Paradise or Market? A Reflection on Abundance and Reality
There is a scene that repeats itself all too often. Someone returns from a trip and says that in such-and-such a country "there is everything." That the supermarkets are full, that there are brands, sales, constant electricity, and no endless lines. And then someone says, almost in a sigh: “That is paradise.”
But it’s worth pausing there.
Paradise compared to what? And for whom?
Because when a society lives for years in conditions of scarcity—due to an economic blockade by the world’s richest power for 65 years—the threshold of what is considered "well-being" shifts. The simple act of entering a market and choosing between three types of milk instead of none becomes a symbol of prosperity. Relative abundance, seen from absolute deprivation, is perceived as a miracle.
However, for those born and raised in Haiti, the Dominican Republic, Mexico, or Brazil, the word “paradise” carries a different weight. It is not measured only in full shelves.
The Illusion of Abundance
From the outside, the storefront is dazzling. Brightly lit supermarkets, shopping malls, international chains. That is what is visible. And the visible constructs the narrative. Tourists I work with have told me this:
But inside those same countries, there are neighborhoods where people don’t shop at those supermarkets because they cannot afford what they sell. There are workers who, even with full shelves, live hand-to-mouth. There are families working two jobs and still failing to make ends meet. There are areas where violence, drug trafficking, or corruption are part of the daily landscape.
A full supermarket does not eliminate inequality. It only hides it better.
In Brazil, for example, luxury developments coexist with favelas that lack basic services. In Mexico, access to goods has not eradicated chronic insecurity in many regions. In the Dominican Republic, economic growth coexists with low wages and job precariousness. And Haiti… Haiti is an extreme case where institutional collapse makes abundance, in reality, exceptional.
So, is it paradise because there are products? Or is it simply a more functional market?
The Comparative Effect
Perception is not objective; it is comparative.
For someone living in a closed economy with severe restrictions, any system where the market functions with relative normality seems extraordinary. But for the average citizen of those countries, the standard is not “being better off than Cuba,” but rather “being better than yesterday,” “having security,” or “having real opportunities for social mobility.”
There, the concept of paradise becomes complicated.
A young Mexican does not compare his reality with Cuban scarcity; he compares it with the insecurity he faces, the lack of opportunity in certain regions, or political corruption. A Brazilian doesn't just celebrate that there are products; he wonders if he will be able to pay for his children's university or if his neighborhood is safe. A Dominican does not evaluate his country by the variety of brands, but by job stability and the quality of public services.
The framework changes the conclusion.
Economic Freedom is Not Social Justice
Another point often overlooked is that the abundance of goods does not automatically equate to equity.
In more open economies, there is supply, yes. But there is also fierce competition, structural inequality, and social vulnerability. Those who do not produce or fail to insert themselves into the market are left behind. And the market has no moral vocation; it follows the logic of efficiency.
For someone coming from a system where official discourse has revolved around equality, simple access to products can seem like a total conquest. But in more open societies, the debate is not just about access to goods, but about income distribution, quality of public services, labor rights, and real social mobility.
And many citizens of those countries feel they are far from the ideal.
The Psychological Mirage
There is also a strong emotional component.
When someone lives under constant pressure—economic, bureaucratic, symbolic—any space with fewer restrictions feels like relief. And relief can be mistaken for structural happiness.
But the tourist or the newcomer does not live what the average citizen lives: taxes, high rents, unequal healthcare systems, urban violence, structural racism, discrimination, and debt.
The visitor sees the storefront. The resident knows the backroom.
The Problem is Not Calling it "Paradise"
The problem is not that someone uses that word out of emotion. It is human to do so. The problem is turning that comparison into an analysis.
Because when the judgment is simplified to “there are things in the market, therefore it’s paradise,” the social, economic, and political complexities of those countries are made invisible. Nuance is lost.
And an opportunity to understand something deeper is also lost: that no system resolves all human tensions. The problems change, the anxieties change, the priorities change.
In one place, milk may be missing. In another, milk may be everywhere, but security is missing. In one, there may be excessive state control; in another, state abandonment in certain areas. In one, there may be symbolic stability but material poverty; in another, economic mobility but social fracture.
What, Then, is Paradise?
Perhaps the right question isn't which country is a paradise, but what conditions allow a person to feel dignity and stability.
Security. Real access to opportunities. The ability to plan for the future. Public services that work. Predictable institutions. An environment where effort receives a reasonable reward.
If those variables fail, the full supermarket loses part of its magic.
A Colder Look
Idealizing other countries can be understandable when living in scarcity. But it can also be a form of evasion. Turning the “outside” into a myth simplifies internal frustration: if everything outside is perfect, then the problem is clearly localized.
The reality, however, is less cinematic.
Those countries have more open economies, yes. They have a supply of goods, yes. But they also have inequality, insecurity, political tensions, recurring crises, and structural conflicts.
They are not hells, but they are not heavens either.
They are complex societies, with both achievements and wounds.
And perhaps the most honest conversation isn't about which country is paradise, but about what concrete conditions we need for daily life to be livable, dignified, and sustainable.
Because in the end, paradise is not found in the supermarket aisle.
Humberto. Local Guide in Havana. History Teacher.
WhatsApp: +5352646921
Instagram: humberto_habana
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