Pablo Padilla Cruz – Translating Cuba

Etecsa’s ‘Tarifazo’ Forces Cubans To Return to Dangerous Parks with WiFi

In Matanzas, users recount the difficulties of connecting to the network and thefts of accounts by hackers.

The connection’s strength isn’t a reason to jump for joy. / 14ymedio

14ymedio, Pablo Padilla Cruz, Matanzas, 12 July 2025 — The ‘tarifazo’ [huge price increase] imposed by Cuba’s State telecommunications monopoly Etecsa has suddenly returned hundreds of Cubans to the past and the search for a Wi-Fi hotspot that would allow them an internet connection. But also, due to time, those places are no longer what they once were. Blackouts and the widespread increase in theft and violence make those who are forced to resort to this option vulnerable, due to a lack of effective connections at home and the expensive and poorly managed data.

“I study,” says Yusmari sitting on a bench in Paseo Martí, in the Versalles neighborhood of Matanzas. “It’s not that all I do on the internet is study, but most of the time the so-called 6 GB extra for students, at least in the university Camilo Cienfuegos, is slow,” she says. Homework doesn’t wait, explains the young woman, who points out how small the packages are. “The 500 MB per month that we are given in school expire in no time, because a PDF enquiry can use more than 50 MB easily, and you have to get a turn for time at the computer. The only thing left is the park wifi,” she says.

But Yusmari knows that the landscape is not the same as it was a decade ago. “Now there is an atmosphere of insecurity; in addition, the street lighting almost never works because of the blackouts, so you have to be careful about coming alone. Nothing has ever happened to me, but if someone can snatch your cell phone in broad daylight, what will they do at night?” continue reading

“Now there is an atmosphere of insecurity; in addition, the street lighting almost never works because of the blackouts.”

The connection’s strength isn’t a reason to jump for joy. “There are parks that are better or worse,” says Orestes, who uses the wifi to download files while waiting for his transport to Varadero, where he works as a musician. “Everything depends on the users; in my case it’s the worst since there is not much signal in this area, and people point their phones at the park so they don’t have to leave the house. Many times in less than an hour the phone is disconnected more than 10 times, and you have to restart the authentication process,” he says. The average download speed on fixed broadband is 2.73 Mbps with an upload speed of just 0.96. These results place Cuba in 159th place out of 159 countries evaluated, according to SpeedTest.

Orestes complains that it is sometimes impossible to even enter the Etecsa user portal. “And to top it off there are cloned portals that steal your account and password with total impunity. In the end, with patience, it is resolved, and at least something lets you upload, but it’s a constant struggle.”

The young musician says that the insecurity is not only physical but also due to the hackers. “Several people have complained,” says a worker from a nearby point of contact. “Mostly elderly people, but I can’t do anything, only raise their complaints to the managers. My functions as a company worker are only commercial.” Etecsa’s investment in cybersecurity appears to be nil, they both claim.

The great alternative to public wifi areas were, before data worked, the hotels. In the case of Matanzas, many people approached the Velasco and the Louvre, in the center of the city, for their good options to get online. Being service networks abroad, the speed was much better – up to 4 MB of data transfer – and all you had to do was create an Etecsa account, but that only worked in those hotels.

The great alternative to public wifi areas were, before data worked, the hotels. In the case of Matanzas, many people approached the Velasco and the Louvre.

“The option no longer exists, at least for those Cubans who used it,” says Reinaldo, who works as a freelancer. “One day, without further ado, they told me that they could not top up my account because the service was only for guests, even though we are the Cuban customers who fill the lobby and the bar, both at the Velasco and the Louvre.”

“And every day, I spent more than three hours there and consumed enough, even had lunch several times a week. But now that network is under-exploited, and many people who are creating new ways of bringing foreign exchange into the country have to look for other paths. We all lost in this,” he says with resignation.

