Tropicana Nights: The Life and Times of the Legendary Cuban Nightclub

by Rosa Lowinger

In Cuban argot, the comments that men deliver to women on the street are known as piropos. Piropos are not lewd and aggressive. They are usually uttered softly, unlike a catcall. The classic piropo is affectionate, expressing joy at what the Cuban man considers God’s greatest creation. Sexist? Absolutely. But when you walk down the streets of Havana and someone murmurs, “Mami, me estás matando (Baby, you’re killing me)”; “Voy a soñar con esos ojos (I’m going to dream of those eyes)”; or the most famous piropo of all, “Si cocinas como caminas, me como hasta la raspa (If you cook the way you walk, I’ll eat even what sticks to the pan),” it is hard not to feel your step grow a little lighter. It’s a good idea to keep going, but you might find yourself tossing a smile over your shoulder, moving a little slower, with more subtle bounce and rhythm. Right there, on the streets of Havana, you become a Tropicana modelo, strutting for an appreciative public, showing off what you have to offer.