Estamos en Puerto Rico! (Day 3)

After dozing and half-listening to the chickens socializing a few feet from my head as the sun came up, I opened my eyes and unzipped the tent flap to this:

I know.  Life is hard, sometimes.  We did our morning chores (I feel bad for Bill, next time he tries to unload and set up that tent...we're girls, what can I say) and walked over to visit Mari, who served us up a mess of eggs and toast and cafe con leche and coconut bread and the most mouthwateringly delicious guava and cheese empanadilla (turnover).  

Time to rendezvous, so we walked along this:

until we arrived here:

Welcome to Gilligan's Island!  Let's just say that one of my first contacts upon returning to the mainland was the guy that is building my house, letting him know that my houseplan needed to be modified to include a deep front porch, big enough for a hammock and a couple of fans and chairs.  And probably something along the lines of those shells.

Today was our chill day; we took plenty of time to discuss what we wanted to do. Hey, that hammock needed some utilization, what can I say?  We finally bestirred ourselves to call Aramis, who picked us up in his trusty Pathfinder and deposited Bill and all of our gear at the local coffee shop and Anna and me at Carlos' Jeep Rentals, where we picked up a golf cart and took off to explore the island.  

Side note, in my opinion, Culebra would be an awesome place for a family vacation.  The villas (as demonstrated above) are adorable, the beaches are fantastic and offer plenty of opportunities for whatever floats the boat, whether relaxing or activities, and yet, the vibe is laid back and the island is very small, and thus pretty safe and manageable.  Load up the kids in a golf cart or two, go swimming at Zoni or snorkeling at Tamarindo, have lunch at the kioskos, go shopping and have dinner in Dewey, and round out the day listening to the coquis on your front porch... Not bad, I'd say.  Makes me want to hit my folks and siblings up for a long weekend this winter...

Anyway, I was driving the golf cart, so my co-pilot and navigator grabbed a couple "side-of-the-road" pictures:

Poor golf cart.  We conveniently ignored the little paragraph that said golf carts weren't recommended at Zoni Beach and headed for...Zoni Beach.  (I love how mellow Puerto Rican waivers are.  No teeth whatsoever.  I also love how chill the attendants were about watching this first-time golf-cart driver go lurching out of their parking lot and down the road.)

Once a personal trainer, always a personal trainer...

After a nice, refreshing swim (I tried, but I couldn't keep up with her), we headed back to town, hauling a couple of beachgoers back with us.  It was getting to be time to start thinking about the ferry again (remember the saga from yesterday?), but now, we were hungry and hot, it was 3 o'clock in the afternoon, meaning most restaurants were closed, we had a golf cart to return, and mountains of stuff to haul to the ferry terminal and keep track of.  No worries!  A vacationing family overheard our dilemma and jumped in to add their two cents... The matron of the family proposed a solution: hija would stand guard over our luggage while mama drove Bill and Kim in the family mini-van to the closest restaurant, after which she would pick Anna and me up at the jeep rental place, drop us off at the restaurant, run hermana to Flamenco Beach, come back to the restaurant, pick us plus our food up and deposit us back at the terminal, all while keeping up a running stream of commentary full of such choice tidbits as how to cure everything from diabetes to earache with nothing but houseplants and various teas.  Out of curiosity, when was the last time you ran errands for random strangers you met on the side of the road, and when was the last time random strangers ran errands for you?  (I find myself gently convicted - maybe I could stand to give just a little bit more of myself to the people I meet?)

So yes, that's what we did, ran hither and thither and devoured chuletas (fried pork chops) and rice and beans and grouper bites and Fanta grape soda along the way, and then came back and repeated the whole ferry process, which was much easier this time.  Oh, and we got some incredibly refreshing coconut ice cream from the elderly gentleman ringing his bell and hawking his wares up and down the line.

I was hot and tired and didn't entirely trust my stomach to behave during the rocky ferry ride back to Fajardo, so I dozed, all the while listening to what sounded like some sort of festive family reunion going on around me (cackling grandmas; music and singing, fits of good-natured shouting and uproarious laughter), the combination of which (dozing and eavesdropping) wrapped me in a cocoon of warmth.

We disembarked as twilight descended, negotiated the loading of our gear, the paying of our two-day parking bill ($11.25) to our friend from the Bronx, and headed back towards San Juan, fueled by a coffee and water stop at Church's Fried Chicken.  (Here is where Anna and I discovered our real kinship - to all outward appearances, we are bound by a shared love of adventure and fun, when the reality is, it is our shared desire for order, direction and cleanliness, also known as mild OCD, that makes us ideal traveling buddies.)

