In the first few days of the coup d’état against Zelaya, I heard the word “constitution” bandied about in the media more times than I had ever in my life. Prompted by this, I wrote a few words about how unusual this was for the Cuban people; perhaps the situation is similar with Australians, I don’t know.
Read MoreThey were Cuban musicians who traveled to Spain in the 1990s. The ’90s for Cuba is not a chronological category, but an ontological one. This period has to do with the very being of the nation. With our existence, contorted, sharply painful, whose pressure ends up being felt close the heart – like a bullet.
Read MoreLast night I was walking down 23rd street, not in any particular hurry to get home, so I stopped in front of the Coppelia ice-cream parlor. It usually closes its doors at 9:00 p.m., but this month they decided to extend their hours until midnight.
Read MoreJuanes has not backed down or become disheartened. In cardinal points as distant as Orlando and Madrid, diverse voices – Olga Tañón and Miguel Bosé for example- have reiterated their willingness to accompany him to Cuba. Others such as Víctor Manuel and Ana Belén have even come out in open defiance of the Miami rabble.
Read MoreEvery weekend this corner is thronging with lots of young people who spend the late evening hours playing guitars, telling stories, laughing and even dancing to the sounds of just about any type of music (since nobody cares to take charge of structuring that particular alternative).
Read MoreThere were already some Santa Cruz residents gathered at the (ex) bus stop of the (ex) 669, when suddenly a vintage 1956 Chevrolet passed by and stopped. Several went running toward it in hopes of using a private-sector mode of transportation to reach their homes.
Read MoreI think that my true personal success should be measured by my behavior and interactions with society, as well as my degree of active participation over the years; regardless of whether I am a doctor, carpenter, mason, street sweeper, factory worker, day laborer, teacher, or even an ice cream vendor.
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Perhaps by chance, El Loco (the lunatic) and his stooges showed up walking down the street. El Loco lives very close to my house; in fact, I practically saw him born, grow up, and take one step after another along the road to delinquency.
As a teacher at a Municipal University, I am perfectly familiar with the problems the officials were referring to. Although these facilities offer the same diplomas as the daytime programs, it has been obvious that the real level of instruction is below that of “conventional” universities.
Read MoreWhat I know about my paternal grandparents I owe to my father, who occasionally after dinner talks about his childhood. Most of what he mentions are references to his father, who would take my dad by the hand and bring him along on walks to neighboring towns during Grandpa Juan’s drinking binges.
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