For most of the past twenty years, the answer to this question was settled enough to be dull. Sleep in Habana Vieja if you want the plazas outside your door, in Vedado if you would rather feel like a resident than a visitor, and accept that Cuban hotels charge four-star money for three-star plumbing. Very little of that advice survives 2026 intact.
In the first half of this year the international operators left the island, one after another. Melia Hotels International, present in Cuba for thirty-six years, ended management of its Cuban portfolio in late July; Iberostar gave up around a dozen properties tied to the military-run conglomerate GAESA; the Canadian group Blue Diamond and Indonesia's Archipelago International withdrew as well, and Minor had already stepped back from the NH-branded tower in Vedado earlier in the year. Cuban and industry reporting through 2026 has put national hotel occupancy at roughly ten to thirteen per cent. Official figures showed about 329,000 international visitors in the first four months of the year, down by more than half against the same period a year earlier. Layered over all of it is an electricity grid that has been failing in long, unpredictable blocks since late 2024.
The practical consequence for someone planning a trip is that the name over the door now tells you very little. Three other things tell you a great deal: which neighbourhood you sleep in, how big the building is, and whether your bed has back-up power behind it. Get those right and Havana is, at the time of writing, emptier and cheaper than it has been in two decades, which is a real argument for going rather than against it.
Ask about the generator before you ask about the view
This is the question that has quietly become more important than the star rating, and almost nobody puts it in an enquiry email.
Cuba's power cuts are not brief. Outside Havana they routinely run for the better part of a day; the capital is treated more gently than the provinces but still loses power in long blocks, and the pattern shifts week to week. Larger hotels generally hold diesel generators, but generators need fuel, and fuel is precisely what the country is short of. Smaller properties often run an inverter instead: a battery bank that will keep fans, lights, the router and your phone charger alive through an outage, though not air conditioning.
What this does to a room is not obvious until it happens to you. Water in most Havana buildings is pumped up to a roof tank by an electric pump, so a long outage eventually becomes a dry shower on the upper floors. Lifts stop, which turns a bargain on the eighteenth floor of a tower into eighteen flights of stairs in August. Air conditioning stops, which matters enormously in a sealed modern room and much less in a high-ceilinged old one with shutters and a cross-breeze.
So before you book anything, message the host or the hotel directly and ask, in writing: is there a generator or an inverter, roughly how many hours will it hold, does the water keep running during a cut, and is there a fan in the room as well as air conditioning. A private house with two batteries and a ceiling fan is a more reliable place to sleep this year than a twenty-five-storey tower without them. Bring a power bank and a head torch regardless; both are close to essential and neither is easy to buy once you land.