The Cuban Money Crisis (BusinessWeek)

Havana’s Vedado neighborhood in March 2015.

The currency crisis starts about 75 feet into Cuba. I land in the late afternoon and, after clearing customs, step into the busy arrivals hall of Havana’s airport looking for help. I ask a woman in a gray, military-like uniform where I can change money. “Follow me,” she says.

But she doesn’t turn left, toward the airport’s exchange kiosk. Called cadecas, these government-run currency shops are the only legal way, along with banks, to swap your foreign money for Cuba’s tourist tender, the CUC. Instead, my guide turns right and only comes clean when we reach a quiet area at the top of an escalator. “The official rate is 87 for a hundred,” she whispers, meaning CUCs to dollars. “I’m giving you 90. So it’s a good deal for you.”

I want to convert $500, and she doesn’t blink an eye. “Go in the men’s room and count your money out,” she instructs. “I’ll do the same in the ladies room.”

The bathroom is crowded, with not one but two staff and the usual traffic of an airport in the evening. There’s no toilet paper. In an unlit stall I try counting to 25 while laying $20 bills on my knees. There’s an urgent knock, and under the door I see high heels. “I’m still counting,” I say.

She’s back two minutes later and pushes her way into my stall. We trade stacks, count, and the tryst is over. For my $500, I get 450 CUCs, the currency that’s been required for the purchase of almost anything important in Cuba since 1994. CUCs aren’t paid to Cubans; islanders receive their wages in a different currency, the grubby national peso that features Che Guevara’s face, among others, but is worth just 1/25th as much as a CUC. Issued in shades of citrus and berry, the CUC—dollarized, tourist-friendly money—has for 21 years been the key to a better life in Cuba, as well as a stinging reminder of the difference between the haves and the have-nots. But that’s about to change: Cuba is going to kill the CUC. Described as a matter of fairness by President Raúl Castro, the end of the two-currency system is also the key to overhauling the uniquely incompetent and centrally planned chaos machine that is the Cuban economy.

Photographs by Sebastián Liste for Bloomberg Businessweek

Lining up to exchange ­currencies in Old Havana.

Even in Cuba there are markets, and the effects of Castro’s October announcement of a five-step plan for phasing out the CUC are already rippling out to every wallet in the country. The government has issued notifications and price conversion charts, and introduced new, larger bills to supplement the low-value national peso. Over the next year, the CUC will be invalidated—what Cuban economists call Day Zero—and then, in steps four and five, the regular Cuban peso will become exchangeable and be floated against a basket of five currencies: the yuan, the euro, the U.S. dollar, and two others to be named later.

Thanks to the expected normalization of relations with the U.S., tourism, already the engine of Cuba’s current economic boom, is expected to grow enormously—though by this time next year foreigners will be required to negotiate their visits with mounds of regular pesos. Raúl Castro is effectively gambling that he can release some control over the economy in exchange for growth, ensuring the regime’s survival.

The reality, however, may be anything but orderly. During my visit, I witness the hoarding of dollars, an unstable black market, and a deep distrust of the government’s financial speculations. Get out of CUCs, the rumors urge, and into dollars. For a 3 percent spread, a woman will even follow you into a bathroom stall.