Irina Pino’s Diary

In 1985, at the end of a party, a friend invited me over to listen to a Bob Dylan album. At first, the music surprised me. Then I felt that it was something different. The songs, played with a guitar and a harmonica, were endless.

Last night, while channel surfing, I put on Pasaje a lo desconocido, a show aired by Cuban television. Though I don’t make a habit of watching the program, I did this time because the issue addressed was both interesting and controversial: euthanasia.

“Aren’t you going to watch Panfilo?” This is what someone in my family always says to get us together to watch the sitcom Vivir del cuento, the only Cuban comedy show aired by Cubavision these days.

What people look for in the “package” is variety: people choose what they want to watch. There may be a lot of trite stuff in it, but one can also find interesting documentaries, the occasional film with artistic merit, etc.

Obispo is one of the busiest streets in Havana’s old town: throughout the day, the city’s self-employed work vigorously to compete with State establishments. People’s toing-and-froing makes the street difficult to walk through.

Having had the opportunity to write for Havana Times is the most important thing for me in this year’s balance (I don’t know whether I’ve already told readers I tried to become a regular contributor several times before accomplishing this).

Everyone is talking about the same thing: the re-establishment of diplomatic relations between Cuba and the United States. Though some are optimistic and others skeptical, the truth is that the news has stirred everybody up.

A few days ago, pianist Frank Fernandez and flutist Niurka Gonzalez performed classic pieces by Mozart, Bach, Gluck and Tchaikovsky at the San Francisco de Asis Convent in Old Havana. I made the trip down to the old town to attend the concert.

“The sun will burn out, whether we like it or not.” In other words, it doesn’t matter what we do in life: everything is a meaningless illusion, because nothing endures. It is difficult to believe such admissions of hopelessness come from Woody Allen…

I had never gone to Havana’s Las Vegas cabaret before. I only went there that night to accompany a professional photographer who was interested in taking pictures of the performers in the show.