The habanera and the murmur of a round trip

Night falls slowly over the horizon. The sea breathes with that calm that only peoples accustomed to living before the maritime immensity know. At the water's edge, conversations quiet down as a guitar begins to strum the first chords, full of memories and longing. Someone hums a familiar melody. Voices join in almost without realizing it. For a few moments, time seems to slow down under the weight of each verse.The murmur of the sea accompanies the memory of people who crossed the Atlantic pursuing a better life. It is also the nostalgia of those who left their land behind and of those who, after many years, returned home carrying within them another light and another way of understanding the world. From this shared memory is born what we know today as havanera: a musical genre that has ended up uniting two lands separated by the ocean and by time. A round-trip story written in the journeys of entire generations. When the horizon led to America

During the 18th and 19th centuries, Cuba became one of the main destinations for Catalan emigration. Many young people set sail for the Caribbean with the hope of prospering in a land that, from a distance, seemed to offer infinite opportunities. Some made their fortunes there; others simply sought to fulfill their dreams. Between sugar plantations, commercial warehouses, and ports, an intense relationship was woven between the two shores of the Atlantic.The Catalan presence on the island was so significant that commercial, family, and cultural ties ended up shaping an authentic Atlantic network. Cuba became a familiar space within the Catalan imagination, almost an exotic extension of the land itself. But that relationship would also be marked by the contradictions of the colonial system, by the wars of independence, and by the tensions of a world that was beginning to transform.That transatlantic adventure, so present in the Catalan imaginary, cannot be separated from the colonial context in which it took place. A large part of the prosperity that some "indians" achieved in Cuba was linked to an economy sustained by the structures of the empire and by the plantations that fed Atlantic trade. Havaneres do not explicitly explain this reality, but they also form part of this same historical universe. Behind the nostalgia that these melodies exude, the contradictions of a past that today invites a more complex view also resonate.For decades, ships connected the two shores with a constant flow of people and hopes. On deck, many watched the Catalan coast slowly fade on the horizon, not knowing if they would ever see it again. Some never returned. Others did years later, carrying within them the imprint of two lands.When in 1898 the Spanish empire lost its last American colonies, many Catalans undertook the journey back. Soldiers, merchants, sailors, and "indians" were returning. With them traveled memories, objects, words, and melodies. Among all these legacies was a music that had been born on the other side of the Atlantic and that would eventually find a new home on the Catalan coasts.

The nostalgic melody of the high seas

The genesis of the Habanera is, like so many things born in ports, a story of encounters. Its origin lies in the European contradanse, a dance that had traveled from England to France and from there to the Iberian Peninsula before arriving in Cuba. On the island, that rhythm re-emerged under the influence of the African, European, and Creole cultures that coexisted in 19th-century Cuban society. The result was a new musical expression, marked by a slow and elegant cadence that soon became popular in the ballrooms, streets, and Caribbean ports. It was a mestizo music, a child of migrations, exchanges, and the coexistence of diverse peoples.Curiously, what we know today as "havanera" was not called that by Cubans. The name would emerge later, when those melodies arrived in Catalonia associated with the city of Havana. Here, the songs began to be known as americanes, a term that evoked that distant and fascinating world that many only knew through the sailors' tales.Havaneres did not arrive in grand scores or luxurious theaters. They arrived, above all, through people. They were sung by fishermen after work, sailors during voyages, and the 'indians' when they evoked past years on the other side of the ocean. They also spread thanks to zarzuelas and popular sheets of cane and string, those printed pages that circulated in markets and squares carrying news, stories, and hit songs.As with all living traditions, the melodies underwent transformations. The lyrics changed, the verses adapted, and the songs were passed from mouth to mouth. Over time, that repertoire, initially sung in Spanish, became Catalanized. Havaneres ceased to be music arriving from Cuba to become an expression deeply rooted in Catalan popular culture.Perhaps the secret of their permanence lies in the stories they hold. Habaneras speak of distant ports and beloved places. Of loves waiting at the dock, of painful absences and dreamed returns. Of war, of distance, and of longing. Melodies imbued with a serene nostalgia that seems to inhabit an eternal summer. The voices of the seaside taverns

For much of the 20th century, this tradition continued to live on in taverns, ports, and popular gatherings. Habaneras were part of the daily life of many seafaring communities. Their strength lay precisely in this oral transmission, fragile and persistent at the same time, which allowed each generation to leave its mark.From the 1940s onwards, however, that popular heritage began a new journey. Some musicians and scholars, aware of the value of those tunes, dedicated themselves to collecting and preserving them. There were those who traveled through taverns and ports, noting down old songs before they were lost; others began to create new habaneras in writing, respecting their essence but adapting them to the new times.Among these compositions, La gavina stands out especially, written by Frederic Sirés in 1947. Initially born in Spanish under the title La gaviota, the piece retained the slow cadence and the characteristic nostalgia of traditional habaneras. Without intending to, that song would end up becoming a model for many of the habaneras that would come later.Also part of this legacy is one of the most beloved melodies in the repertoire: La bella Lola. Linked to the world of sailors and soldiers who lived through the final years of Spanish presence in Cuba, the song transports us to a world of long voyages, distant ports, and awaited loves.Thanks to this task of compilation and creation, habaneras progressively left the strictly marine sphere. They began to be heard on stages, festivals, and squares, and paved the way for the great renaissance the genre would experience during the second half of the 20th century. It was especially from the 1960s onwards that havaneres would experience a new boost. The recovery of popular musical heritage, the appearance of specialized groups, and the consolidation of collective singing allowed those melodies to definitively emerge from the local sphere. The Cantada d'Havaneres of Calella de Palafrugell, held since 1966 on Port Bo beach, would become the most visible symbol of this renaissance. What had begun as music from afar was definitively transforming into a tradition of its own.The crossing that still resonates

The essence of habanera preserves the echo of a world built between two shores. Its verses coexist with the journeys of thousands of people, the bonds woven between the Atlantic and the Mediterranean, and the imprint of a history that continues to resonate in Catalan culture.More than two centuries later, these melodies continue to find new voices. The generations that sing them change, but the feelings that inhabit them persist: the longing of those who leave, the waiting of those who stay, and the desire to find again what time and distance have separated.Like the persistent murmur of the waves, the sea shanties continue to navigate between memories, silences, and stories passed down from generation to generation. Perhaps that's why they still move us. After all, memory needs a voice to continue existing. Because, sometimes, when memories fade, only a song knows how to find the way back.