Walking along the gritty, darkening streets of Havana, I felt a sense of foreboding wash over me. A few paces ahead was a stranger. Jorge, he called himself, a young street hustler I had just met at a taxi stand outside the Hotel Capri. Jorge was dressed decidedly urban: an oversize San Diego Padres jersey, baggy denim shorts and Adidas shell-toe sneakers. Jorge was also charming, and through broken English he had enticed me from the touristy environs of downtown into what was eerily morphing into a barren, crumbling neighborhood of sagging rowhouses. The object of seduction: a box of Habanos, or hand-rolled cigars.

走在哈瓦那布满砂砾的昏暗街道上，我被一种不祥的预感包围着。前面带路的是个陌生人。他自称豪尔赫(Jorge)，一个街头小混混，是我刚才在卡普里酒店(Hotel Capri)外的出租汽车站遇到的。豪尔赫显然一副城里人打扮：宽松的San Diego Padres运动衫、肥大的牛仔短裤、阿迪达斯贝壳头运动鞋。他也算是个有魅力的人，凭着一口蹩脚的英语，就把我从市中心的游客聚集地怂恿到了一个荒凉破败、处处是塌陷排屋的居住区。他的诱饵，是一盒“哈伯纳斯”(Habanos)，或者说手卷雪茄。

It was my first night in Havana, a trip prompted by thawing relations between the United States and Cuba. A few months before, in late December, President Obama had ordered the restoration of full diplomatic relations, setting in motion plans to open an embassy in Havana for the first time in more than a half-century.

那是我在哈瓦那的第一晚。美古关系解冻促成了我这次古巴之旅。数月前，也就是去年12月，奥巴马总统宣布将与古巴全面恢复外交关系。时隔半个多世纪，美国启动了在哈瓦那重开美国大使馆的计划。

As nightfall quickened, my sense of vulnerability was heightened by the clop-clop of my sandals on the cobblestone streets. It seemed too late to start chastising myself for being a American tourist dumb enough to be coaxed into the night for a few stogies. Ahead of me, Jorge, looking more sinister by the second, waved me on. Moving deeper into the Havana ’hood, I was, it seemed, at God’s mercy now — in a country noted, incidentally, for its dearth of churches and religion (despite the island’s warm reception of Pope Francis recently).

随着夜幕降临，拖鞋在鹅卵石路上发出的“哒哒”声让我更加不安。这时候才开始自责似乎太晚了，我真是个无知的美国游客，蠢到为几支雪茄就被骗到了这个黑咕隆咚的地方。这一刻，走在前面的豪尔赫也显得更邪恶了。他招呼我跟上去。缓缓走进哈瓦那深处，我似乎得到了上帝的垂怜——顺带提一下，这可是一个出了名的没什么教堂和宗教的国家（尽管古巴最近热情地接待了教皇方济各[Pope Francis]）。

Soon we reached a dilapidated brick building in the central neighborhood of Vedado. “Here, my friend!” Jorge said. “Good price here on Montecristo, and Cohiba, too!”

很快我们就到了维达多区(Vedado)中心区一栋残破的砖楼下面。“就是这儿了，我的朋友！”豪尔赫说。“这儿的蒙特克里斯托(Montecristo)价格便宜，高斯巴(Cohiba)也不错！”

Jorge rang a doorbell. A window two flights up opened, and keys dropped to the ground. He led me up a dim stairwell to an open apartment door, where we were greeted by a shirtless guy and an elderly woman who spirited me into a back room. And there it was on a wooden table, its lid majestically open: a box of Cuban Montecristo No. 2s.

豪尔赫按下了门铃。二楼的一扇窗子打开，扔下来一串钥匙。他带我走上昏暗的楼梯，来到一间开着门的公寓前。一个裸着上身的男人接待了我们，随后一个年长的女人热情地引我去了里屋。有个盒子摆在木桌上，盖子庄严地敞开着：那是一盒古巴的蒙特克里斯托（简称“蒙特”）2号。

For the uninitiated, let me shed light on this treasure trove. Celebrated for its complex blend of creamy and spicy aromas, the Montecristo No. 2 is arguably the Cadillac of Cuban cigars; highly prized among aficionados and a rare find for the likes of me or any other occasional cigar-smoking American.

