PR4D5 - All good things must come to an end.

We woke up late, slowly packing and taking turns in the coffin-sized shower, before walking back to the airport for our Midday flight. This time, we stopped midway for icecream. It was a fantastic idea. A more fantastic idea would have been to rent a golf cart or a jeep so we didn't have to walk everywhere, but live and learn.

We hung around in the breeze and shade outside the airport, waiting for our flight and for a car/scooter to crash while climbing the steep hill opposite. (Un?)fortunately, they all made it.  The flight itself flew over the ferry, the port of Fajardo, and the highway we crossed from San Juan. It was like watching our travel in reverse-fast-forward (Back in the old days, we had these rectangular DVDs called VHS tapes...)

We parked on the Tarmac at San Juan and were escorted in a back door, passing through some of the underbelly of the airport (with luggage conveyors everywhere! I would take this tour).  Then it became the traditional airport pattern of layover-meal-flight, layover-meal-flight.

Truth be told, I have no idea how I held it together today.  I think a lot of it was I knew I'd be with Brice most of the day, so the goodbye's wouldn't come til later.  Plus, taking a puddle-jumper from island-to-island is half the fun of being on an actual island, so since my weight put me in the fortuitous position of window-seat, Brice trusted me with his camera and I relentlessly documented our flight.

As I've said before, Brice is always able to stay calm and carefree during stressful times, which enabled me to enjoy the last moments of Puerto Rico--hearing the last bird songs, watching the last lizards waddle from shade to shade, and taking a last look at the ocean.  Even he was impressed with how well I kept it together.  I didn't cry until we said our goodbyes at the layover, a stranger actually asked if I was okay. I know the sounds of Puerto Rico, particularly the waves (and roosters), will stay with me.

PR4 Day 4 - To Culebra!

We woke early to catch a taxi to the airport. After yesterday's trouble finding a tour I was apprehensive, but this went way better than expected.  We shared the cab with two... Germans? who were only 30 minutes early and very worried they would not make their flight. I don't think they've flown from Vieques before.

We got out of the cab, walked up to our counter, and checked in. They then weighed us and our bags, and we proceeded to the gate.  After a short wait, our plane arrived, and we finally went past security - which was a guard with a key to the tarmac. I love minuscule airports so much.

The flight from Vieques to Culebra is my favorite in the world. It is, in fact, half the reason we went to Culebra.  By merit of having the appropriate bodyweight, Lis got to sit up front with the pilot! I sat behind her for the 6 minute flight, which was practically an aerial tour of the islands. And then for the landing, we had to shoot a gap between two hills, crab sideways, and touch down. Definitely my favorite airport.

We walked into town, grabbed brunch, and set about finding a boat to take us over to Culebrita.

The plan was to find a water taxi and enjoy one of the mini islands with white sand beaches where few people are able to make it.  There's no food or water on the island, so you have to take everything with you for the day.  This IS the kind of beach they put on tourist videos.  However, we vastly misunderstood what a water taxi was by focusing on the "taxi" part... you know, someone who transports people as needed.  There was a time in Puerto Rico's economy where this was the case.  But like the bio bay, this service seems to have become popular enough to be fully booked day-to-day, but not popular enough to have a supply that meets the demand of impromptu customers.  We waited until almost noon to see if someone would come, while I googled every variant of "water taxi Culebrita" and "Culebra to Culebrita" I could think of.  I called about twenty numbers to no avail.  This was another indicator that the economy is evolving while the culture maintains "island pace."

(Lis)

One of Brice's greatest strengths is his ability to peacefully accept unfortunate circumstances beyond his control and look at the bright side.  He talked me out of getting stressed and led the way to our air bnb (a quiet, seaside duplex).  It was hard to figure out which unit it was, as the management had changed and the numbering was inconsistent. (Turns out we were in number starfish, which was the same as number seahorse).  But once we dropped off our bags, we decided to have an island-pace day.  We set up the hammock, and Brice read his sci-fi while I went back and forth between Pedro Paramo and a clever skit that I was writing.  We took frequent breaks to snack and stare at the lizards, birds, hermit crabs, and gently blowing palm trees.

(Lis)

That night, Brice took me to a seaside bar, one that he'd remembered from his last visit.  We each chose different fish, and when we were done, the waiter advised us to throw the carcasses into the bay, as the gigantic cannibal fish loved tearing into them. Feeding the Tarpon was childish fun, like throwing french fries to seagulls, but it was awesome. Those kids have life figured out.

