Ernesto Perez takes a swig from a rum bottle on Havana's weathered Malecon sea wall and says he cannot wait to have the state off his back. The 19-year-old university graduate drives a battered Soviet-era Moskovich car for a living as a cabdriver. Like many Cubans, he is looking for more opportunity to get ahead.
"Either this changes or we will have to find a way to leave," he said pointing to the Florida Straits that separate Cuba from the United States by 90 miles (145 km).
In Cuba, one thing is certain: Little has changed since ailing Cuban leader Fidel Castro handed over power to his brother Raul a year ago. Perez says he earns more as a "botero" (private cabdriver) than university-trained professionals can earn under Cuba's state system. But government inspectors make life difficult for him and other boteros.
When Castro was sidelined by illness last July, many Cubans hoped for changes that would improve their economic lot. Some hoped the end of communism was near. Others saw Raul Castro as a reformer who would follow China and open up the economy.
Cubans long for a day when they can buy cellular phones, computers and cars, stay at hotels reserved for foreigners, open small businesses or travel abroad at will. The government recently took one step in that direction by allowing Cubans to bring DVDs and car parts through customs.
It is not certain whether further easing of controls will follow, or indeed whether Castro, who will be 81 in August and has not appeared in public for a year, will return to governing Cuba. "The country is calm, though people are saying that Raul wants to fix things and Fidel is opposed," said Jose, a travel agent and Communist Party member, sitting under a parasol on a beach.
"Raul is a practical man. He sees something that does not work, he says change it. The first thing they have to do is improve salaries. People don't earn enough for food," he said. Many Cubans hope Fidel Castro, who is recovering from life-threatening intestinal surgery, will take a back seat as elder statesman and give his brother room to make changes.
"Fidel is still lucid and sticks to his belief in an egalitarian society," said Jose. In La Corea, one of Havana's poorest communities, Dagoberto Ona keeps the faith. The bricklayer believes "el Comandante" can still resolve Cuba's problems even from an armchair.
"Forget it. We are going to continue marching ahead slowly. Fidel might be ill, but he is still calling the shots, and expressing his views," he said, smoking his fifth cigar of the day, a low-quality stogie sold for 1 peso (5 US cents).
Pigs squeal and children play in the neighbourhood officially considered unfit to live in. Urban improvements are being funded by nongovernmental organisations from Spain and Italy.
"Our party will raise salaries again soon," said Ona, 48, who earns 350 pesos ($17) a month, plus a $10 bonus. For Pichi, an impatient odd-job man boasting a cell phone and an MP3 player, that's too late.
"They stole 40 years of my life, all my opportunities. Before there was hope of change, now there is none," he said. The former taxi driver, who has tried to make ends meet as a mechanic and an electrician, said 15 acquaintances had left Cuba by sea since May, picked up by smugglers' speed boats.