The Ice Cream Man

It was a bright and beautiful Thursday morning when I was guiding a walking tour throughout the narrow streets of Old Havana, Cuba. Our travelers were a dear couple from the northeast United States and they were enjoying eight days throughout Cuba on a Custom Luxury Tour. 

As we rounded the corner near Plaza de Armas, Dawn, the wife, randomly asked, “Hey Colby, are there Muslims in Cuba?” I replied, “Yes ma’am, there are. The only mosque in the country is actually just around this corner.”

While strolling by, I quickly explained a little bit about the mosque and how Cuba proudly says that it houses every religion in the world. We never slowed our stride but continued on our way toward the Plaza of San Francisco. Surprisingly, nothing more was said about Muslims in Cuba. It seemed to be just a moment of passing wonder. 

The third day of their travels was the day after the walking tour. By then, they had already soaked up an incredible amount of culture and began to get into their groove. They had already begun to kick back and relax, comfortably and thoroughly enjoying themselves, especially during their cocktail lesson with our dear friend Lorena. 

They were about their second cocktail in when Dawn excitedly exclaimed, “Oh! There it is again!” A little bit confused, I leaned in and asked, “There what is again?” She said with enthusiasm and a child-like grin on her face, “The call to prayer! I think I just heard the call to prayer again!” Thinking that this would be a first, I said, “Hmm… let me see.” So I walked over to the edge of the third-floor terrace and leaned into the street. After a few moments of waiting, I heard (in Spanish), “ICE CREAM SANDWIIIIIICH!” 

Immediately, our hosts and I, who speak both Spanish and English, about passed out from debilitating laughter. And, after explaining what “Bocadito del Helado” meant, Dawn, being the good sport she is, laughed, shook her head, and said with an endearing smile, “Oh, I know I’m never gonna live this one down.”

…so to keep in step with Dawn’s statement, every now and then when I hear the Ice Cream Man shouting throughout the streets of Old Havana, I text Dawn and say, “I just heard the ‘call to prayer’ and thought of you. I hope y’all are doing great!” Oh, but the best part may be that the Ice Cream Man now knows that his shouts are also known as “the call to prayer.”