Our home base for the next two days was a very comfortable condo on the fifth floor of the Ashford Imperial, located in the heart of Candado, just around the corner from Bill and Kim's adorable ground-floor apartment.  (I am wretchedly sorry - I get to enjoying myself and I forget to take pictures.)  

Another side note, I found this condo on AirBnB - my first time using the site.  Such an awesome concept - free-market capitalism at its finest, and it worked beautifully for me - AirBnB will definitely be part of my future travel plans.

Anyway, an hour and a heavenly shower later, we reconvened and headed off towards Old San Juan and dinner at Carli's.  For starters, Bill drove, which, aside from being a lovely respite from the stress of negotiating heavy traffic in an unknown land, afforded ample opportunity to enjoy the passing scenery, which in this case was the wonders of the streets of downtown San Juan.  He deposited us a few blocks from our destination, so we got to walk for a bit, what would end up being my only exposure to Old San Juan.  The architecture was fascinating - such history held inside those walls!  Besides, it was 10:00 on a Saturday night and the people were out in force (some more sober than others).  The noise ceased and the mood changed as soon as we entered the temple of jazz that is Carli's, though.  

Picture soft lighting, muted colors, delicious smells, an elderly Dominican waiter oozing old-school charm, and a full-on jazz trio playing terrific live music.  That would be the jewel box that is Carli's.  We sank back in our chairs and savored the whole experience, a parade of entrees and desserts and double-shots of espresso with lime and brown sugar (that were really a coffee event more than anything) and then lipsmackingly delicious little glasses of papaya and coconut and guava, whipped up specially for us by our waiter (Faustio?), who, of course, goes way back with Bill and Kim, all accompanied by the music made by the guy who used to play with the Beach Boys (you never would guess it looking at or listening to him).

Risotto with Pumpkin and Shrimp

And then, it was back to the condo, where I positively staggered to bed and promptly collapsed.

Estamos en Puerto Rico! (Day 2)

I believe I shall illustrate over the course of the next few posts why I neglected to update the blog regularly...  (In other words, wimp that I am, I caved to human frailty and devoted the precious few hours that we weren't tearing around the island to...sleep.)

Sooooo, we last parted company on the rooftop of the Moonlight Bay Hostel.  Detractors may turn up their noses at the overly sociable living arrangements, the puppy roaming the halls, the gentle but ever-present olor de orina, but my bed was clean and comfortable, and I slept tolerably well, considering I haven't slept on a top bunk, tucked up under the ceiling, since I was, maybe, eight?  I have no regrets.  It was a new experience, unlike anything I've done before, and one of those things that make a person feel just a leetle bit more alive.  (I chuckle as I write this... I do realize that there is a huge slice of society for whom sleeping in a hostel is no big deal.  I, however, come from solid Midwestern stock, and for us corn-fed middle Americans, sleeping in a hostel is downright shocking.)

Bottom line, it didn't matter a whole lot, because we were up at 5:30 the next morning.  Puerto Rican culture is awesome and full of quirks.  One illustration of this awesomeness is the ferry system.  If one wishes to travel to Culebra or Vieques via the 9:00 AM ferry, one must begin standing in line at approximately 6:00 AM.  Then, possession of a ticket does not guarantee one admission to the ferry itself; apparently there is no need to correlate the number of tickets sold to the number of spaces available on the ferry - buy a ticket and best of luck to you is the general mantra.  Nor are the rules concerning baggage set in stone - you may think you bought enough tickets for your tents and bags and camping gear, but if the guy standing watch at the terminal doesn't think so, back to the ticket counter you go.  (I speak with the authority of experience on this topic in particular.)

It was all OK, though,because, this being Puerto Rico, we had a new friend to keep us company.  Edgar had passed me in the shadowy, early-morning half-light of the hostel stairwell as I waited for Anna, which, of course, made us old pals by the time we got to the ferry line.  A few hours later, after navigating the ticketing and boarding process together, grabbing coffee and then hanging out during the hour-long boat ride, we were swapping contact information and making plans to meet up later.  We never saw the guy again, but he certainly enlivened the whole process, and provided an introduction to what I came to realize was the normal way of life on this little territory.  Apparently, friends are easy to make here.  

The ferry.

By now, it was after 10 AM, and it was time to address our first order of business, and an introduction to another of the joys of traveling with the Becker family.  Food and coffee happen regularly and are matters of great importance.  First stop:

Directly across the street from the ferry terminal.  (I can think of worse places to get a little work done?)

