``I was fascinated by cigars, always,'' Zarate says.

These days, Zarate, 68, makes a living from his fascination, selling cigars from a store on Armenia Avenue, a block north of where it intersects with Howard.

It's a talisman of the Tampa of old, when cigar factories seemed to stand on almost every block of Ybor and West Tampa. They attracted a river of immigrants - from Cuba, Spain, Italy.

Zarate commemorates this heritage with a bit of nostalgia he keeps under his counter - a cigar box that a friend and mentor, cigarmaker Isaac Rodriguez, once used in his own shop as a cash register.

``He was rolling cigars,'' Zarate explains. So customers served themselves and paid for their purchases on the honor system, dropping their money into the box.

Cigars aren't what they used to be to Tampa - and neither is immigration. It has changed dramatically in recent years and is beginning once again to alter the city's fabric.

To be sure, the love affair between Tampa and Latins still pulses through the bodegas, cafes and markets that line the avenue, north to south. The area around Zarate's shop teems with people who visit such places as the West Tampa Sandwich Shop daily for cafe con leche and conversation, or who stop for take-out Cuban sandwiches from Papi's Food Market.

But today's Hispanic immigrants are coming from other countries: Mexico, Puerto Rico, the Caribbean and Colombia. And increasing numbers of Asians from India, China and Vietnam are finding their places in the business and social life along Armenia, too.

This is part of what economic development people have in mind when they speak of Tampa's diversity becoming a springboard for a better a the city's economic future, perhaps turning it one day into an international trade gateway.

It wouldn't be the first time newcomers have helped spark such a transformation. Indeed, immigrants have played vital if largely unheralded roles in almost every significant economic upturn in U.S. history. By nature, immigrants are risk- takers. They work hard, learn quickly and are determined to share in the American dream.

And Tampa's immigrants are no different.

Diversity Picks Up Pace

The transformation along Armenia hasn't risen much above the neighborhood level, but the pace is quickening.

Sylvia Sierra, owner of St. Anthony's Catholic Gift Shop at the corner of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Boulevard and Armenia, has seen the change firsthand. She grew up in Ybor, the granddaughter of emigrants from Spain, and opened her shop in 1992.

In the years since, Sierra says, ``It's [become] completely different. Now it's more diversified.''

Norberto Vallejo agrees. He's an entrepreneur from Mexico who owns El Noa Noa, a Mexican supermarket. He also has a restaurant, bakery and insurance company on the site.

He envisions tearing down and expanding to a megastore ``like Kash n' Karry'' in the next few years to cater to Mexicans and other Hispanics. And he hopes to open a nightclub.

``Everybody sees the population is growing more and more,'' Vallejo says. ``We'll be getting more customers.''

Indeed, Cubans - who once represented the majority of Hispanics coming here - have slipped to third place, according to the 2000 census. Puerto Ricans, with 52,568 residents, have become the largest Hispanic group in Hillsborough County. Mexicans place second with 35,321 residents, but if undocumented workers were included, Mexicans would probably outnumber Puerto Ricans, census officials say. Cubans in 2000 numbered 35,123.

Meanwhile, the Asian population here is growing even more rapidly. As a whole, they're now the fastest-growing immigrant group in the area - although they account for only about 2 percent of the population. Asian Indians lead with about 6,300 residents, followed by Vietnamese with nearly 4,000 residents, Filipinos with about 3,500 residents and Chinese with about 3,000 residents.

Walk Armenia, and this is what you'll see: Truc Giang, an Oriental market, stands beside Mi Pueblito, a Mexican bakery.

Tan Phat, another Oriental market, stands next to the American-Latino Market, which sells Cuban sandwiches and coffee. Across the street is a Colombian restaurant, La Cabana Antioquena.

Rick's Mini-Mart symbolizes part of this growing Asian influx: It's about to be renamed for the Hindu elephant god Ganesh. Achyut and Sonal Mashruwala, emigrants from India, bought it in 1996. Only a small section in the back sold Indian foods. They knocked out a wall and expanded. Now American snacks are squeezed into a small section near the frozen foods, and Indian food dominates the shelves.

Maybe 600 Indian families lived in Tampa a decade ago. The Mashruwalas count nearly 3,000 families now who are potential customers. They come from places as close as Carrollwood and as far away as Zephyrhills.

What they've done so far is just the beginning, the Mashruwalas say. Indian food is popular with vegetarians and the health-conscious.

``I want to create an American crowd,'' Sonal Mashruwala says. She also tries her limited Spanish on every Hispanic customer who stops by for Indian foods.

The American Minority

North of Waters Avenue, Tom Scaglione runs Cherry's Coin Laundry, the only American business in the ethnic potpourri of Evershine Square.

He passes slow days outside his shop talking with his business neighbors.

Before he bought the business, Scaglione studied the neighborhood's ethnicity closely and decided he had an advantage. He spoke English. The language, he says, has been a unifying thread.

The laundry's previous owners struggled, drawing about five customers a week, Scaglione says. They were Cuban and spoke little English.

A year later, Scaglione sees 150 or more customers a week.

Everyone else seems to speak a little English. But Scaglione learns, too.

``I've picked up a little Vietnamese, a little Chinese,'' Scaglione says. He already knew some Spanish.

Such worldliness exists everywhere on the square. Muski Pops, a Filipino shop whose name translates to ``Whatever'' in English, sells Filipino snacks, jewelry, videos, CDs and DVDs. Two tables with plastic cloths and pots of flowers invite customers to stop for a drink and conversation.

On one side is an Asian bakery, on the other a Vietnamese dentist who works weekends.

Nearby, Duoc Bui and her husband, Vinh Ha, run Cafe Linh.

The walls are decorated with U.S. and Vietnamese flags and photos from the Vietnam War. Ha served in the Vietnamese army. Bui was a midwife in a Vietnamese hospital.

``We escaped,'' Bui says of the family's journey to Tampa 15 years ago. ``We come here and we work very hard.''

Her husband's first job was as a dishwasher. They also worked at a flea market. The couple's children went to U.S. schools and became a pharmacist, a dentist and an electrical engineer.

``That's why I came here, for my children's education,'' Bui says. ``That's my success, for my children.''

No, this is no longer your grandfather's Tampa. But will its changing role as a melting pot give the rest of us the prosperity and sense of accomplishment that Bui found?

Maybe. It has happened here before. Just ask Rene Zarate, who still commemorates Tampa's immigrant past by keeping a friend's cardboard change-maker tucked sentimentally beneath his counter.

Reporter Kathy Steele can be reached at (813) 259-7920.