One of the things you will read in a guide book as a must-do is to visit El Morro at night to see the daily canon ceremony, called the cañonazo. After about two months in La Habana, we decided it was time to see it. Three of the couples decided to make it a date night, and we headed to Old Havana. When we reached the entrance, the path was only lit by small lights. We reached a gate where a man told us that we could save money by going the back way with him. For some reason, we all believed him, and I’m still not sure if it was a scam or not. But it definitely made the experience an adventure. We decided to give the guy a couple CUC to “save us money” although none of us knew for sure that there was an entrance fee at all. Either way, he waved for us to follow him, and we did. Over the crumbling stone wall, down a dirt path, through a large field that seemed to go on for miles in the starry darkness, across an old bridge that crossed over a deep moat, behind the back walls of the castle, through an old archway, and out into the ceremony. I felt like a spy or undetected enemy as we sneaked around the ancient castle at night but was brought back to reality when we popped out into the middle of a crowd of tourists in Che hats and Dockers.
The ceremony was short but interesting and we stood silently as we watched the soldiers, dressed in their typical white uniforms, complete with hat and rifle. They marched back and forth in front of us,
preparing the canon one step at a time; getting the gunpowder, stuffing it into the bell of the canon with a long metal pole, each stroke with a hollow “thump”, getting more gunpowder(or whatever else they put in there), stuffing it in again, etc. Right before they shot off the canon they all got into formation, standing at attention, lit the fuse, and with a loud bang, the canon was shot. Standing there, among the tourists and our Cuban friends, watching one of the oldest traditions of the city, was the perfect mix of past and present, of old history and new.
The crowd dispersed quickly, but we strolled around, enjoying the atmosphere of the old castle at night, lit only by dim yellow lights, preserving the mysteriousness of the wise walls and hollow windows. On our way out, ears still slightly ringing, we stopped on the cobblestones, inspired by cha-cha-cha playing from somewhere close by, and danced in the warm moonlight.
The ceremony was short but interesting and we stood silently as we watched the soldiers, dressed in their typical white uniforms, complete with hat and rifle. They marched back and forth in front of us,
preparing the canon one step at a time; getting the gunpowder, stuffing it into the bell of the canon with a long metal pole, each stroke with a hollow “thump”, getting more gunpowder(or whatever else they put in there), stuffing it in again, etc. Right before they shot off the canon they all got into formation, standing at attention, lit the fuse, and with a loud bang, the canon was shot. Standing there, among the tourists and our Cuban friends, watching one of the oldest traditions of the city, was the perfect mix of past and present, of old history and new.
The crowd dispersed quickly, but we strolled around, enjoying the atmosphere of the old castle at night, lit only by dim yellow lights, preserving the mysteriousness of the wise walls and hollow windows. On our way out, ears still slightly ringing, we stopped on the cobblestones, inspired by cha-cha-cha playing from somewhere close by, and danced in the warm moonlight.
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