HAVANA—It was only a 45-minute plane ride from Miami, but my first trip to Cuba was in many ways a trip into history. When Christopher Columbus sailed across the Atlantic Ocean in the late 15th Century, claiming to discover people in places where they were already living, he stopped here. Many slave traders also stopped in the Caribbean before heading to North America.

In many ways, my chartered flight to Cuba with a group of African-American journalists, just a week after former President Jimmy Carter had visited the island, was a reverse commute. Unlike the slaves who were traveling to Cuba against their will, I was a willing participant, determined not to be chained by either by combative statements of the United States government officials or the flowery propaganda of Cuban leaders.

One of the first things one notices after landing at Jose¢ Marti Airport is that there are few images of Fidel Castro, the larger-than-life leader of the revolution that put him in power 43 years ago. Instead, there are tributes to Marti, Cuba’s national hero; Che Guevara and other fallen leaders of the revolution. Because Cubans tend to limit their homage to the dead, it will be only after Castro dies that his image will be visible everywhere.

For now, Cubans will have to settle for Revolution Plaza, the various memorials, and the statues of soldiers mounted on horses. A horse rearing on two legs symbolizes that the hero was killed in battle. If the horse is on all four, the soldier died off the battlefield. If the statue is facing water, the warrior was a non-Cuban; fallen citizens face inward, toward the people.

And there are plenty of people. There are more than 11 million Cubans populating an area slightly smaller than the state of Pennsylvania. About 2 million are crammed in the capital city of Havana. They walk everywhere or take one of the overcrowded buses. Some of the larger buses have roofs that dip in the middle and are referred to by locals as “the camel.”

The few lucky ones have a car, most likely an American car made in the 1950s, or the smaller, uglier Soviet-made vehicles. On any day, Havana could be mistaken as a dealership for classic automobiles. As in many European cities, many of the taxis are Mercedes and the rides are even more inexpensive than Washington, D.C.’s zoned fares.

But most of the locals, who earn the equivalent of less than $30 a month, cannot afford a taxi ride. For the most part, they reside in deteriorating apartments that haven’t been painted in years. Sure, the skyline is dotted with sparkling new high-rises but they are for affluent foreigners who work and live here. And non-natives who don’t live in apartments, have opulent houses that reek of excess.

By contrast, a ride through downtown Havana would be a preservationist’s worst nightmare. What once clearly were gorgeous, stately buildings are barely standing today, victims of gross neglect and numerous wars to subjugate the island’s people. A visitor looking at the first few floors of an old building is easily convinced that it has been condemned. If one keeps looking up, however, it won’t be long before signs of life suddenly appear, usually people looking over a balcony or, more frequently, freshly-washed clothes flapping in the wind.

The people in these old buildings are paid in Cuban pesos, which take a back seat to U.S. dollars. In fact, Cubans take a back seat to tourists in what I call a dollartocracy. Throughout the island, the dollar is king.

The best-paying jobs are not as a physician in Cuba’s free medical system—many doctors earn no more than $30 a month and live in old, one-room apartments—but Cubans who work in tourist-related businesses. The doormen, maids, taxi drivers and waiters all thrive off of tips. In an economy that lost $4 billion to $6 billion a year with the collapse of the Soviet Union, once Cuba’s strongest and most powerful ally, there are no better jobs for the average citizen.

It is clear that the American embargo—Cuban officials call it a blockade—has been harmful. Instead of buying goods from the United States, Cuba has to import them from elsewhere—Spain, Venezuela and Canada—at much higher prices, if they can get them at all.

African-Americans visiting Cuba are forced to look at race in a different context. More than two-thirds of Cubans are of African descent, classified as either Black or mulatto. And the official tact here is to minimize the issue of discrimination against Afro-Cubans and instead declare that, “We are all Cubans.”

Yes, the races seem to mix far more easily here than in the United States. But even Fidel Castro has acknowledged that his prized revolution has not removed all vestiges of racism brought on by years of Spanish colonization and U.S. domination. Like the U.S., contradictions abound. Most of the high-paying jobs in the tourism industry of held by Whites or light-skinned Cubans. Yet, the president of Cuba’s Supreme Court, Ruben Remigio, is dark-skinned.

Whether dark or light, Cubans love to talk. And talk. And talk. The phrase “speaking volumes” must have been invented here. The chance of getting a short answer from a Cuban official is about the same as a person getting struck by lightening. In fact, the odds of getting hit by lightening might be greater.

Cuba’s news media is state-controlled. Consequently, Cubans read and hear only the official party line and dissent is not cherished in this highly regimented society. But in one respect, communist officials in Cuba are no different from democratic politicians back home—they all want to influence, if not determine, what journalists write.

As top Cuban officials attempted minimize the problem of race, blame the United States for most of Cuba’s problems and endlessly tout the success of the Castro-led 1959 revolution, it felt as if they were trying to manipulate me. It reminded me of the days I covered the White House for the ''Chicago Tribune'' in the late 1980s.

Some things don’t change regardless of the political system.