 


After dinner, we walked out onto the dock (which still didn't have any water taxis), to watch the boats bob in the moonlight, and decided it wasn't time to go home yet.  So we went back to the bar and knocked back a few cocktails while retelling our favorite stories/overtly people-watching. I did have one moment of panic when I desperately needed to pee but didn't know if - based on the illustrated door signs - I was an octopus or not. Luckily when I looked around the other option was a mermaid, which made the problem much simpler.

Finally, we walked back to our condo, relax in the night air and eventually heading to bed.

PR4 Day 3 - Vieques

Today's the big day! The day when we do all the things!

There's a prank called a "Duck Bomb"  where you boobytrap a dozen fake chickens to produce a continuous cacophony. In Vieques, our day started at 6:13 am to the biological analogue. In cartoons, the sun rises, the rooster crows, and life moves on.  In practice, the sun comes up, the rooster crows, and then every other rooster on the island spends the next five minutes trying to prove he can be louder.

Two hours later, we woke again and set out to find a bio-luminescent bay tour.  None of the shops had opened, but we found breakfast at a restaurant where we could keep an eye on everything. We were shortly joined by other couples with similar ideas.  Eventually, shops started opening, and we learned that everything truly was booked solid this week. Looking back, I blame spring break - my brother had no problems a few weeks previously. Live and learn.

Instead of renting a kayak, we rented mountain bikes, hoping that we could stealth our way into mosquito bay that evening. In the mean time, we figured we'd hit our other two Vieques goals: the black sand beach and the sugar plantation ruins.

This is about when I learned I was not slightly sick. It's easy to shrug off a  ̶c̶o̶l̶d̶  sinus infection when you're drinking painkillers* at a bar. When you're hustling a mountain bike and a gallon of water up some tropical hills in the midday sun.... then it catches up with you.
 *Equal parts Pineapple juice, Orange juice, and (light/dark) rum. Garnish with nutmeg. Not an oxycodone milkshake.

Only two miles later (it felt like 5), we arrived at the parking lot for the black sand beach. Sucking down air and water, we chained the bikes and set off down an abandoned lot towards the beach!  We of course closed the unlocked gate behind us, frustrating the old white mare eyeballing all the wild grass.

Around a curve in the path we found out this wasn't an abandoned lot after all. A woman very politely yelled at us to turn around, get out of her yard, and to take the path under the rail bridge. Squinting through sweat into the sun, I noted she had a large, blurry, black and brown object resting on her hip, approximately the size and shape of a shotgun. I resisted my urge to dare her to put me out of my misery, and thanked her for her guidance.

My Tree! And Lis in the distance.

We found the bridge (with a guard rail) a stone's-throw from her gate. And it even had signs for "Playa Negra" that we had completely missed in our initial hypoxic approach. After a mile hike down a dry streambed (it felt like 5) we arrived at the black sand beach.  It was beautiful. I sat down under a palm tree to drink some water and wait for death.

For the next half hour all I did was discover that the black sand is magnetic, so I'll let Lis tell this part:

Brice and his tree in the distance. -Lis

Playa Negra gave you the thrill of being marooned.  It felt forgotten, bedraggled, left in peace.  Not a beach they put on tourism commercials.  The ground is not gentle beneath your feet. There are splintered palm leaves in the sand, crabs scuffling in and out of holes in the woods behind you, dried seaweed collecting in unnerving clumps, ants bubbling in and out of the black sand.  It's the perfect place to be left alone.

Leaving Brice under a tree to rest, I wandered ankle-deep in the surf, making sure to watch my step for urchins.  However, with all the seaweed and rocks, it was hard to see where I was stepping.  So I made sure to not wander too far.  Only far enough to reach an interesting porous rock that I would have climbed if I hadn't been so insistent on leaving my shoes behind.

Slightly reinvigorated, we set off back up the streambed and on towards the Sugar Mill, passing the actually abandoned lot a quarter mile past our misadventure. Setting a slower pace this leg and exploring just how low the gear ratio on the bike would go, we set off for the sugar mill ruins. Our choice was two miles off road skirting the Over-The-Horizon Radar base, or 7 miles on road climbing over the island. Two miles later (it felt like five), we arrived!

(Lis)

After locking the bikes we climbed into the woods. Making it to the ruins, I sat down under a tree to die for a bit.  I didn't see much except for the Lizard who jumped on me, so I'll let Lis cover this part.

As soon as we got to the ruins, I felt like a cat discovering a new maze. It appeared at first like just a single large, broken-down room.  "This is your Great Valley?" (Apparently this is a land before time quote?) But as we got deeper into the woods, we also got deeper into the ruins. Once we found a spot where Brice could relax it was time for me to start exploring properly.

