My room smells of mariposas, lovely! Dinner was late as Ivón´s mother had a bad fall and is not well. Ivón tried to get her some medication but I don´t think she managed. She asked if I had some painkillers and I gave her some. Even something simple like Ibuprofen is very hard to get, apparently.

In the evening on the way to Siete Mares (I was going to ask if anyone wanted to join me to go to the concert) I bumped into Frank and his friend, Franscisco... Frank is the kind of guy you may just as well meet on the street in London or New York. He speaks very good English and he´s got a lot of street cred. His friend could have been Coolio´s darker little brother, with wild hair and a basketball shirt.

We had a drink at Los Siete Mares but nobody else came, so in the end I decided to join them alone (sometimes you just have to go with your instinct). On the way there we talked about hiphop, as Francisco seemed to be a big fan. There´s something strange about talking to two Cuban guys about MC Solaar, Grandmaster Flash, Run DMC and LL Cool J´s earlier work, but they were duly impressed. Frank did also ask if I liked Celine Dijon...

We went to the Auditorium, a beautiful concert hall where lots of Cubans were shaking their bottoms to Cuban reggae (One song was called: Yo soy rastaman. Really!) and going nuts when some Bart Peeters type person, a stand up comedian called Andy or Henry Ochoa, started singing about ´Mucho calor en Habana´(a lot of heat in Havana.) I don´t think Frank liked it very much. He´s a musician himself and was criticising the musicians on stage.

It was really cool, they didn´t try to get drinks out of me, they didn´t try to chat me up, they didn´t even kiss me goodnight when they dropped me off, so they´re really cool guys, both of them.