One of the employees at the Louvre confirms that if you are not a customer, you cannot have an account to connect to the internet in the hotel. “I don’t know the reason, and it’s not that I personally want it, but one day that law came from above and remained,” he says. “As a worker, I must comply, although it seems extreme. More so now, with the controversy over mobile data.” The employee claims that before, under the pretext of connecting to the internet, the bar was filled with domestic customers who are now mad. “Sometimes, he recalls, we couldn’t even keep up.”

Translated by Regina Anavy

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With Half-Empty Hotels and Deserted Restaurants, Varadero, Cuba is Bleeding

Many workers return to their hometowns, Cárdenas and Matanzas, to seek alternatives outside the tourism sector.

After the shock of the Covid pandemic, Varadero is experiencing its worst crisis in decades / EFE]

14ymedio, Pablo Padilla Cruz, Veradero, June 30. 2025 — In the 1990s, during the so-called Special Period, the Cuban regime bet on international tourism as a lifeline for its faltering socialist economy. The Hicacos peninsula, better known as Varadero, became in a few years the emblem of the new economic model: all-inclusive hotels, rum, tobacco and a low-cost tourist package that attracted mainly Spanish hotel chains.

But the boom is only a memory. After the shock of the covid-19 pandemic, Varadero is experiencing its worst crisis in decades. The decline in tourism has left half-empty hotels, deserted streets and thousands of workers on the verge of subsistence.

“There have always been ups and downs, but nothing like the last five years” / 14ymedio

“After Covid we had to reinvent ourselves,” says Maria Carla, a 30-year employee of the restaurant Floridita in Varadero. “There have always been ups and downs, but nothing like the last five years. All inclusive hotels have affected us a lot: tourists no longer leave the hotel, they leave a tip inside to ensure good service and they go away without stepping inside a shop or restaurant outside the complex.”

Maria Carla remembers with nostalgia the days when the city was a hotbed. Today, except for some places frequented by locals, such as the brewery on 43rd street or the bowling alley on 45th, “Varadero looks like a desert.” Many workers are returning to their home towns of Cárdenas and Matanzas to look for alternatives outside the tourism sector.

During the last decade, the official press claimed to have exceeded four million tourists per year, of which more than one million would have arrived in Varadero, but that figure has been questioned even from within.

“Every December they said that they had reached one million visitors, but there was still a long way to go to reach that figure” / 14ymedio

“At Radio 26, where I worked, everyone knew that the numbers were inflated,” says a former technician from the provincial radio station. “Every December they said that they had reached one million visitors, but there was still a long way to go to reach that figure”.

Competition has also played its part. Punta Cana, Cancun, Puerto Rico, Isla Margarita and the Bahamas offer modern infrastructure and better service. The comparison is humiliating.

“The hotels here look like campsites,” says Anthony, a buffet worker at the Los Delfines hotel. “Shrimp and lobster are almost invisible. And if they come in, we workers fight for them. Our salary is not enough, and when tourists see the environment, the toilets without seats and the leaks when it rains, they don’t leave a tip. If you don’t believe me, pass by Cuatro Palmas on a rainy day.” continue reading

“The hotels here look like campsites”

Anthony bitterly recalls a week he spent in a modest hotel in Punta Cana: “In Varadero, it would be in the top ten.” It is not surprising that the state-owned chains – Cubanacán, Gaviota and Islazul – are increasingly turning to national tourism.

“It’s the third year that we come here with the family,” says Elena, a habanera living in Marianao. “My husband and I work hard and give ourselves this luxury. But you can see the drop in service and offers. Still, we had a good time, although every year we think it will be the last. Just three days in a three-star hotel cost us more than 100,000 pesos, and with that we can eat at home for several months.”

For many Cubans from Mantanzas and Cárdenas who work there, Varadero is not just a beach, it’s their livelihood. Every tip, every bag of groceries and hotel leftovers ends up in their homes. “If Varadero is fine, Matanzas is fine,” is repeated as a mantra among those who live on what “falls off the truck.”