可能有些人不太懂行，所以我先介绍一下这个宝贝。蒙特2号被公认为“古巴雪茄中的凯迪拉克”，它混合了奶油和辛辣的香气，气味复杂且富有层次。它被雪茄爱好者奉为至宝，对于像我这样的人或其他偶尔抽雪茄的美国人来说，更是难得一见。

I stepped over to admire the 25 torpedo-shaped beauties, light brown in hue and just over six inches long, each adorned with a chocolate-brown band emblazoned with a white sword insignia. Montecristo No. 2, the name inspired by the Alexandre Dumas novel, had long been among my favorites, rare enough that I couldn’t remember the last time I smoked one.

我走上前，观赏着这25支鱼雷形状的宝物，浅褐色调，长度有6英寸多一点，每一支都有一个巧克力棕色的标箍，上面印着一个白色的剑形徽章。“蒙特克里斯托”这个名字取自大仲马(Alexandre Dumas)的小说，蒙特2号很久以来都是我最爱的雪茄之一，但是因为太少见，我都不记得上次抽是什么时候了。

“Gracias,” I told the woman, who shot me a weary smile as she wrapped my bounty in newspaper. I knew the price, 80 CUC (convertible Cuban pesos, priced to the American dollar), would spark envy in buddies back home accustomed to paying upward of $350 on the black market for a box of these gems. “You happy, my friend?” Jorge asked. I shook his hand, then hugged him as if he were family.

“谢谢，”我用西班牙语对那个女人说。她用报纸把我的宝物包好，回了我一个淡淡的微笑。我花了80古巴可兑换比索（大约和80美元等值），我知道这价格肯定会招来老乡们的嫉妒，他们在黑市一般得花至少350美元才能买一盒。“高兴了吧，我的朋友？”豪尔赫问道。我跟他握了手，然后像对待亲人那样拥抱了他。

Fifty-three years have passed since President John F. Kennedy enacted the Cuban trade embargo, ushering in a Dark Ages for American cigar enthusiasts. What’s less known, though, is that before imposing these historic sanctions on all Cuban products, the president called his press secretary at the time, Pierre Salinger, and asked him to secure “a lot of cigars,” Mr. Salinger recounted in 1992 in Cigar Aficionado magazine. As it happened, it wasn’t until the following morning, when Mr. Salinger informed the president that he had, in fact, scored 1,200 petite H. Upmanns (named after Herman Upmann, a German banker who opened a branch in Havana in the mid-1800s to send cigars home to Europe), that Kennedy signed the decree.

自约翰·F·肯尼迪(John F. Kennedy)总统下令对古巴实行贸易禁运，至今已有53年了。这一禁令开启了美国雪茄爱好者的“黑暗时代”。不过，还有个鲜为人知的趣事：在对所有古巴产品实施旷日持久的制裁令之前，总统给时任白宫新闻秘书的皮埃尔·塞林格(Pierre Salinger)打电话，让他“多弄点雪茄来”，塞林格先生在1992年接受《雪茄爱好者》(Cigar Aficionado)杂志采访时披露了这件事。巧合的是，就在第二天早上，塞林格告诉总统他已经存了1200支乌普曼(petite H. Upmann)（该雪茄以德国银行家赫尔曼·乌普曼[Herman Upmann]的命名，19世纪中叶，为了把雪茄寄回欧洲的家乡，他在哈瓦那开了一家分行），然后肯尼迪才签署了法令。

For the average American cigar lover, Cuban smokes have remained mostly the rare indulgence; a celebratory spoil procured through mysterious back channels and offered when babies or businesses are born. Yet suddenly, the restoration of diplomatic relations with Cuba last July brought with it the prospect of a cigar renaissance; opening a path for ordinary Americans to visit and bring back, for now at least, $100 worth of Cuban cigars from tobacco’s Holy Grail.

