Release Date: January 2021
Number of Cigars Smoked For Review: 3
Given the extensive design work that Padilla has put into his previous releases, I’m almost more intrigued by the bands on the Padilla 88 Anniversario than the cigar, at least from a visual perspective. The band is a bit subdued but still clean and classy, and you might want to have your reading glasses or a magnifying glass to see the incredibly small details in the band. The cigar is rolled and pressed quite nicely, albeit a bit firmer than the average box press which tends to feel like a very firm pillow. The wrapper has a very evenly colored, nutty brown wrapper with the occasional hue that reminds me of a light-colored chocolate. What veins the wrapper does have are small and unobtrusive, while the seams generally lie flat and are only slightly visible. The foot offers an aroma that has me first thinking of a freshly opened bag of brown sugar, though it’s not overly sweet. It also gets quickly pushed out of
Pardo Llada y Olga Guillot
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Qué es el Movimiento San Isidro, la protesta cultural que inquieta al gobierno cubano
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Balconies in a house in front of the Capitolio. Havana (La Habana), Cuba
“Whew! Did you see that?” We’re driving to Havana and Debbie, my wife, is speaking. I’m sitting in the front seat of our taxi with Luis, the driver, who has just been explaining to me how Raul Castro’s daughter Mariela is in favour of “homofobia.” I endeavour to correct him: “Don’t you mean she’s against homophobia?” but he, bent on re-educating an unenlightened foreigner, insists “no, in favour of.” Luis, who has the conversational tic of poking me whenever he wants to make a point, is pro-Fidel (“he wants to help the poor”), but “homofobia” is a long word and, for a generation raised on Marxist polysyllables, easy enough to confuse with its antonym. “In favour of homophobia.” Fist in my thigh, and his eyes meet mine, as he scrutinizes my face for moral outrage. The highway is empty in the four-hour drive from Trinidad, we can’t have seen more than ten vehicles. But now
Balconies in a house in front of the Capitolio. Havana (La Habana), Cuba
“Whew! Did you see that?” We’re driving to Havana and Debbie, my wife, is speaking. I’m sitting in the front seat of our taxi with Luis, the driver, who has just been explaining to me how Raul Castro’s daughter Mariela is in favour of “homofobia.” I endeavour to correct him: “Don’t you mean she’s against homophobia?” but he, bent on re-educating an unenlightened foreigner, insists “no, in favour of.” Luis, who has the conversational tic of poking me whenever he wants to make a point, is pro-Fidel (“he wants to help the poor”), but “homofobia” is a long word and, for a generation raised on Marxist polysyllables, easy enough to confuse with its antonym. “In favour of homophobia.” Fist in my thigh, and his eyes meet mine, as he scrutinizes my face for moral outrage. The highway is empty in the four-hour drive from Trinidad, we can’t have seen more than ten vehicles. But now