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.
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