Translated by Regina Anavy

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Blackout for ‘The Little Prince’, Light for Cuban Communist Party Officials in Matanzas

Some neighborhoods barely suffer any outages, while others live among candles and silent refrigerators.

Members of the Teatro de las Estaciones, in Matanzas, with a poster announcing the suspension of the play. Sign: “Function suspended. Theater for children is not a priority of those who plan electricity service.”/ 14ymedio

14ymedio, Pablo Padilla Cruz, Matanzas, 20 June 2025 — “The essential is invisible to the eyes,” says the famous quote from The Little Prince. But when Antoine de Saint-Exupéry wrote it, he was not referring to the blackouts. In Matanzas, the children find it difficult to see the adaptation prepared by the group Teatro de las Estaciones. The city has become a dark pit, in whose abyss the light is distributed with diffuse and often arbitrary criteria. In that abyss, only some – the chosen few, the closest to power – receive the grace of constant electricity. As is often the case on this island, for some to win, others must lose.

“We know what is going on in the country. We know and understand that hospital circuits must have priority. What we don’t understand is how a circuit where there are only houses of Party officials and militants has ten hours more electricity than any other,” says a theater worker who prefers anonymity. While he brings a cup of coffee to his lips, he smiles with irony and adds: “The provincial headquarters of the PCC [Cuban Communist Party] is just there,” and he points to some lights a few meters away.

The comment is not isolated. Parents, artists, technicians and theater managers share the same frustration. It is not just the impossibility of rehearsing or presenting performances, but an implicit message: culture, childhood and art are not priorities. continue reading

It is not just the impossibility of rehearsing or presenting performances, but an implicit message: culture, childhood and art are not priorities

The children who came to the theater with the hope of seeing a puppet show, accompanied by parents who strive during the week to offer them moments of healthy recreation, found the doors closed, lights out, curtains down. “Then we and the kids put our heads in our hands. Places where children can grow up with sensitivity are not valued,” continues the same worker.

The Teatro de las Estaciones is not just any institution. Founded by maestros Rubén Darío Salazar and Zenén Calero, it has been for decades a quarry of creativity and sensitivity for generations of Cubans. Its members have taken the puppetry technique to unexpected levels, combining tradition and avant-garde, raising the genre to a level of respect and recognition. “I don’t say it only because I work here,” insists a woman from Mantanzas. “I say it because we have built it with a lot of effort, with every rehearsal, with every performance under the sun and under the blackouts.”

The work, entitled A Trail in the Stars (Invisible poems to say at twilight), started from the verses of Asteroid B612 by writer José Manuel Espino – a book that pays homage to Saint-Exupéry’s immortal classic. The company has had to suspend performances, adjust rehearsals and reinvent the calendar because of power cuts. But more than a technical contingency, what is perceived is a deep fracture: the lack of equity in the distribution of energy.

The authorities have implemented a rotation system that, according to the official discourse, seeks “equity” in the distribution of electricity. In practice, however, the perception is different. Some neighborhoods barely suffer cuts, while others live among candles, exhausted batteries and silent refrigerators.

Art, like the flower of the Little Prince, needs care. It does not survive without light, without attention, without a space to flourish

Art, like the flower of the Little Prince, needs care. It does not survive without light, without attention, without a space to flourish. And although the rulers proclaim from the grandstands the importance of culture and healthy recreation, administrative decisions contradict that discourse. “They talk about culture as a shield, like a sword, but here we feel forgotten,” says another member of the artistic collective.

And this is not just a cultural anecdote. It is a reflection of how the blackouts – that word so present in Cuban daily life – affect not only domestic life, but also the social fabric, the mood, the soul of the nation. Because when the theaters go out, it’s not just the light bulbs.

