The “Special Period in Time of Peace” was a brutal economic depression in Cuba that began in 1991 following the collapse of the Soviet Union. It caused an immediate 80% loss in imports, a 30% drop in GDP, and widespread hunger.
This era explains why your hotel might lack hot water, why the food is simple, and why the Cuban people are the most resourceful mechanics on earth. It redefined their identity from Soviet-dependent to fiercely self-reliant.
To really get Cuba, you have to understand that for thirty years, the island was effectively a subsidized state of the Soviet Union. They traded sugar for oil at rates that defied global economics. When the Berlin Wall fell and the USSR dissolved in 1991, that lifeline was severed instantly. Imagine losing 80% of your salary overnight, but your bills remain the same. That is what happened to the entire nation.
Fidel Castro coined the term “Special Period in Time of Peace” to prepare the population for war-time austerity without the actual war. It was a masterclass in branding a disaster, but the reality was grim. The lights went out. The “apagon” (blackout) became a daily reality. In my visits to Havana, older locals often tell me about the silence of the city in 1993. There were no cars, no televisions buzzing, and no streetlights. Just heat and darkness.
The industrial paralysis was total. Factories that relied on Soviet parts and Soviet fuel simply stopped. The sugar harvest, the backbone of the economy for centuries, failed because there was no fuel for the harvesters and no spare parts for the mills. The GDP contracted by 35% between 1989 and 1993. For comparison, the US economy during the Great Recession of 2008 contracted by about 4-5%. The scale of the Cuban collapse is hard for us to comprehend.
Travelers often ask me why Havana looks “frozen in time.” It’s not a stylistic choice. Construction stopped in 1991. Maintenance stopped. Concrete, paint, and steel became impossible to find. The crumbling buildings you take photos of in Old Havana are the physical scars of this economic abandonment. The government had to choose between importing oil for electricity or importing food. They often couldn’t afford either.
The psychological toll was immense. A generation of professionals—doctors, engineers, professors—found their salaries worthless. This was the era when the “brain drain” began in earnest, or conversely, when brain surgeons started driving taxis because tips in US dollars were worth more than a month’s state salary. This inversion of the social pyramid is something you will still see today.
Understanding this crash is vital for your trip. When you experience a service delay or a missing amenity, it’s not laziness. It is the lingering effect of a system that broke three decades ago and has been held together with duct tape and willpower ever since.
If you talk to any Cuban over the age of 40, they will have a story about what they ate during the Special Period. And usually, the story involves what they didn’t eat. Before 1989, the Cuban diet was high-calorie, reliant on Soviet canned meats, lard, and dairy. When the ships stopped coming, the calories vanished. The average daily intake dropped from 3,000 to roughly 1,900. Widespread malnutrition set in.
This era birthed “survival cuisine.” I had a client recently complain that she couldn’t find good beef in Cuba. I had to explain that during the 90s, killing a cow was a crime punishable by more jail time than killing a human. Cows were for milk (for children), not for meat. People became incredibly inventive out of desperation. There are verified stories of “bistec de toronja”—breaded and fried grapefruit rinds seasoned to look like steak. Or “picadillo” made from banana peels.
But from this hunger came a green revolution. With no pesticides or fertilizers available (as they were all petrochemicals), Cuba was forced to turn to organic farming. They didn’t do it for the environment; they did it to eat. The government handed over vacant urban lots to anyone willing to farm them. These became the Organopónicos.
Havana transformed into a garden city. High-yield vegetable plots appeared in parking lots, between apartment blocks, and on rooftops. Today, these gardens still exist and provide a huge percentage of the leafy greens consumed in the city. When you eat a salad in a Paladar (private restaurant), it is likely organic and grown within a few miles. It is some of the cleanest produce in the world, strictly by necessity.
However, the lack of imported spices and fats changed the palate. The food became very simple: rice, black beans, stubborn root vegetables like yuca and malanga, and occasionally pork. This is why Cuban food has a reputation for being “bland” compared to other Caribbean cuisines like Jamaican. The generation of chefs cooking now grew up without access to cumin, paprika, or even sufficient garlic. They learned to cook for survival, not flavor.
Things are changing now. Private restaurants have better access to imports through “mules” (people bringing goods in suitcases). But when you sit down for a meal, remember that the plate of rice and beans represents a victory over starvation.
The transport crisis of the Special Period was perhaps the most visible sign of the collapse. Oil imports dropped by nearly 90%. In a modern society, if you remove oil, everything stops. Buses couldn’t run. Cars ran out of gas. The streets of Havana became eerily quiet. The solution? Bicycles.
China supplied over a million bicycles to Cuba. The “Flying Pigeon” brand became the national vehicle. For a few years, Havana looked more like Amsterdam or Beijing than a Caribbean capital. Architects, laborers, and students all cycled miles in the tropical heat. It reshaped the city’s rhythm and is a testament to the physical endurance of the people.
For mass transit, the government improvised the “Camello” (Camel). These were engineering monstrosities: flatbed semi-trucks with a metal bus body welded onto the back. The trailer had two humps in the roof to allow people to stand, hence the name. They were designed to carry 200 people but often carried 400. They were hot, airless, and notorious for pickpockets, but they kept the city moving.
While the Camellos were retired in Havana around 2008 (you might still see one rusting in a field or running in a rural province), they symbolize the mindset of the era: Resolver. This is the most important word you will learn in Cuba. It means “to resolve,” but effectively it means “to solve a problem using whatever non-standard materials you have at hand.”
During the Special Period, if your fan broke, you fixed it with a washing machine motor. If your shoes tore, you stitched them with fishing line. If your 1957 Chevy needed a brake master cylinder, you machined one out of Soviet tractor parts. Nothing was thrown away. Everything was repurposed.
