Each morning, when I step out the door and onto Infanta, there’s the triple assault on the senses: dog shit from dachsunds and mixed breeds; diesel fumes belched out in plumes from the tailpipes of Ladas and camellos, and piles of garbage sitting on street corners, baking in the sun as they wait to be picked up and carted off.
Within minutes, I feel dirty.
By day 7, I’m wondering what the long-term health hazards of living here might be.
For all of its grit, though, Havana offers the “developed” world some useful lessons in green living: