Translator: Unstated, Yoani Sánchez
la_rosa_negraBetween the ugly concrete buildings and the mansions with
gardens, timid spaces for entertainment are emerging. A neighborhood
that for decades was condemned to nocturnal boredom, a slice of the
bedroom city, now sees glowing signs and bars offering drinks springing
up here and there. Comfortable cafes, bars, gyms, and hairdressers
flourish with the rebirth of self-employment. Among today's
entrepreneurs, few were a part of the wave of tiny private businesses
that appeared in the mid-nineties. So they have no memory of the trauma
of being shut down, of governmental will strangling them with high
taxes, absurd restrictions, and excessive inspections.
Along with the timbiriches — the tiny businesses with few resources —
places are also opening that compete in beauty and efficiency with the
best hotel on the Island. Works of art on the walls, carved wood
furniture, lamps made to order by local artisans, are some of the
details this new class of impresarios use to decorate their premises.
Word spreads quickly: "They're opening a Mexican restaurant on that
corner"… "A Swedish chef has come to give classes to cooks planning to
open sites in Central Havana"… "On that balcony they serve the most
exquisite paella in the country." It would seem that such an influx of
creativity is unstoppable and that they will not be able — as they did
in the past — to cut off a sector whose quality exceeds the State
establishments.
The neighborhood has become a destination for people after they leave
23rd Street or the Malecon in search of recreation. But a certain
uneasiness still keeps us from enjoying the impeccable tablecloths and
the waiters in ties; some questions wash over us with every spoonful we
taste: Will they survive? Will they let them exist, or will they return
to eliminate them?
No comments:
Post a Comment