It’s been a while since I’ve written anything for Havana Times, some readers might have thought that I had got tired of writing. The thing is, though, that my mother suffered a fracture and I am looking after her around the clock.
Read MoreEven though we witness things every day that leave us speechless, some things stand out more than others and strike us a little more. If there is a place in Havana where things like this happen almost every day, then that’s at bus stops or even on buses.
Read MoreKatia was my best friend in Venezuela. She was at least 20 years younger than me, but she wasn’t one of those “kids” you waste time with if you sit and talk to her… well… sometimes yeah, but it’s nice to feel like you’re “losing time” sometimes too.
Read MoreThe US blockade against Cuba, waged as an economic war and an obsession of persecution throughout the entire world, is a failed policy. Even Barack Obama knew that.
Read MoreI have written about my experiences as a mother on more than one occasion and I’ve received both criticism and praise in response. I’m not looking for either, I’m just another mother, another Cuban mother, with all of her ups and downs.
Read MoreThe following is the second part of the story in which I spent three days, of my own accord, in a Havana jail cell, thanks to my neighbor the policeman’s help, so I could stop smoking.
Read MoreOver the past few weeks, I have read some articles that advocate for the proper treatment of animals here in Cuba, and I would like to raise my voice with theirs,..
Read MoreThe first thing that left an impression on me about Buenos Aires was a park near the hotel we were staying: Plaza de San Martin. I don’t know why the city reminded me of the French animation movie “The Illusionist”. (12 photos)
Read MoreI can’t be the first, or the last, person a foreigner has asked in Cuba: how much money does a family of 4-5 people approximately need to live a decent life in this country.
Read MoreA truck appears and we climb in as we can, some hand offered from above, where some twenty sweaty bodies are piled up. “At 300 to Barquisimeto”, the collector vociferates…
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