Daisy Valera’s Diary

If someone in the streets of Old Havana proposes conducting “first-class business” with you, tell them no. Why? It’s simple: prostitution a synonym for “first-class business.”

The movie reminds us of the part of the island that affects and worries us most: the material shortages and the impossibility of deciding, in many instances, what we want to do with our lives.

Four women, who along with me were waiting for some fresh brewed coffee to be ready, were pleased that bus services had returned after having disappeared during the Special Period crisis so many years ago.

The congress is being organized for this coming April, and it will be held on the basis of those economic and social guidelines. But after reading the guidelines, I can’t say I was satisfied – not at all.

A family situation requires that I return to my home province in the next few days, and the only option I have left is going by train. Many would say that this is fine, that there’s no problem with that; but I’d respond that they’re completely mistaken.

A few days ago I went by the Carlos III shopping center. I think it was a Saturday. In any case, I was looking for a pack of hotdogs. This store always gives me some reason to write.

It was with time and my being friends with people who had family members in other countries that I began to be a little more interested in what was felt by those who remained here waiting, as well as by those who left.

The fair is a battle between all those who want to buy produce without first getting in line, and with the sellers who strive —I don’t know how— to make the scales always mark in their favor.

Within stenciled graffiti there stand out the numerous ones that, along with military helmets and grenades, exhibit the initials “BCD,” which stands for “Bajo condiciones dificiles” (Under difficult conditions).

The group I was gawking at was made up of both that sector of Havana youth who study the arts and also by those who are already members of the Cuban art scene.