Biased by Definition¶
Cuba became front-page news long after my trip to Havana had been planned. Suddenly, in January 2026, the island became a place where history seemed to be taking a dramatic turn.
To begin with, according to some of my friends (who had been going to Cuba for photography workshops for years), it was already a “destination impossible” in the spring of 2025. Then the island was hit by a hurricane and cut off from oil supplies, and life there became even more difficult. News reports in January and February 2026 painted an apocalyptic picture of the situation in Cuba.
At the same time, also in February, when I asked a Cuban photographer living in Havana about life, he simply said: “Shortages and blackouts, as usual.”
Then the first people from my group arrived in Havana. The first thing they did was send an email saying, more or less: “It’s just Cuba with less traffic.”
When I finally joined, my friends—who had been going there every year—told me that the situation was actually better than in previous years. Apparently, it had become easier to arrange things and buy products.
Then my photography adventure began. During our photo walks, people in our group started noticing different things. Some of us saw new cars on the streets; others saw only empty shelves in state-run shops.
Mainstream news outlets were reporting protests on the streets, creating an atmosphere of political change not seen since 1959. On the same day, a Polish journalist we met, who was working on a piece about Cuba for a major Polish newspaper, was convinced that change was unlikely and that nobody really cared about what Trump said.
After reading online diaries of people living in Cuba and walking through Centro Habana for a few days myself, I have no doubt that life there is extremely difficult. But I couldn’t fully feel it firsthand. Despite walking the same streets, the few dollars I was spending placed me in a bubble. It gave me access to good food, insulated me from power shortages, and allowed me to live and travel on the island in comfort.
I’m pretty sure the bubble worked both ways. I couldn’t grasp the reality of Cubans standing in line for bread, and they probably couldn’t imagine that I had spent my money and free time—and traveled so far—just to photograph them standing there.
I tried to document what I saw on the streets. Only public spaces, no special events—just daily life. But of course, I made subconscious choices every time I pressed the shutter. I photographed an old car on the Malecón, but not a contemporary Hyundai or Kia. I walked the streets of Centro Habana, not those of a more affluent neighborhood.
In the end, we are all biased by definition. We live in our own bubbles, see what we want to see, and interpret the world in ways that match our beliefs.
The good thing, however, is that when we share our biased views with each other, we challenge how others see the world—and with a bit of luck, we all become more objective.
So take a look at my Cuban Frames, and challenge your own perspective with my biased view of daily life in Cuba in March 2026.