Canadian Travel to Cuba in the 1980s: The Other Side

Part 1: Santiago vs Varadero

The late 1980s were a hopeful kind of decade — at least for me. I was young, curious, falling for someone new, and just beginning to peek beyond the borders of my home country. I’d traveled to the U.K. for work, spent a week in the Dominican Republic, and somewhere in all that early wanderlust, I decided Cuba would be next. Back then, Canadian travel to Cuba was almost a rite of passage — affordable, accessible, and full of stories waiting to happen.

At the time, living in Canada came with a perk that felt borderline rebellious: we could travel to Cuba freely. Americans couldn’t — not with the U.S. embargo still in full force — which is why so many people today still search “why can’t Americans go to Cuba.” In the late 80s, the answer was simple: politics. Meanwhile, Canadians had the rare privilege of experiencing a place that felt exotic, slightly forbidden, and completely within reach of a twenty-something budget.

Cuba had spent the decades after the 1959 Revolution rebuilding under a state-run economy, and by the 1980s it was slowly opening its doors to foreign visitors. Europeans and Canadians became Cuba’s most loyal guests, bringing in the hard currency the island needed. Tourism wasn’t as polished as it is today, but for travelers like me, that was half the appeal — it felt like seeing a country before the rest of the world arrived.

I also wanted a different kind of experience, so instead of booking the better-known places to visit in Cuba like the postcard beaches of Varadero, I chose the opposite side of the island: the quieter, lesser-traveled southeast near Santiago de Cuba. At the time, I didn’t know anything about the Cuba climate in that region or that it had a wilder, more rugged coastline. I just knew I wanted an experience that felt less packaged.

What Canadian Travel to Cuba Really Looked Like in the Late 80s

Even the approach into Santiago felt different. The plane stayed high longer than expected, then dropped into a steep, stomach-floating descent toward the runway. We joked that it was because Castro didn’t want anyone taking photos from the air, but in reality, Santiago’s airport is wedged between mountains and sea, forcing one of the most dramatic landings in Cuba.

The moment we stepped outside, the air wrapped around us — thick, warm, tropical heat that felt nothing like home. Eastern Cuba runs hotter and more humid than Havana or Varadero, with a dry season that leaves the hills dusty and the coastline sun-bleached. I didn’t need a guidebook to understand Cuba’s climate; the heat said it all.

In 1989, you didn’t arrive in Cuba armed with Google reviews or “Cuba travel tips” videos. You just showed up, curious and wide open, and let the island reveal whatever it wanted to you. I didn’t know it yet, but choosing the southeast — the other side of Cuba — would shape every moment that followed.

What This Post Covers

• Why Cuba felt wildly different to visit in the late 80s
• What tourism looked like during the embargo era
• A snapshot of the cultural and political backdrop that shaped the experience
• The moment I realized travel would change my life

A Little Context: Canadian Travel to Cuba in the 1980s

If you’re younger than Gen X, this part may surprise you.

After the 1959 Revolution, Cuba nationalized major industries, aligned with the Soviet Union, and entered decades of strained relations with the U.S. When the American embargo tightened, the island depended heavily on trade with the USSR. By the 1980s, Cuba was stable enough to begin experimenting with international tourism, though the country still faced significant shortages.

This meant:

• Canadian tourism flourished, because Canadians were allowed to travel freely.
• Tourism was slowly becoming an economic lifeline, especially in resort areas.
• Even the best resorts struggled with supplies, from towels to fuel to imported food.
• Foreign currency was king, particularly U.S. dollars, even though using them was technically forbidden.

Understanding that context helps make sense of what happened next — the surprises, the limitations, and the moments that shaped how I see travel today.

Coming Up Next: The Resort That Wasn’t What We Expected

Part 2 will pick up with my arrival at the resort, the rocky “beach,” the moped Hunger Games at sunrise, and the moment a single suggestion from another guest changed everything I thought I was going to do in Cuba.

Read the Cuba 1989 Travel Series

A five-part memoir of a trip that changed everything.

Part 1 — Arriving in Cuba: The Other Side of the Island
Part 2 — The Resort That Wasn’t What We Expected
Part 3 — The Moped Adventure Through Baconao
Part 4 — The Giant Rock & the Moment Cuba Opened My Eyes
Part 5 — New Year’s Eve in Santiago & Cayo Granma