miami whose Web site (www.icuban.com) and cookbook Three Guys From Miami Cook Cuban strive to bring the Cuban side of the city to the masses. Mr. Musibay, 65, a Citgo station manager in nearby Coral Gables, took time between car-repair customers to speak of being a political prisoner in Cuba before fleeing with his family to Florida, via Spain, in 1980. You will find more restaurants from other countries there now, just as you'll find Cubans all over Miami, he said. But Calle Ocho is the place.

Among an influx of new businesses on this part of Southwest Eighth Street are Alfaro's (No. 1604), a wine and tapas lounge, and a couple of new cigar shops including Art District Cigars (No. 1638), where Marco Incer -- a native of Nicaragua, incidentally -- rolls cigars and holds live music performances. And there are plenty of stalwarts: Lily's Records (No. 1419), packed with CDs in genres from Buena Vista-style son to Mexican ranchera, and restaurants like Exquisito (No. 1510) or Versailles (No. 3555), both serving guava-stuffed sweets, hot Cuban sandwiches and steaming plates of ropa vieja (stewed shredded beef).

A branch of Sedano's Supermarket (No. 2425) has aisles of Caribbean fruits, meats and canned goods, and the Little Havana to Go souvenir shop (No. 1442) is stocked with Panama hats, dominoes and colorful sets of maracas. Outside its door, a local Walk of Fame in the brick sidewalk pays tribute to entertainment figures including Gloria Estefan.

But it's the dozen or so Latin-art galleries that really anchor the neighborhood. I love Calle Ocho because it represents Cuba, and I paint in a very Cuban style, said Molina, 64 (an artist admitting to only one name), emerging from the back-room studio of his Molina Fine Art (No. 1634) wearing a Yankees baseball cap and whistling along with softly playing son music. Molina, whose vibrant paintings and giclee prints reflect themes of Afro-Cuban folklore, left Cuba for New York City in 1980 and came to Miami six years ago.

His storefront is around the corner from the small Bay of Pigs Museum, a cramped collection of memorabilia, writings and photos honoring the felled 2506 Brigade of 1961. It puts the neighborhood in immediate political context, as does the Cuban Memorial Boulevard, a few blocks north on Southwest 13th Avenue, with its 2506 Brigade memorial, a brass relief of Cuba and a bust of the 19th-century poet and freedom fighter Jose Marti. A ceiba tree receives offerings from Santeria worshipers, its giant roots pressing up out of the earth like rough-skinned dinosaur claws.

OTHER Cuban landmarks radiate outward from Little Havana. The Freedom Tower, a butter-yellow Spanish Renaissance Revival-style beacon in downtown Miami, served as an immigration processing center for more than 400,000 Cubans in the 1960s; a museum is planned there. On the shores of Biscayne Bay in Coconut Grove, the Ermita de la Caridad is a tepee-shaped shrine to displaced Cubans, a Catholic chapel featuring a striking sepia mural of exiles' struggles.

In Coral Gables, the Cernuda Arte gallery shows only Cuban work; Important Cuban Artworks: Volume Six, opening next week, will feature a group of contemporary painters. Nearby, a show running through Feb. 3 at the Lowe Art Museum at the University of Miami is made up of 56 Afro-Cuban prints and drawings, including a familiar image of Che Guevara by Rafael Queneditt-Morales.

It's really through the arts that you get the true pulse of what is Cuban, Dr. Fernandez noted.

Food helps, too. In West Miami, the jammin' Palacio de los Jugos doles out tasty Cuban tamales, grilled pork and fresh papaya or mamey juice toSunday mobs. And Enriqueta's, a bright orange, family-owned diner, is a festive island on a gritty stretch of the city's Wynwood district.

This is the place where you will have the best pan con bistec, declared Mabel Castro, 57, a real estate and bail-bonds agent and an Enriqueta's regular. She sat perched at the counter with hers, a freshly delivered sandwich of grilled steak topped with shoestring fries, while a flurry of women in the open kitchen served coffee through a side window, worked blenders for frothy mamey shakes and toasted Cuban sandwiches in heavy metal presses.

Between bites, Ms. Castro said that while Miami's Latino community has indeed been diversified with Central and South Americans over the years, Cubans still feel special. Because we were the first to arrive here, she said, we like to think we are different.

VISITOR INFORMATION

Little Havana is easily accessible by car, from Miami Beach or downtown Miami. Take Interstate 95 south to the Dolphin Expressway and exit at Northwest 27th Avenue to Southwest Eighth Street.

Accommodations most convenient to Little Havana are in Coral Gables and include the Westin Colonnade (180 Aragon Avenue, 305-441-2600; www.starwoodhotels.com/westin/coralgables); rooms from $499.

Los Pinarenos Fruteria (1334 Southwest Eighth Street; 305-285-1135) sells fresh fruits and Cuban snacks. At Enriqueta's (186 Northeast 29th Street; 305-573-4681) the pan con bistec is $5.50. Palacio de los Jugos (5721 West Flagler Street; 305-264-8662) sells Cuban tamales for 50 cents apiece.

Hoy Como Ayer (2212 Southwest Eighth Street, 305-541-2631) posts a performance schedule at www.hoycomoayer.net.

Bay of Pigs Museum and Library (1821 Southwest Ninth Street, 305-649-4719; www.bayofpigsmuseum.org) is open 9 a.m. to 4 p.m. Monday to Saturday. Admission is free.

Ermita de la Caridad (3609 South Miami Avenue; 305-854-2404) is open 9 a.m. to 9:30 p.m. daily.

Cernuda Arte (4155 Ponce de Leon Boulevard; 305-461-1050;) lists artists and shows at www.cernudaarte.com.

The Lowe Art Museum (1301 Stanford Drive; 305-284-3535; www.lowemuseum.org) is on the campus of the University of Miami; admission is $7.

[Illustration]PHOTOS: WELCOME: Hoy Como Ayer, left, and the Freedom Tower, where Cuban immigrants were processed. (PHOTOGRAPHS BY BARBARA P. FERNANDEZ FOR THE NEW YORK TIMES)MAP Map of Miami, Florida.