对于普通的美国雪茄爱好者来说，大部分情况下，古巴雪茄仍然是奢侈的嗜好；而且要通过“神秘渠道”才能弄到，在需要庆祝的场合才能拿出来，比如婴儿出生，或公司开张。但是突然之间，美国在今年7月与古巴恢复了外交关系，让雪茄有望在美国复苏，也为美国老百姓开通了一条去古巴购买雪茄的路径，至少以目前的规定，他们可以从这个烟草圣地带回价值100美元以内的古巴雪茄。

The eased sanctions put me in the mood to explore Cuba’s cigar culture, including the Alejandro Robaina Tobacco Plantation, arguably the most famous tobacco farm in the world. The home of the late farmer Alejandro Robaina, known as the face of the Cuban cigar, Robaina is tucked away in the town of San Luis in the Pinar del Río province, the most western section of Cuba. Founded in 1845, the farm is known for its robust yields of high-quality wrapper leaves; so impressive, in fact, that in the early 1980s Fidel Castro — a cigar-smoking Cohiba man himself — branded these cigars with the Robaina family name, the only Habanos to boast such a distinction.

由于放松了制裁，我有了探寻古巴雪茄文化的念头，还想去看看亚历杭德罗·罗瓦伊纳烟草种植园(Alejandro Robaina Tobacco Plantation)——它恐怕是世界上最著名的烟草农场。罗瓦伊纳种植园是已故农民亚历杭德罗·罗瓦伊纳的居所，位于古巴最西部的比那尔德里奥省(Pinar del Río province)，也被称为“古巴雪茄的门面”。该种植园创立于1845年，以高产优质的烟叶而闻名；事实上，因为这里的烟叶太出色，作为高斯巴雪茄爱好者的菲德尔·卡斯特罗(Fidel Castro)在20世纪80年代初期就把这里出产的雪茄以罗瓦伊纳的姓氏命名了，罗瓦伊纳雪茄也成了唯一获此殊荣的哈伯纳斯(Habanos)。

While Cuba can’t lay claim as the birthplace of cigars (historians give those bragging rights to farms in Guatemala), the island reigns as the world’s best producer of quality leaves, as celebrated as Napa and Bordeaux are by wine lovers.

虽然古巴不能自称为“雪茄的发源地”（历史学家把这炫耀的权利给了危地马拉的农场），但这座岛屿仍然是世界上最好的优质烟叶产地，其盛名堪比葡萄酒爱好者眼中的纳帕和波尔多。

Traveling to Cuba is not generally the smoothest affair. I enjoyed the advantage of the Cuban embassy granting me permission to document this adventure as an official journalist. Most American cigar aficionados wanting to visit might find getting there quite difficult, since the law still does not allow Americans to travel to Cuba for tourism, but rather only for a dozen approved categories, which include religious and educational activities, professional research and humanitarian projects.

一般来说，前往古巴不能算在“天下最容易的事”之列。但我占了一个优势，古巴大使馆准许我作为官方记者记录这次旅程。大多数想去古巴的美国雪茄爱好者也许觉得去那里很难，因为法律仍然不允许美国人以旅游为由前往古巴，被允许的只有几类理由，包括宗教及教育活动、课题研究，以及人道主义项目。

For lodging in Havana I chose the Hotel Capri, a block from the Hotel Nacional, a favorite haunt of the notorious mobster Meyer Lansky, and near other famous cigar shops and rolling factories, as well as nightclubs flowing with Havana Club rum and Afro-Cuban music. The Capri, operated by the NH Hotel Group of Spain, also has Internet access, although the service was so spotty that I moved for my final night to a quieter, family-owned bed-and-breakfast, which turned out, in fact, to be decidedly lacking Internet access and other luxuries.

