Seeing Havana for the first time is like peeling back the layers of an onion, and the longer you spend there the greater the number of layers you discover. It has a complexity that is baffling and a vibrancy that will never disappoint. I’ve never met anyone who has had a neutral reaction to Cuba – all colour, noise, and brightly dressed figures of every imaginable shade, shape and size. The people in Havana don’t do anything by halves. When they dance, they make it a shimmering salsa, and when they sing, they croon and serenade to Latin beats in a way that leaves you wanting to party late into the night.

Which is, of course, what many of the Cubans do. It’s the only location in the world where communism collides with rum, salsa and sun. You find yourself drowning in new sensations from the minute you hit the air bridge in the slightly chaotic airport. Once into the city, you’re not sure if you’ve entered another dimension. It’s almost a parallel universe, where different eras continue to exist alongside each other. The locals pile into 1950’s American cars, some into Soviet Ladas from the 70’s, while the tourists manoeuvre the streets in brand new Peugeots from Avis. Like it or not, people talk to you in the street in Cuba, so you’re obliged to interact from the start.

Old Havana (Havana Vieja) has had money ploughed into its renovation in the past 5 years and much of the previously crumbling and derelict Spanish colonial architecture has been restored to its former glory. A UNESCO world heritage site, the washed out blues and greens of patios and doorways contrast with the perfectly white church buildings. In Plaza de Armas - a 17th-century market square shaded by equally old tree - second hand book markets stock a medley of classic literature and communist manifestoes.

On the other side of the main park is Central Havana, where you’ll get a glimpse of the uncensored character of the city. Buildings are still worn and crumbling, and the occasional balcony is prone to collapse. Visiting this part will give you a more unofficial view of Cuba – one that you won’t get on a guided tour. As in Havana Vieja, there is a policeman on every corner, but these are there more to watch what’s going on in the homes than to marshal what’s happening between tourists and locals. On the other side of town in the Plaza de la Revolucion, 1960s Russian architecture is in stark contrast to the colonial grandeur. Every year on May 1st hundreds of thousands pile in to this square for the workers’ day parade – essentially an ode to Fidel.

Havana is not a dangerous city to visit and what it has to offer far outweighs the challenges it can pose. But the charms of its inhabitants, which can be considerable, have to be taken with a healthy pinch of salt. In a country where the majority earns the equivalent of 20 euro a month, it’s not surprising that there are a few who will try to make a fast buck from a tourist. The Cubans have a saying – for health and education we gave breakfast, lunch and dinner - so while the world may wax lyrical about free health for all, the people themselves would add a few qualifiers on the topic.

It’s not just a cliche when they say that in Cuba music is everywhere. Whether it’s salsa bands in tiny bars or rumba beats emanating from oversized ghetto blasters it spills out into the street. The salsa is seductive, a hip gyrating dance included in the genetic make up of every Cuban. But when the salsa gets too heady there is always jazz to turn to. More nostalgia is on offer in the form of still-smoky piano bars oozing with atmosphere, where along with the cocktails you can hear some of Cuba’s best musicians. They croon from the corners of dark and sultry spots. There’s also some good Cuban flamenco to be found around the city.

No one should expect to write home about the food in Havana – it’s mostly an accompaniment to the music rather than the main event. There’s a necessary fascination with red beans and rice, but there’s also some good seafood in the hotel restaurants. In an ebullient but near-decrepit city, a 5 star hotel can be a valuable hideout, and I occasionally spent an afternoon tucked away in the Hotel Nacional with a mojito in hand. It’s perched on a plateau to one end of the Malecon - a seaside boulevard that stretches almost the entire length of the city. I couldn’t imagine Havana without thinking of this monolithic art deco building – tantamount to picturing modern communism without Castro. In the 1930s the wealthy and adventurous were drawn like flies to what was, in times of pre-revolution, the most luxurious of the city’s hotels. And after more than five decades of revolutionary zeal it hasn’t lost its attraction.

The bustle of Havana can overwhelm the most hardy of travellers - but then there’s also the wonderful Caribbean Sea to run to. Stretches of often-deserted golden sands lie just to the east; the water is never colder than a warm bath and always crystal clear. In an economy where waiters earn more than doctors at the end of each month, it’s not unusual to find an enterprising medic, replete with plinth, offering heavenly massage on the beach.