The Linea Street Tunnel in Havana is Pitch Black
The time when the Orquesta America sang “they want to cross the tunnel” to celebrate that engineering work is long ago.
HAVANA TIMES – In Havana there are several types of darkness. There is the one that is sought voluntarily, for a romantic moment, and the other, the most common, is the one imposed by the crisis. The fuel shortage extends blackouts throughout the city, and the deterioration of public lighting makes places like the tunnel on Línea Street turn pitch black. The road that connects El Vedado with the Miramar neighborhood is now a gloomy place that drivers avoid.
“I haven’t been here for a long time and my hair has stood on end,” commented on Wednesday the driver of a car linked to the La Nave application that moved a customer from the vicinity of Central Park to the vicinity of the Karl Marx theater. “With your eyes accustomed to sunlight you move on to this that has a few lamps that do not illuminate anything. It is very dangerous because even if you have good headlights in the car there is almost no visibility,” explains the taxi driver.
“I felt like someone entering a cave; this is very dangerous and it seems that no one cares,” said a passenger, who could not help but cling to the seat while he and the driver traveled the little more than 200 meters of the underground road. The next time they have to go west of the Cuban capital, it is unlikely that they will choose to immerse themselves in a passageway that could be a scene in a film about a trip to hell.
At night the situation is even worse, because although the pale interior lights are a little more noticeable, they are so immersed in the shadows that it is even difficult to distinguish the lanes. If, on top of this, there is a power cut in the area, then the risks multiply and you have to rely on the headlights, keep your hands firmly on the wheel and appeal to luck so as not to collide with anything or come across some other surprise on the way.
Lately only bad news emerges from the central tunnel. Last February, several Internet users complained about the water that fell on windshields, blocking the vision of drivers. Those complaints came just a few months after the road was closed to carry out repair work that included painting the side walls at both entrances with an intense blue color that can’t be seen in the dark.
Havana, the city that in the 50s was at the forefront of urban and architectural innovations in Latin America, was left with only three tunnels to channel traffic. Two of them pass under the Almendares, now turned into a pestilent and reduced river, while the third and more impressive is immersed in the waters of the bay. The one that connects Línea Street with Miramar is the oldest, and the amazement it caused after its inauguration was even reflected in a catchy song.
It was the well-known musician Enrique Jorrín who composed the theme that later became popular with the Orquesta América. Then, that engineering work was attractive because of its modernity and the romantic atmosphere felt when crossing it. On the stage and phonographs you could hear: “All the people in Havana who like to drive / when they go out / they want to cross the tunnel … And now the little ones say / when they see the car: let’s go to the tunnel, my darling, / let’s go to the tunnel, my love.”
However, fear has never been a good ally of flirting, so now everyone is in a hurry and holds their breath when they cross through the tunnel. No one sees, among so much darkness, an opportunity to fall in love or curl up. Rather, muscles twitch, eyebrows furrow and a chill runs up the neck until they reach the other side. Only then a sigh of relief runs through the inside of the vehicle. The dangerous tunnel has been left behind.
Translated by Regina Anavy for Translating Cuba.