Veronica Fernandez’s Diary

The new vet I’ve hired to care for my dogs came over today. I’d already gotten used to the previous animal doctor, a young man who had finished his training recently, somewhat introverted but very good at his job, to the point of having secured a wide clientele and an excellent reputation around the neighborhood.

More than three years after going through what I had to face with my mother, now my friend Rachel explained how she had to put pressure on the hospital since they weren’t doing anything for her father.

This past October I had to renew my driver’s license. Each town on the island has a designated place where that process is carried out, and I was assigned to take my written exam and then my actual driving test in Guanabacoa (an outlying town located just east of Havana).

Alida was one of the first self-employed workers in Cuba. Back in the ‘90s she got a license to repair and make glasses, since she was able to present her certificates and titles that indicated her training in that line of work.

Recently I participated in the National Conference of Communicators that takes place every year under the sponsorship of Cuba’s Ministry of Culture. This is a chance for us to become updated on various issues related to this field of work.

Last night when I was leaving work and heading home, I ran into some friends – a married couple who I hadn’t seen in years. They had been my neighbors but they moved and we hadn’t seen each other since, until they reappeared that rainy night.

In my friend Magaly’s opinion: “You have to have a goal for maintaining a cellphone line in Cuba, and my main goal is to stay in touch with my daughter who lives in the United States?”

With the fall of the socialist camp and our entry into the “Special Period,” events occurred that eroded the main task of this organization — CDR guard duty — in a society where that organization suffered a loss of credibility and confidence.

When I head out to the agricultural market to buy a few items, I have to pass by a bakery located just a half block before my destination. I always come across the same situation: a cart pulled by a horse, driven by a man with torn and dirty clothing.