In our grandmothers’ time there was a well established custom of dropping by to return a favour; they would exchange a dessert or some fried malanga over the fence or ring at a neighbor’s door. Sadly, and for reasons we’re all aware of, this custom has been lost, but it’s sort of what this post is. Not long ago, Miriam Celaya wrote a post on her Without Evasion page about Bad Handwriting and it did wonders for my self-esteem and enthusiasm for blogging. When I thanked Miriam what I didn’t tell her was that I hadn’t read her. I knew she was one of the winners of the Virtual Island competition, but I’d only glanced over her texts which looked quite lengthy. With a secret guiltiness, I opened Miriam’s blog on the Cuban Voices page and the same happened to me as had happened to Miriam, only in my case, I’m the more deficient: if Miriam owns up to a delay in reading my blog, which has only been going two months, imagine how I felt looking at the web diary of a veteran of the alternative blogosphere like Miriam.*
Miriam’s writing is incisive, implacable, jovial, profound, and she demystifies things. There’s nothing gratuitous to be found in her texts. This could have been an apology made in person, but it wouldn’t be so light-hearted in private, so I congratulate Miriam and I’m also delighted now to have read her. More than that, I’m pleased that the Blogger Academy has given me the chance to know her in person and off line.
Translated by RSP
Translator’s note: In the Spanish, Regina uses ‘bitácora’ where I’ve put ‘web diary’. Basically, bitácora and blog are interchangeable in Spanish, though a bitácora has a different etymology than blog. It meant originally a nautical log book. In the Spanish language version of Star Trek, the Enterprise has a bitácora, i.e. Captain’s log book.
I was sorry not to have a camera, but Iván, so well prepared, loaned me his and these are the photos you see here. While I was waiting for the bus, I remembered an enthusiastic campaign to eradicate structural obstacles in the built environment. The campaign, which happened before I fell, was focused on getting rid of obstacles to access for the physically handicapped. Most of the pavements in the most central part of Havana were lowered at intersections. At that moment, impressed, I asked myself: What about obstacles between one intersection and another, don’t they count? Wouldn’t it be better to fix the length and breadth of the pavements and not just to lower them at intersections? Between them, the roots of trees, the shoddy work done by the gas and the water companies, unscrupulous inhabitants, and the passage of time have left the city with a legacy like that of one that’s been bombed.