Violence vs. Civility
Regardless of everything, there’s something that doesn’t cease to be contradictory: I find that despite the violence in the streets, I don’t sense violence from the people of Caracas. (8 photos)
Regardless of everything, there’s something that doesn’t cease to be contradictory: I find that despite the violence in the streets, I don’t sense violence from the people of Caracas. (8 photos)
The most amusing thing was a pack of little donkeys we saw on the trip along the peninsula in the State of Falcon. Never before had I seen wild donkeys; they were both distrustful and lovers of the sea that greets the most arid territory I’ve ever visited.
I would have preferred to reach the summit along the footpath on the side of the mountains. I would have also given my who knows what to have shared that with my friends. We would have waved at the tourists from below, with our day packs strapped to our shoulders, and when reaching the highest peak we would have taken a detour to steer clear of the tourist center, with all its shops and its ice-skating rink. (25 photos)
Easter week in Venezuela is quite different to what we Cubans are used to: everybody goes on vacation. Many of the businesses are closed —almost all of them— and the workers go to their homes or any other place they want to during these days made so hot by the lack of rain in the country. (22 photos)
I had never flown abroad, at least not physically. This first trip took me by surprise; I didn’t even have time to say goodbye to all my friends and family – that was the bad part. Nor do I like the fact I’ll have to go several months without seeing them. But I can’t complain; thousands of Cubans would love to be in my place.
It’s common for us as people to be obsessed with judging others: evaluating what they do, what they think, how they dress, who they associate with, what they spend their time and money on… We judge everything. In that way we lose out on a lot of good feelings, relationships and experiences, and can even do harm to the person we judge.
This afternoon a rooster was brought into the Latin American Stadium. It wasn’t the first time that the fans came with a bird, but it was the first time —at least the first time that I know of— that they tied one by the legs and sent it sailing like a rock from a sling.
I was walking along one of those long roads, walking just to walk, looking calmly at things we hardly see when speeding by, squeezed together and paranoiac inside a city bus.
When I saw a certain title in Havana Times, revealing deaths at this psychiatric hospital, I thought it was from some diary entry by one my colleagues; perhaps they were alluding to the situation at that center before the revolutionary victory.
It is a myth, a dream or a half truth. Movies, websites, books and all type debates have been generated concerning US government projects aimed at controlling people’s minds, to turn them into robots that obey the most senseless orders. Power is the obsession, the motivating force behind that idea.