CAFÉ LA HABANA, MEXICO CITY

You've come here hungry for stories. And breakfast.

There's something about the caffeine, strong,

chocolate-black, you reckon that thickens the plot.

Six and a half decades have flowed between you waiting

for cafe americano and molettes and those young men

sitting at one of these very tables plotting to carry out

a revolution in a tiny sun-blistered island. Sixty-four

years is a long time you'd think, but at Habana,

time is well pickled and served with every meal.

The decor hasn't changed since those nicotine-caffeine

obsessed men confabulated here. Your anachronistic heart

is at home looking at large-frame b/w photographs on the

walls. Nonstop smoking isn't your thing and you're not

here to scheme driving out trespassers.

But you do have something in common with those men who

overcame hesitant nights to return with resolute enthusiasm

in the morning. For coffee gulps, cigarette swigs and plot twists.

Their organization, their woolgathering conviction in a  

dream republic, their mad streak -- these aren't yours.

But like them, you believe in treating time luxuriously.

Spending it like you were in charge, not the clock.

In Café La Habana, this is never a problem.

Legend has it that Fidel Castro and Che Guevarra met at Café La Habana in Mexico City 

several times, chain smoking and drinking strong coffee, to plan the Cuban Revolution.