Dear Marcos,
In 2017, Tommy, then eight, and I entered the Cuban Boxing Academy in London. Eight years on, at sixteen, he’s grown into a passionate boxer, and I’m still buzzing from the extraordinary adventure you orchestrated for us in Havana in April 2025. Words can’t fully capture the magic, but let me share our joy and heartfelt thanks.
Havana welcomed us with open arms. Your friend whisked us from the airport in a gleaming classic car, its engine purring as we cruised through vibrant streets. Old Havana dazzled like a living postcard: pastel buildings with wrought-iron balconies, their weathered paint telling tales of history. Salsa spilt from open windows, the Malecón’s salty breeze carried laughter and clinking mojito glasses, and vintage cars in every shade rolled by. Street vendors hawked tamales, kids kicked balls in sunlit courtyards—every corner pulsed with life, like a film come to life.
Your flat in the heart of Old Havana was a gem—spacious, calm, and brimming with charm, its tiled floors and shuttered windows framing the lively streets below. Your neighbour Lauda greeted us with a beaming smile and a steaming plate of ropa vieja, instantly making us feel at home. When words failed us, Yuri, another neighbour, bridged the gap with her flawless English. Every meal at Lauda’s was a feast, and her stories of Havana were as delicious as her flan. Tommy still talks about her arroz con pollo with a wistful grin.
The Rafael Trejo Gym was the heartbeat of our trip. Walking through its worn gates felt like stepping onto hallowed ground. The open-air ring, framed by crumbling walls and swaying palms, thrummed with energy—coaches barking orders, gloves thwacking pads, feet dancing in sync. We trained twice daily under the scorching Cuban sun for two weeks, guided by Alberto and his team, whose expertise and fire lit us up. Tommy soaked up every jab, feint, and life lesson, his confidence soaring. I’ll never forget him sparring as locals cheered, the gym’s tin roof glowing gold. It was intense, thrilling, and unforgettable—an authentic taste of Cuban boxing’s soul.
Havana’s wonders filled our days. Mornings started with café con leche in a nearby plaza, the air rich with cigar smoke and chatter. We wandered past the grand Capitolio, its dome gleaming, or roamed the vibrant stalls of Mercado San José, bursting with art and treasures. Evenings saw us strolling the Malecón, waves crashing as lovers and fishermen shared the sunset. One night, we stumbled on a rumba jam in a tucked-away courtyard, drums pounding as dancers moved with breathtaking grace. Tommy’s wide-eyed awe mirrored mine—we were hooked.
Marcos, you made a daring dream a reality beyond our wildest hopes. You wove us into Havana's vibrant tapestry by sharing your flat and introducing us to incredible people. This was more than a boxing trip; it was a cultural dive, a father-son bond forged in sweat and laughter, and a love affair with a city that stole our hearts. We returned to London with sharper skills, countless stories, and memories to treasure forever.
To anyone considering this journey, leap in with an open heart, and Havana will embrace you. Marcos, from Tommy and me, a massive thank you—you’re an absolute legend, mate.
With deepest gratitude,
Tommy Kennedy IV