There's nowhere quite like Havana at 5 o'clock. As the worst of the afternoon heat lifts, the city drifts toward the Malecón — the long sea wall where couples, fishermen, musicians and rum-drinkers gather to watch the waves break against the stone and the light soften over the water.

This is a city that gave the world some of its greatest cocktails. The mojito, the daiquiri, the Cuba libre — all born here, all built for the tropics. Hemingway did his drinking between La Bodeguita del Medio and El Floridita, and the ritual hasn't changed much: mint, lime, rum, ice, and the sound of live son spilling out of a doorway.

Vintage cars rumble past, the sun goes down over the strait, and Havana proves the point better than anywhere — somewhere in the world, it's always five o'clock, and someone is always pouring.