By day, gray-haired Americans trundle through the streets of Havana in pink 1957 Chevy convertibles, klaxons blaring. By night they recline over rum and cigars, tipping generously and reminiscing about the Cold War.
Many of the new American visitors to Cuba, whose numbers have surged since a diplomatic detente in December, are old enough to remember life before the Internet and relish a few days in one of the world's last Facebook-unfriendly bastions.
What tourists find quaint seems stifling to many Cubans themselves.
For a lucky minority, life has improved since President Obama and his Cuban counterpart, Raúl Castro, announced last Dec. 17 that they would seek to end five decades of hostility.
Obama's decision to relax some restrictions on American visitors is expected to push tourism to Cuba up by 17 percent this year, bolstering foreign exchange by around $500 million, or 1 percent of GDP, estimates Emily Morris, an economist at the Inter-American Development Bank.
Visitors spend CUCs, Cuba's dollar-equivalent hard currency, at a few swanky private restaurants where the quality and prices have reached fashionable Florida standards. (The Minnesota Orchestra last week became the first American orchestra to visit Cuba since the Dec. 17 announcement.)
Cubans are borrowing whatever they can to spruce up accommodation in a city where hotels are now booked up weeks in advance. According to Omar Everleny, a Cuban economist, 18,000 private rooms have become available. That is the equivalent of 31 new hotels the size of the 25-story Habana Libre.
This activity is expected to boost economic growth from last year's meager 1.3 percent. But there is little sign as yet of the $2.5 billion a year in investment that the government hoped to woo with a new foreign-investment law last year, mostly because it sends mixed signals.