As a traveler, you will see “Resolver” everywhere. You see it when a taxi driver fixes a flat tire without a jack. You see it when a bartender makes a mojito with honey because there is no white sugar. It is a refusal to accept defeat. It is why the classic American cars are still running. They aren’t running on original parts; they are running on Cuban ingenuity. When I book tours for clients, I always suggest a classic car tour, not just for the photos, but to talk to the driver about how the car is still running.
So, why does a history lesson from the 1990s matter for your trip in 2025? Because in many ways, Cuba is entering a “Special Period 2.0.” Post-pandemic inflation and tighter sanctions have brought back shortages. The resilience you see today is a muscle that was built in the 90s.
The Dual Economy & Currency: The most confusing part for travelers is money. In the 90s, the US Dollar was legalized to save the economy. Then came the CUC (Convertible Peso). Now, the CUC is dead, and we are back to a mix of CUP (Cuban Peso) and foreign currency (Euro/USD). The official exchange rate is often vastly lower than the street rate. The “Jineteros” (street hustlers) know this. They will offer to exchange your money. Be careful. I always advise my clients to bring small bills in Euros and exchange only with their trusted host or at official spots if they prioritize safety over value.
Safety & The “Friendship” Scam: The economic desperation born in the Special Period created a class of professional hustlers. Cuba is physically safe—you are unlikely to be mugged. But you might be “finessed.” A common scenario: A friendly local hears your accent, asks where you are from, and invites you to a “cooperative” to buy cigars or a bar for a drink. You end up with a bill for $100 for three drinks. This isn’t malice; it’s survival. Treat interactions with polite skepticism.
What to Bring: The shortages mean you cannot just “pop to the shop.” The shop might be empty.
Traveling to Cuba is not like traveling to the Dominican Republic or Cancun. It requires patience. But the reward is witnessing a human spirit that is unbreakable. The music, the laughter, and the dancing exist despite the hardship, which makes it all the more beautiful. If you are looking for a beach flop, go elsewhere. If you want to see the resilience of the human soul, go to Cuba.
Yes, Cuba remains one of the safest destinations in the Caribbean for travelers. The government places a massive emphasis on protecting the tourism industry, as it is one of the few sources of hard currency. Violent crime against tourists is extremely rare. You can walk through Havana at night with a level of safety you wouldn’t find in many US cities.
However, the economic hardship stemming from the Special Period has created a culture of opportunism. Petty theft (phones, wallets) does happen, especially in crowded areas or on the beach. The main “danger” is the jinetero culture—hustlers who try to sell you fake cigars, currency, or lead you to expensive bars to earn a commission. The rule of thumb: If a stranger on the street approaches you speaking perfect English and is overly friendly, they are likely working. Be polite, say “no gracias,” and keep walking.
The Special Period completely dismantled the Cuban pantry. Before the 90s, the diet was rich in animal protein and imports. The crisis forced a shift to a high-starch, plant-based survival diet. This is why you see so much rice, beans (Moros y Cristianos), plantains, and root vegetables. It also led to the creation of organopónicos, making Cuba an accidental leader in organic urban farming.
For the traveler, this means that while the ingredients are often fresh and organic, the flavor profile can be repetitive or under-seasoned due to a historical lack of spices, onions, and garlic. However, the last decade has seen a boom in private restaurants (paladares) where chefs are using creativity and imported goods (often brought in suitcases) to revitalize Cuban cuisine. Don’t judge the food by the state-run hotel buffets; go to the private homes to taste the real evolution of Cuban cooking.
While the presence of 1950s American cars is due to the US Embargo (which started in 1960), their survival is due to the Special Period. When the Soviet Union collapsed, the supply of Ladas and Soviet spare parts also vanished. Cubans had to keep the existing American cars running with absolutely zero access to original parts.
This necessitated the “Resolver” mentality. If you look under the hood of a pristine-looking ’57 Chevy in Havana, you likely won’t see a Chevy engine. You might find a Hyundai diesel engine, a boat motor, or a patchwork of parts from Russian trucks. These cars are not just vintage collectibles; they are “Frankenstein” machines kept alive by the sheer brilliance of Cuban mechanics who had to innovate to survive the transport collapse of the 90s.
This is the most complex part of Cuban travel. As of late 2024/2025, the currency situation is volatile. The CUC is gone. The official currency is the CUP (Peso Cubano), but the economy effectively runs on foreign hard currency. Cash is King. Do not rely on credit cards, especially if issued by a US bank (they will not work).
Bring Euros or USD in cash. Small denominations (5s, 10s, 20s) are crucial. You will use foreign cash to pay for private taxis, private restaurants, and tips. You will use CUP for small street snacks or government transport. Exchange a small amount of money into CUP upon arrival, but keep most of your funds in Euros/USD. The informal exchange rate on the street is much higher than the bank, but it carries risk. Ask your casa particular host to help you exchange money safely.
Absolutely. The Special Period isn’t just history; it is the visual fabric of the country. The most obvious evidence is the architecture. The lack of paint and crumbling facades in Centro Habana are the result of 30+ years of deferred maintenance that began in 1991. The concrete stopped flowing, and the buildings have been aging without repair ever since.
You also see it in the “waiting culture.” Cubans are experts at waiting—for the bus, for bread, for paperwork. This patience was forged in the 90s. Furthermore, the lack of consumerism is stark. You won’t see billboards for Coke or Nike; you see political slogans. The absence of “stuff” is a direct result of the trade collapse. When you visit, you are walking through a living museum of resilience against economic isolation.
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