Letter from Havana: A great refuge from the heat and hustle of Havana is the elegant Hotel Inglaterra on Parque Central in the throbbing heart of the old city, writes John Moran.
At a table in the tiled patio you can enjoy the occasional caress of a cool January breeze while watching the strangest of characters pass by. Sitting here, your reverie will be interrupted from time to time by occasional hustles from people trying to sell you anything from dodgy cigars to certain services of a personal kind.
Perhaps the most shocking hustle, though, comes from a guy who stands at the hedging that separates the sidewalk from the terrace cafe and sticks the stump of his arm over the hedge towards the nearest table, totally grossing out the more sensitive tourists who up until then would have been enjoying the passing parade.
For a few coins the unfortunate man will pass on and allow you to recover your composure. He's been doing this for years.
To avoid such distractions and the heat, it is well worth moving inside to the hotel's elegant Sevilliana cafe, its high walls and arches overlaid with elaborately patterned tiles in greens, creams, golds and oranges. Potted plants and a marble floor add to the impression of a cool Moorish hall, all its elements dedicated towards keeping the heat at bay.
A further touch of genteel civility is provided by a pianist tinkling out old romantic and melancholy tunes, and you might complete the mood of great relaxation with a light order from the bar menu; perhaps the tea, toast and marmalade.
This place, however, wasn't always a welcome oasis of serenity, and actually had an important part to play in the collapse of the Spanish empire.
In the Sevilliana bar of the Inglaterra, during the Cuban war of independence against colonial Spain at the end of the 19th century, the bar was a noisy place, rife with rumour and intrigue, as journalists and spooks congregated while guzzling the hotel's famous Ramos gin fizzes. The war stories were cabled from the hotel's wire office.
A youthful Winston Churchill was here in his capacity as both journalist and spook. Ostensibly he was covering the war, but he was also here on behalf of her majesty's secret service with the specific task of assessing the efficacy in the field of a new Spanish bullet.
Another regular was war artist and journalist Frederic Remington, who wrote, "The revolt against Spain came, and Havana became the centre of the earth". And the epicentre of it all was where "the big cafe of the Inglaterra clattered its wares".
Remington was a correspondent for Randolph Hearst, the powerful newspaper magnate whose New York Journal competed with the rest of the US warmongering yellow press to paint a picture of the Spanish army as one of cruelty and brutality. Hearst's intention was to prepare the US public for intervention against Spain.
From the Sevilliana, Remington sent a cable to Hearst: "Everything is quiet . . . There will be no war [US intervention against Spain]." Hearst famously cabled back, "Please remain. You furnish the pictures, and I'll furnish the war."
Whatever else he was, Hearst was as good as his word.
The war came to the Inglaterra in a most spectacular way when a monstrous explosion in Havana harbour sent the hotel's contingent of correspondents scurrying en masse to the scene of the blast. On arrival they discovered that a US battleship, the Maine, had been blown to smithereens and lay at the bottom of the harbour.
More than 250 marines lost their lives in the incident. Even though it was later ruled an accident and not a Spanish attack (the ship's ammunition store blew up), Hearst newspapers were to the forefront in blaming Spain for the affront to the US and the catastrophic loss of life. The rallying cry of "Remember the Maine" roused fervent anti-Spanish passions and initiated an unstoppable momentum for a US declaration of war against Spain.
Remington dutifully crafted the required vitriolic texts and images, demonising the Spanish army and its leader - the odious Gen Weyler - who needed no black propaganda.
Weyler was responsible for the creation of concentration camps throughout the countryside where Cuban peasants were taken from their villages to die in their thousands. Weyler, wrote Remington, "intended to exterminate the race".
Incidentally, Churchill, while initially sympathetic to the Cuban insurgents, later changed his mind. He wrote that Cuba was the jewel in the Spanish colonial crown and asked how Britain would feel if it were to lose Ireland.
Alas for Churchill, Spain lost its Cuban jewel just 112 days after US intervention (the Cubans having done the hard work in the previous three years of war) and all of 400 years since Christopher Columbus had first espied the Pearl of the Antilles.
Such is the richness of Havana's history that buildings such as the Inglaterra might invoke dramatic events from the great sweeps of history that have brushed through the city.
However, in the Sevilliana cafe bar these days, your peace should only be gently disturbed by someone looking for your order. While this may no longer include the famous Ramos gin fizz, you can always settle for the tea, toast and marmalade.