Havana’s nightlife falls dark as an oil blockade takes hold

Cuba’s Nightlife Dims as Economic Crisis and Oil Embargo Take Toll

The streets of Havana have fallen eerily silent. Once vibrant boulevards now lie empty after dark, with theaters shuttered and bars and cafes drawing their curtains early. The Cuban capital, known for its lively nightlife, has been plunged into darkness under the weight of an oil embargo and the country’s worst economic crisis in decades.

“I feel empty inside when I see my streets empty,” says Yusleydi Blanco, a 41-year-old accountant from Havana. “I can’t be happy when my country is sad.”

The contrast with Cuba’s recent past is stark. Following the 2016 diplomatic breakthrough between then-Presidents Barack Obama and Raúl Castro that eased U.S. travel restrictions, Cuba experienced an economic revival fueled by tourism. Money flowed into the island as visitor numbers surged, allowing a small but growing class of entrepreneurs to establish private businesses under newly relaxed regulations.

By 2018, Cuba welcomed a record 4.7 million tourists. Hotel accommodations were so scarce that travelers without bookings could be found sleeping in parks in popular destinations like Viñales, a small western town known for its limestone cliffs that attract thousands of tourists and rock climbers.

Today’s reality could not be more different. Gasoline is strictly rationed to just 20 liters (5 gallons) per vehicle, with owners sometimes waiting months for their turn at the pump. Public transportation has been severely curtailed, with buses stopping service at 6 p.m. International carriers including Air France, Air Canada, and Iberia have suspended flights to Havana due to the impossibility of refueling there.

In the upscale El Vedado neighborhood, the usual hum of traffic has disappeared, replaced by the chirping of birds—a sound that had been largely drowned out during busier times. According to government figures, tourist arrivals have plummeted, with just 77,600 visitors in February compared to 178,000 during the same month last year.

“This is worse than the Special Period,” says Dolores de la Caridad Méndez, a 65-year-old parking attendant, referring to the years of economic devastation that followed the collapse of the Soviet Union, Cuba’s Cold War benefactor, in the 1990s.

Unlike his Democratic predecessors, U.S. President Donald Trump has tightened economic sanctions against Cuba, demanding political reforms, the release of political prisoners, and liberalization of the island’s struggling economy. The Trump administration’s second term has seen a particularly aggressive approach, including the oil embargo that has crippled Cuba’s energy sector.

The deepening crisis has led to persistent blackouts, cuts to the state-run food ration system, and severe shortages of water and medicine, turning daily life into an ordeal for many of Cuba’s 10 million citizens. The dire situation has triggered an exodus of approximately 1.4 million Cubans between 2021 and 2024—mostly young people, but also including musicians, actors, dancers, and other entertainment professionals who once fueled Havana’s vibrant nightlife.

The situation worsened dramatically in January when the U.S. captured then-President Nicolás Maduro of Venezuela, which had been Cuba’s primary oil supplier. The Trump administration subsequently severed that supply line and threatened to impose tariffs on other countries selling oil to Cuba. The island went without a single shipment until March when a Russian tanker finally arrived with much-needed fuel.

For entrepreneurs across the island, survival has become increasingly difficult as tourism collapses and the domestic market suffers under harsh economic realities.

“You wake up and you’re ready to conquer the world, saying, ‘Today I’ll sell more than ever,'” explains Yeni Pérez, owner of the Old Havana café Entre Nos. “Then not a single client comes in and you go home devastated.”

Despite the hardships, some Cubans maintain their resilience. “The next day,” Pérez adds, “You say, ‘Let’s give it another chance.’ It’s a time that’s testing everyone’s stamina.”

The impact extends beyond the economic sphere, affecting the cultural identity of a nation known for its music, dance, and vibrant street life. The vintage American cars from the 1950s that once shared roads with newer imported vehicles are now mostly parked, their owners unable to secure fuel to operate them. These classic automobiles, long a symbol of Cuba’s unique relationship with time and history, sit idle—another visual reminder of how deeply the crisis has affected even the most iconic aspects of Cuban life.