Cuba’s Yellow Submarine
A few steps from the park where every year a memorial concert marks the murder of John Lennon, and where there’s also situated a brass statue of him that’s well-known here in Havana, one can now find the “Yellow Submarine.”
A few steps from the park where every year a memorial concert marks the murder of John Lennon, and where there’s also situated a brass statue of him that’s well-known here in Havana, one can now find the “Yellow Submarine.”
I discovered an embryo of this a few nights ago. Don’t ask me to say the name of the establishment or its location. I won’t commit the sin of being inconsiderate or an informer.
After returning from Pinar del Rio Province, and perhaps as consequence of having swam in a swollen river, I began to have an ear ache. I heard my words repeated and felt as if there was water inside my head.
In my previous entry I tried to describe my adventures on a trip that I just took in the countryside of Pinar del Rio Province. This time I’d like to talk about a village there called La Peña, its people, its scarcities and how life changed in that little town.
I waited for the truck that would take me to Pinar del Rio Province for the first time and for my first time camping.
The last time I saw a fight in my hometown of Sancti Spiritus was when I wasa around seven or eight. I remember them well because those conflicts in my neighborhood in the ‘90s could have better been described as tumultuous brawls or “machete sessions”.
In these four magazines I found eleven cooking recipes, all fairly varied; from soups and vegetables juices to pineapple ice cream and coconut water with mammee fruit.
This year — just like in previous years — Pavilion Cuba is promoting exhibitions and musical presentations of diverse styles for the public’s enjoyment, especially for those people who are able to get to Vedado, the bohemian neighborhood of the city.
I’ve always loved the sea. It could be that this delight is one of the reasons I prefer to live in Cuba’s capital, where it’s so easy to smell the salt air and hear the pounding of the waves.
Now I live in the far-eastern suburb of Alamar. And, as if I were destined to never to forget to compare, they’ve sent me to complete my social service obligation in the far western suburb of Miramar.