Bill and Kim ordered coffee and Anna went for a full-on breakfast of oatmeal, eggs and sausage.  I was famished but wanted to leave room to explore the kioskos I kept hearing about, so I opted for the lighter route - a cream-filled pastry and cafe con leche.  Another indicator of things to come - in all of our time on the islands, we ate at not a single fast-food or even chain restaurant.  Being hungry is never a problem in Puerto Rico - no matter where you roam, no matter how isolated or out-of-the-way the road you find yourself on, there is bound to be a panaderia (bakery) or coffee shop or lechoneria (for barbecue) or pescaderia (for fish) nearby, or at the very least, some enterprising soul set up along the side of the road selling pollo asada (roasted chicken) or fruit or frappes (smoothies).

We loaded our gear into a publico (bus) and rode to the Flamenco Beach campgrounds, where we met Henri, who sang "One More Night" as he logged us in and demonstrated quite the sleight of hand in slipping us our campsite for free.  Then it was off to the kioskos (food stands), where we ordered pinchos (kebabs) and tostones (plantain fritters) and frappes and met Bill's amiga Mari, who serves her food piping hot and calls her customers "mi corazon" (my heart).  My love affair deepened...

After we'd eaten, we hauled all of THAT gear to our campsite. (Camping is an unwieldy business, let me tell you. The romance of traveling light, living off the land and the contents of a single, featherweight backpack gives way to the reality of the mountains of stuff needed for even the loosest definition of comfort).

One of the scenic attractions along the path to our campsite.

Our campsite.

The view from our campsite.  Yeah.  Kim apologized for the seaweed.  My heart somehow remained unbroken...

Then, at long last, we hit the trails (braving the clouds of mosquitoes the size of small Volkswagens) to Tamarindo Beach, where it was time to break in our brand-new snorkel gear.  (As a side note, I cannot tell you how elated I am to have become the sort of person whose luggage contains sleeping bags and swim fins.  Just saying.)

The following few photos are of the beaches we snorkeled from.  I did not have an underwater camera, so I was unable to record the sights we saw through our goggles.  I will say this.  If you've ever hiked in the mountains, you know that feeling you get, sometimes, where you think, "My God, your majesty and power and the wonder of your creation is utterly and breathtakingly amazing"?  I had the exact same sensation as I swam above the reefs - it was nearly silent; all I could hear was the sound of my own breathing.  I was surrounded by a splendid array of life forms in all sorts of shapes and sizes and in the most gloriously vibrant of colors; I watched the coral as it swayed with the tides and I was overcome once again with a love and admiration for my Heavenly Creator; He who would spread such glory there, beneath the surface where few ever see.  I've said it before and I'll say it again - I love Him with all of my heart.

The first picture is from Playa Tamarindo (Tamarindo Beach) and the second two are from Carlos Rosario Beach, where, as you can see, it was starting to get a little overcast.  (The weather was painfully familiar - hot and humid, with clear mornings steadily developing into rainy afternoons.)  Snorkeling at one beach was a completely different experience from snorkeling at the other - Tamarindo was more intimate; the reefs were located closer to the surface, and there was more color and variety.  On the other hand, the reef at Carlos Rosario was bigger and deeper and much more dramatic; one found oneself constantly looking over one's shoulder - who knows what lurks in those caves and drop-offs and grotesque forms?  I don't think much about those silent creatures of the deep with the big teeth and sharp vertical fins while I'm snorkeling; I suddenly remembered them while I was underwater at Carlos Rosario.  

After a couple of hours' worth of exploration, we trekked back to our campsite.  Bill and Anna grabbed a plate of shark pinchos, Anna and I cleaned up (outdoor showers for the win!), and Aramis, a friend of the guy who owned the condo next to Bill and Kim's picked us all up and hauled us into town. (I kid you not.  Random guy, friend of another random guy, picks us up in his Pathfinder, drives us where we need to go, and gives us his cell number in case we need his services again.)  We ate dinner at Mamacita's (ceviche, fried rice, fish and a decent chocolate creation - exhaustion was setting in and I was a little slow on the camera draw).  Coffee is a rare commodity on the island, especially after dinner, but our waiter pointed us to a little bar a couple of blocks down the street.  We waded through the boisterous families gathered around the entrance and the old guys yakking it up at the counter, ordered double shots, and were rewarded with some of the most delicious coffee I've drank in my life, made to order and served in little white cups and saucers, accompanied by tiny spoons.  I tried to hurry out of courtesy to my traveling companions, but I wanted to make mine last for a very long time.

