It’s not the vintage cars or the pastel buildings that stand out from my recent trip to Cuba, but rather the people who own them. The Cubans I met are charming, intelligent and unwaveringly proud. But they’re also frustrated by a lack of freedom, money and resources. There are some, though, who have taken matters into their own hands — like my first host Jorge.

Jorge registered his Colonial-style family home as a casa particular, or “private house,” so he can rent rooms to travelers visiting Havana. One night in Jorge’s casa cost me the equivalent of $25 USD, an eighth of local hotel prices but $5 more than the average Cuban makes in an entire month. Jorge is doing great by Cuban standards — he can afford to maintain his home, he has an iPad and the internet, and he’s the owner of a successful small business — but Cuban standards aren’t necessarily up to par from a global perspective.

The average Cuban makes $20 per month. That’s bank tellers, doctors, accountants and teachers, making about as much as the average citizen in Malawi, the world’s poorest country according to 2014 World Bank data.

But Cuba doesn’t top “Poorest Countries in the World” lists because its citizens have access to free healthcare and education, as well as highly subsidized food and housing — the primary measurements for severe poverty.

While at the most basic of levels, Cuba is doing fine, the reality is that its people still have limited potential in the global market due to government oppression, including access to media and travel. Internet access is increasing but remains cost-prohibitive and limited to small areas in big cities, and costs for items like cell phones, computers and even domestic air travel can cost a Cuban many months’ salaries.

So while there are opportunities for locals to increase their earning potential such as opening a casa particular like Jorge did, they’re not viable for many. This begs the question whether the new “opened” Cuba can actually compete globally, as it once did quite well, experiencing even higher income than some US states.

I went to Cuba as a journalist, aware of its history and eager to experience the country before the inevitable changes that will come as US and Cuban relations improve. As an American, a sense of guilt weighed on me, knowing it was my country that cut off Cuba from so many of its resources in 1961, leaving it behind to rely on volatile relationships with other countries such as Russia. But the Cubans I met welcomed me warmly with their Caribbean charm, and some of that guilt was shed over the following weeks as President Obama continued to star almost exclusively on all Cuban news channels and radios.

The locals weren’t shy to share their excitement for travelers from the US, specifically money from the US, to hit their streets. I was a perfect example of this, and that was fine by me. The locals were happy to spend time together, practice English, and talk about the newly-reconciled friendship between US and Cuba. Almost every Cuban I spoke to, from Viñales to Baracoa and plenty of places between, embraced the looser travel rules with open arms and smiling eyes, as well as the occasional fist pump proclaiming, “Viva Obama!”

Responses to the easing on US travel restrictions are complex and not everyone is supportive. Many Cuban-Americans whose families were massacred by the Castro Regime do not support US travel as long as the Castros remain in power.

It’s easy to see why those Cuban-Americans, and many Cubans themselves, might feel uneasy. The economy has been stuck in a state of disrepair for decades, and yet the tourism media boasts a land of vibrancy where time stands still, highlighting photos of 1950’s cars against a backdrop of classic yet dilapidated Colonial architecture.

But these vintage cars and weathered homes exist because the taxi drivers can’t afford newer and more efficient cars, because homeowners don’t have access to tools for simple home repairs.

It’s not actually hard to see the very real signs of poverty and oppression in Cuba; it’s just so deeply ingrained in what we already see in the media, it simply lives up to the picturesque charm we’ve come to expect.

While it’s easy for travelers to get swept up in the excitement and exoticism of this “time-warped” country, it’s important that we be mindful of the impact tourism can and does have on the future there.

Travelers eat, sleep and explore. Most of the time, those things cost money.

By traveling without an agency, I opened up exciting options that allowed me to spend money in more diverse places with more conscious intentions, all the while sticking to a modest budget. Knowing that such options exist, I feel we can either ignore Cuba’s poverty and oppression, or recognize it and shape our actions accordingly.

By staying in those casa particulars I spent $25/night instead of $200/night on a hotel. These are basically bed and breakfasts — small businesses run by families — which provide not only comfy rooms with towels, soap and private bathrooms, but also the authentic home cooked meals, advice on where to go locally and recommendations for casa hosts in other cities.

Instead of paying $100 or more for a guided tour, my friends and I took to the city ourselves and almost always befriended locals who happily showed us around to the best bars and paladars (privately-owned restaurants) in Cuba. Sometimes they spent the entire day with us and we always made sure to say thanks by picking up the bar tab or covering their meal.

One of our best decisions was visiting cities other than main tourist hot spots like Havana, Varadero and Trinidad. Citizens in Cuba can only work in cities where they own property and have an official ID with an address. This means that people in smaller towns don’t benefit from the gush of US travel hitting bigger cities. Spreading out our itinerary introduced us to Baracoa’s intense chocolatey coffee, Santiago de Cuba’s steamy nightclubs, Viñales’ rustic countryside, and Camagüey’s quiet small-town vibes.

It also gave us a reason to be creative when it came to transportation. Buses and flights book up, so we opted to hire locals to drive us between cities. Our drivers certainly appreciated the work, which in the case of a ride between Santiago de Cuba and Trinidad earned our driver almost $200. And it was was perfect for my group, allowing for photo ops and bathroom breaks at our request, all for around the same price of a bus ticket.

People keep saying they want to visit Cuba before it’s dotted with McDonald’s, Starbucks and high-end American resorts. But what if we can help impact Cuba’s growth in ways that lessen this seemingly inevitable corporate influence? By investing in locals, we invest in local industry, growth of culture through small businesses and more authentic traveler experiences.

By putting tourism dollars into the hands of people who need it, we directly help empower a people who have been oppressed for half a century. Viva Cuba!

Doree Simon is a documentary filmmaker and travel journalist based in Brooklyn, NY. Follow her adventures on Instagram @doreesimon and check out more of her work here.

All photos by Doree Simon unless otherwise noted.