Cuba – Tourism Severely Hit by US Tensions and Loss of Venezuelan Oil

2026-01-29 - 14:03

Shortly before midday in Havana, a small yellow bus pulls to the curb and releases a handful of tourists eager to photograph the city’s iconic classic cars. Nearby, drivers spring to attention beneath the shade of a beach almond tree, hopeful for their first fare of the day. But after a few hurried selfies in front of gleaming 1950s Pontiacs and Buicks, the visitors drift away without hiring a ride. “This is grim,” said Reymundo Aldama, owner of a bubblegum-pink 1957 Ford Fairlane convertible. “We’re waiting for them to come. We’re waiting for work.” Scenes like this have become increasingly common as Cuba’s tourism industry sinks into one of its deepest slumps in decades. Visitor arrivals have fallen by nearly 70 percent since 2018, depriving the island of a crucial source of foreign exchange. After years of steady growth that fueled employment and private enterprise, tourism was first crippled by the COVID-19 pandemic, then further undermined by rolling blackouts and tighter US sanctions. Now, the crisis is intensifying as fuel shortages ripple through the economy. Oil shipments from Venezuela, long a lifeline for Cuba, have been disrupted following US military action and the arrest of Venezuela’s president. Compounding the problem, Mexico announced this week that it would temporarily suspend its oil supplies to the island. Economists warn the combined shocks could push Cuba toward a severe economic breakdown, with those dependent on tourism among the most exposed. Rosbel Figueredo Ricardo, 30, feels the strain daily. He sells chivirico, a popular street snack made of fried flour chips dusted with sugar. Not long ago, he prepared 150 bags each morning and sold out by mid-afternoon. Today, he carries just 50 bags, works from dawn until nightfall, and sometimes returns home without making a single sale. “I’m a trained industrial mechanical technician, and this is what I’m doing,” he said quietly. With a partner, three children, and another on the way, Figueredo worries constantly about survival. “This is our daily struggle, just so we can eat,” he said. On a recent afternoon, after finding no customers along Havana’s famous Malecón, he walked toward the Spanish Embassy. There, dozens of Cubans line up every day seeking visas to leave the country, and he hoped at least some might buy his snacks. For decades, tourism generated up to US$3 billion annually for Cuba. Restaurants were full, the seawall buzzed with activity, and visitors crowded historic sites and government landmarks. That steady inflow of travelers sustained thousands of jobs and gave rise to hundreds of small private businesses, from guesthouses to family-run eateries. Today, with tourists scarce, fuel in short supply, and geopolitical tensions mounting, many Cubans fear the island’s tourism collapse is no longer a temporary downturn but a symptom of a far deeper national crisis.