Aramis picked us up and dropped us off at our respective sleeping quarters - Bill and Kim at the villas (which you shall see more of in the next post) and Anna and me at our campsite.  We made our way down the path, past the family reunion going strong in Section B and out to our quiet little corner in Section E, where, after some very rudimentary ablutions, we were lulled to sleep by the sounds of the wind passing through the branches above our heads and the waves lapping the shore a few feet from our sleeping bags.

Estamos en Puerto Rico! (Day 1)

Well, it's midnight and I'm sitting in a beach chair on the rooftop of a hostel, accompanied by somebody's black puppy, listening to the music from the venue next door wafting over on the breeze, smelling the salt air and watching the occasional passer-by.  It's been a long day, but somehow, I'm not quite sleepy yet.

My friend Anna's parents spend a lot of time in Puerto Rico and love the place like a second home; we've often talked about coming down and hanging out with them for awhile, and now, we've finally done it.  Starting today, it's time to make this little island's acquaintance.

If there's one refrain that repeats itself when Bill and Kim (Anna's parents) sing Puerto Rico's praises, it's the warm-hearted, fun-loving nature of the island's inhabitants.  That may or may not be the case; time will very soon tell.  I've had a couple of clues already, though - the guy who spontaneously danced a jig while waiting in line behind me to board the plane, and the entire back of the plane breaking into applause as we touched down... neither are occurrences I've observed elsewhere.  I like this.

The flight over was exceptionally nice.  Instead of having to overcome my personal space issues by being crammed into a six-inch space between two other human beings of varying sizes, I was so happy to get a window seat - a rare treat.  Too, this time, it meant I got to watch the island come into view - the sun had just set and I could see land, carpeted with twinkling lights, surrounded by the mysterious dark of the ocean.  It was beautiful.  I was an idiot and didn't take any pictures.  I'm determined to do better starting tomorrow.
We disembarked and I immediately felt like I'd entered a different country.  Well, the same, and different.  All of the signs in the airport were bilingual and it was reasonably easy to negotiate baggage claims and passenger pick-up, but once we left the premises, it became immediately clear that we weren't in Kansas anymore.  Thank goodness, Bill and Kim were there to take us under their wing, because yours truly was very rapidly shrinking into a timid little chickie.  Bill drove us over to the car rental agency and helped us navigate that whole thing, kicked our bumper to test for duct-tape-and-baling-wire contingencies, and then led us to a place of nourishment.  Also, thank goodness for those two semesters of college Spanish I took.  Thanks to them, I'm not having too much trouble navigating road signs and store displays, but there just isn't much English out and about.  On the bright side, my feminine confidence is soaring.  I haven't been this thoroughly checked out by this many males...ever?  At the moment, I'm somewhere on the spectrum between feeling flattered and like a piece of meat.

Anyway, Bill and Kim led us (via a tortuously complicated route through a maze of narrow roads populated by screeching traffic) to Sweet Anne Cakes.  We arrived just before closing time, so our waitress came over and told us what we could eat - pork? chicken? turkey? rice? yes, I can get you some vegetables... Anna ordered some chicken and vegetables and I ordered some pork and rice and beans, which were starchy and protein-y and thoroughly hit the spot.  Bill and Kim watched us eat for a bit, and then we raided the pastry cases and chased that down with delicious Puerto Rican coffee.

Anna needed her almonds and bananas and dried fruit (the girl is a machine), so Bill led us to Super Max (Puerto Rico's ubiquitous grocery chain) and she shopped while I trailed around, fascinated by everything I saw - plenty of familiar items, and plenty more that they don't stock in my neck of the woods.  Gets those curious juices flowing, it does...

Then it was goodbye to our protectors and Anna and I struck out for Fajardo, which is where we spend the night tonight.  By this time, I was pretty tightly wound, with the whole traffic and language thing - I won't deny I was a little nervous watching them disappear.  It was funny, though; once I successfully navigated San Juan traffic and got out on the open road, I got my groove back and things went from scary back to exciting.  We made it to Fajardo, although I was bummed that it was dark and I couldn't see anything...

And now, after a lengthy chat with the Puerto Rican-via-the-Bronx parking lot attendant (I start to see what Kim means about these island people), we are safely installed in our hostel for the night.  I'm sleeping in the top bunk for the first time in a very long time.  I expect to sleep pretty well.  And then we're up tomorrow morning at 5:30 to make the ferry to Culebra, where we'll spend a day or two snorkeling and spearfishing and exploring and...camping!  Good stuff in store...