Osmel Almaguer’s Diary

After several years of Cuba’s great “energy revolution,” the debts shouldered by the Cuban people to the government for the purchase the energy-efficient appliances are beginning to take their toll.

My mother’s scooter is red not only in color, but also because it belongs to the socialist state, that being an abstraction of what we are all supposed to be a part. That’s why the scooter doesn’t belong to her.

Everyone knows that Cuban baseball is not enjoying its finest moment. One problem that’s been fully discussed is the imbalance between its pitching and batting capabilities, with the latter possessing an overwhelming advantage.

I’m here at the bank where I’m unable to cash a check for 100 pesos ($5 USD), which I earned for the articles I’ve written. The cashier said the signature was invalid.

In a rigid but also chaotic system in which there are too many people experiencing unmet needs, things that begin as curious can turn into the pitiful.

Since the issuing of licenses was approved many people have gotten busy putting together their own businesses. This is occurring especially in the areas of food service and the sale of light articles like handicrafts, clothes, etc.

“In Jesus Christ is the truth” – at least according to a sign on a door I pass by daily on the way from work. That message is written in brown crayon on the deteriorating entryway wall. Its strokes seem impetuous, giving the idea of having been scrawled out in a moment of passion.

Yesterday — during the half hour I had free between my machine in a cybercafé and a meeting set up with a friend — I used it to go sit on the malecon seawall.

Though I’m a fervent follower of most sports, soccer — which is one of the greatest and most profitable spectacles in the world today — doesn’t arouse great passion in me.

They say that only to participate in an Olympic Games is in itself tremendous of glory for any athlete. Winning a medal, then, must be something like sitting at the table with Olympian gods. However, for Cuban athletes there’s an equivalent privilege that few have ever experienced: the right to the “Olympic Dining Room.”