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Waking in Havana on my second morning here and I am aware of the absence of things: Water (for some random reason there is none

In Natalia’s house we are playing musical beds. It is a small apartment. One large bedroom and a smaller one carved out of the living

There must be something in the water—the water that has to be boiled and then filtered to be safe for drinking, the water that has

I clutched the paper in my hand like a young girl on her first solo bus trip. I had read the instructions three times already:

The park is only five blocks from Natalia’s house. It is a large 2-block square green space with many shade trees and flowering shrubs, pleasant

There is a particular shrug of the shoulders, a specific wry upturn of the lip that greets my questions about changes that have occurred since

I woke this morning to the sound of a persistent beep beep beep in my little room. Where was it coming from? What was it?

Today I screwed up my courage for one more try at the machinas to visit my dear friend Norma in Centro Habana. A soft rain

Last night we watched as thousands of Cubans, mostly young, marched through the streets of Havana in “La Marcha de las Antorchas”—holding flaming torches aloft

Finally my visit to Matanzas, postponed twice for complicaciones, is happening. Daniel picked me up in Havana in his very official and very small Kia