在哈瓦那住宿，我选择了卡普里酒店(Hotel Capri)，离那个恶名昭著的黑帮头目梅耶·兰斯基(Meyer Lansky)最常出没的古巴国际酒店(Hotel Nacional)只有一个街区。著名的雪茄店和卷烟厂都在附近，还有几间提供哈瓦那俱乐部(Havana Club)朗姆酒和非洲古巴音乐的夜总会。卡普里酒店由西班牙NH酒店集团(NH Hotel Group)管理，可以上网，但服务时好时坏，所以我最后一晚搬到了一家更清静的家庭自营民宿，结果肯定是不能上网了，享受更谈不上。

Cigar smokers, actually smokers in general, enjoy rare freedom in Cuba, a carte blanche to light up in virtually any restaurant or bar, generally unheard of these days in North America and Europe. On my first evening, after a delicious seafood risotto on the balcony at the Café Laurent, a penthouse paladar (or privately owned restaurant) overlooking the Malecón, my waiter glanced at my newly acquired Montecristo No. 2 resting on the table. I planned to smoke it during a stroll afterward. Yet moments later, my cigar was cut — thanks to my hospitable waiter — and with its tip aglow, I gazed out at the Havana skyline. The view included the city’s tallest building, the state-owned Focsa, a towering commercial-residential structure, which at its base included a gigantic swimming pool with no water on this sweltering night.

抽雪茄的人，或者说只要是普通的吸烟人士，都很享受古巴难得的自由。他们在所有餐厅和酒吧都可以抽烟，这在如今的北美和欧洲是闻所未闻的。到了古巴的第一晚，我在Café Laurent的露台上吃了一顿美味的意大利海鲜饭，在这家顶楼餐厅（或者说私家餐厅）可以俯瞰海滨大道(Malecón)。吃完饭，服务员看了一眼桌上我刚买的蒙特2号。我本来想等散步时再抽的，但是没过一会儿，我的雪茄就被剪开了——感谢我那殷勤的服务员——点燃的雪茄头泛着红光，我凝视着哈瓦那的天际线。我看到了哈瓦那最高的建筑Focsa，那是一栋国有的商住两用大厦，底层有一个巨大的游泳池，在这酷热难忍的夜晚，却一滴水都没有。

I savored the creamy aroma of my cigar, or puros, marveling at the perfection of the moment: the city lights and the rumba music wafting up from the streets. Even the non-cigar smoker must concede that a kind of Habanos romance swirls across this island. Cubans cherish cigars, literally. The works of the late Cuban poet Heberto Padilla have been compared to a great cigar: balanced, full flavored and serene. In the late 1960s, before Fidel Castro’s regime imprisoned and tortured the poet for criticizing Castro’s government, and before such intellectuals as Susan Sontag and Jean-Paul Sartre successfully campaigned for his release, Mr. Padilla had written, rather presciently: “General, I can’t destroy your fleets or your tanks/and I don’t know how long this war will last/but every night one of your orders dies without being followed/and, undefeated, one of my songs survives.”

品尝着这支雪茄（西班牙语称为“普饶”[puro]）的奶油香气，我不禁对这完美的瞬间心生赞叹：哈瓦那华灯初上，伦巴音乐飘荡在街头。即便是不抽雪茄的人，也一定会承认这座岛上弥漫着一种哈伯纳斯情怀。古巴人是真正珍爱雪茄的。已故古巴诗人赫伯托·帕迪亚(Heberto Padilla)的作品曾被比作“一支上好的雪茄”：气味均衡饱满，令人平静安详。20世纪60年代末，在帕迪亚因批判卡斯特罗政府而被关押和迫害之前，当时苏珊·桑塔格(Susan Sontag)和让-保罗·萨特(Jean-Paul Sartre)等知识分子要求释放他的抗议运动还未成功，帕迪亚先生就写过一首颇有远见的诗：“长官，我无法摧毁你的舰队，或你的坦克/我也不知道这场战役会持续多久/但是每天晚上，都会有一条你的命令在失去拥护中消亡/而每天晚上，都会有一首我的歌在百折不挠中继续高唱。”