Artists don’t ask for privileges. They ask for minimum conditions to do their work, one that often fills educational, emotional and spiritual gaps. In a country where childhood is surrounded by scarcity and uncertainty, theater is something more than a respite.

“We are not a priority. That is clear. But at least don’t keep telling us that we are,” one of the actors concludes with resignation. While in some neighborhoods the air conditioning does not stop buzzing, in others, as in this theater, the heart of Matanzas, the only thing you hear is the silence of a performance that was not. A flower that could not be watered, a child who did not know the fox, an asteroid without light.

Translated by Regina Anavy

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Lobito, the Star of Matanzas’ Narváez Promenade, Has Died

“Life is difficult for humans, what can we expect for stray animals?”

Lobito, like other stray dogs, was art of the environment of the Matanzas boulevard.

14ymedio, Pablo Padilla Cruz, Matanzas, 15 June 2025 — Lobito was a mixed-breed dog, a sato, without a pedigree. Even so, his death last week, when a door fell and struck him, dismayed the workers on Narváez Avenue in the city of Matanzas, who were accustomed to feeding him and watching him frolic with bar patrons.

Lobito arrived on Narváez Avenue after passing through several homes. The Animal Welfare (BAC) staff in Matanzas had taken him in as a puppy, covered in sores. They treated him, bathed him, and tried to put him up for adoption, but Lobito never adapted. “What he liked most was running around the streets and playing with the bar patrons, who gave him food and sometimes held his paw. Little by little, along with other street dogs, he became part of the Matanzas boulevard scene,” says Yordani, a bartender at one of the street cafes.

“A worker at the Artys bar, where the accident happened, told me about it. When I started working here, he was already here. Every day, we brought him his lunch and his dinner along with ours. He was part of the team, not just at this bar but at most of the bars in the area,” explains the young man from Matanzas.

Lobito, he recalls, had “free access” to a few establishments, where he took refuge from the heat and entertained diners. “Surprisingly, he didn’t bother the customers; on the contrary, they were the ones who most often called him over and even asked to take pictures with him,” he says. Tourists also photographed him, or he was seen playing with some children, trying to steal a ball from them. continue reading

The stray dog wasn’t the only one with a reputation on the boulevard either. “There was Firulais, who went viral when a quinceañera took some studio photos with him, and the story was reported in a Spanish magazine. We also had El Rubio and his girlfriend, who we weren’t sure if they were dating or not, but they always lay down together to take a nap in some shaded area along the promenade,” says Yordani. Little by little, some due to illness and others due to accidents, Narváez’s community pets began to disappear.

The city’s animal rights activists never stopped caring for Lobito. According to Yordani, “they always kept him clean and took care of his health” despite the lack of resources and institutional support they’ve suffered since the association’s founding a few years ago.

BAC members, mostly young people, not only make their own resources and pockets available to stray or abandoned animals, but were also the ones who pushed – with a demonstration in front of the Ministry of Agriculture in Havana – for the creation of an Animal Welfare law that was finally approved in 2021. However, interviewed by 14ymedio , some of the young people are not satisfied with the law.

“It’s already outdated and no longer serves the purpose for which it was created,” says one BAC activist. “It’s as if it was created to silence the demands of animal lovers,” adds another.

El Rubio and his girlfriend were also on the promenade.

The young people lament that the crisis the island is mired in, which leaves little room for anything but daily survival, has worsened the situation for domestic animals. “Life is difficult for humans, what can we expect for stray animals? Many of us activists take part of our wages to buy medicine, pay for surgeries, and transport not only our own but also these other animals in critical condition,” the animal rights activist explains. “An operation for a cat can cost over 20,000 pesos and is generally only performed in the capital.”

While acknowledging that many have become aware of the precarious conditions faced by stray animals, he also admits that Cuba is “in its infancy” compared to many countries around the world and on the continent. Lobito is proof of that.

The youth lament that the crisis the island is experiencing has worsened the situation of domestic animals.

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