The Cuban architect Ileana Pérez Drago, an expert in colonial restoration with six or seven years of work on projects related to the Office of the Historian of the City of Havana, presents a thesis that reverses the logic of deterioration: the owners of ruins in Old Havana and Centro Habana hold a strategic asset in light of the Cuban transition, precisely because their properties are situated in locations that will be highly sought after by investors in the future.
"All these people who live in Centro Habana and Habana Vieja, many of whom own houses that have little value in themselves. Yet, they have locational value, which is very attractive to investors," states Pérez Drago, who has lived in Madrid, Panama, and Miami, and knows the built environment of Havana from the inside.
The architect details the negotiation mechanism that she believes will occur. According to her explanation in an interview with CiberCuba, investors will need to reach agreements with current residents, offering them temporary rental options, housing in another neighborhood, or the restoration of a unit in a new building that will be constructed. "Their barbecue falling apart, their bathroom with no floor. All that misery can be negotiated with the investors," she points out.
This possibility for negotiation, he emphasizes, exists because location is paramount. "Those neighbors have the advantage of having a property in a privileged position for the future. Old Havana and Central Havana are going to be fantastic locations."
The scenario described by Pérez Drago is not limited to large capitals. "There will be opportunities for big investors, small and medium-sized enterprises, and freelancers as well. In other words, it will be a country of opportunity," he says, although he warns that this opening will bring the need to regulate financial flows, migration, and cultural integration.
Regarding the role of the State in this process, the architect is clear: "The future government will have to negotiate with investors so that they not only build what they want for themselves, but also ensure that there is a percentage of social housing."
Pérez Drago also introduces a distinction that contradicts the popular image of the neighborhood: over 60% of the buildings in Old Havana date from the 20th century, not colonial, due to historical demolitions. Colonial buildings, with their very thick walls, are structurally stable; what is mostly lost are the wooden mezzanines. Several have already been restored in previous decades, although almost always for hotels and institutions, not for residential purposes.
The reason, he explains, is economic: "It's much easier to create a museum-worthy installation or a cultural project that requires far fewer resources than to build the homes and apartments that people actually need."
The backdrop of these reflections is a housing crisis that is worsening steadily. Cuba officially registers a deficit of over 805,000 homes, with independent estimates raising this figure to 929,000 by 2026. In Havana, there are approximately 1,000 collapses annually, with recurring fatalities.
Two people died in Old Havana in November 2025, and a young woman was found dead in February 2026 in a collapsing building on Sol Street. In January of this year, two collapses within less than 24 hours shook the same neighborhood. In 2025, only 22% of the annual housing construction plan was completed: 2,382 of the 10,795 planned units.
For the reconstruction, Pérez Drago relies on existing institutions: "Cuba is a country with many institutions. There is Physical Planning, there is the Master Plan for Old Havana, which has been in operation for years, and they have all the data, and the people are trained and know the area."
Habana Vieja, designated a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1982, will, in his opinion, hold particularly high value in the post-transition scenario, turning each ruin into a bargaining chip for those who currently inhabit it.
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