The trees have grown so much into the ruins that they look like hair.  It's times like this where I feel how wrong it is to talk about our buildings as if they are a separate entity from "the environment."  Whether it's a bird's nest, a beaver damn, or a city, everything eventually gets abandoned and taken over by the elements.  At the plantation we saw this thought-provoking  process in action.
 

(Lis)

The walls crumbled like egg shells over the last hundred years.  It was unnerving to climb on them or crawl beneath an arch. But of course that didn't stop me. My favorite feature was the colossal gear, six feet across. And yes...I crawled under and above it.  Ill-advised.  Brice might be wondering where I am...  *Checks phone*  Oh, I have no service.  Hm.  I basically remember where he is.

Oh, I forgot I have zero sense of direction.

"MARCO?!"

...

"POLO!"






After Lis finished exploring, we had to reverse our progress with a 4 mile marathon back (which somehow also felt like 5 miles). Trading off the lead, greedily swerving for any shade available, we set off on the slowest bike race of my life, making it back to the house around 2pm.  After drinking some water and doing nothing for a while, we finally ate the lunch we'd packed.  Afterwards, I crashed out for a nap while Lis went down to the beach.

(Lis)

While Brice attempted to sleep off his fever, I cleaned up and decided to head down to the beach, armed with my camera and poetry books.  I told him I'd be back for dinner, and sent him my location in case he felt good enough to join.  This was one of my favorite times in Puerto Rico.  There was barely anyone on the beach, but unlike the dilapidated nature of black sands beach, this beach was as vibrant as you could get without a snorkel.  The water lapped over large rocks covered in shells and seaweed, and urchins quietly looked up with their single red eye...which I have just been informed is a mouth.  I carefully made my way to one of the exposed rocks to listen to the water lightly drag itself back and forth.  I don't know how much research has been conducted about the meditative affects of cyclical water sounds, but... damn.

Then it got even better because Brice joined me! We moved to an area with more shade so we could relax, waiting until the sunset was ideal for pictures.  In the meantime, we talked about whether or not either of us could live on an island long-term.  Brice explained that he could easily live on an island, that the slow pace and the calm, relaxing atmosphere is an ideal habitat. Something about let tomorrow worry about tomorrow, and can anyone by worrying add a single hour to their life?  Some important person said that once.  I wanted to agree, though I prefer to vacation slow and live fast(ish). Deadlines and large populations make me feel important/needed.  Though, I don't know...looking back at these pictures, it's hard to say that again.

After our mandatory existential musings, my inner child was ready to examine rocks and shells, and see if I could skip any. (Well?) (Yes!)

With the beach fully in shadows we went across the street for dinner. It was stunningly peaceful. Having a glass of wine and watching the world darken I finally understood how easy it could be to meet Death with a smile when he eventually comes.

The stillness set into our bones as the cadence of night fluttered around--the tink of plates being washed, murmured conversations rising and falling, the wind brushing through the sea.  Sometimes time disappears and you momentarily step into eternity.

It was a gorgeous night for seeing the bio-bay. Cloudless, no moon, and no light pollution.  ̶U̶n̶ Fortunately, I was too  ̶e̶x̶h̶a̶u̶s̶t̶e̶d̶ ̶  smart to bike into the swamp, but those conditions also made it ideal for skywatching.

 

After dinner we walked across the pitch black beach and out a pier to see if we could spot any dinoflagellates.  We couldn't, but the stars were clear enough that I saw the Milky Way for the first time.  When fishermen (and their flashlights) came to the dock,  we strolled to a quiet spot on the shore and laid down just in time to catch a shooting star.  We discussed star age, constellations, and life for hours.  I didn't want to go back, but we needed our sleep for an early day tomorrow.

PR4 Day 2 - To the Islands!

After yesterday's hiking, we planned to take it easier today.  After sleeping in, we set out to find the peacock. He was super easy to find, but stubbornly refused to flaunt his plumage. We also checked in with the parrots, who didn't swear at all! The hotel must have replaced the (in)famous orator with a more family-friendly bird. Anyways, after checking out ("I hope you enjoyed your stay, Mr and Mrs Farrell" the hostess said, as Lis melted into a puddle of happiness) we grabbed a taxi to the port city of Fajardo.

Hoping to show Lis more of PR and recapture my old trip, I decided we should take the ferry to the islands. I think it worked. We saw the mountains/rainforests of El Yunque with their weird flowering trees as we drove past. Then we got to stand in line for tickets, before standing in line even longer waiting for our boat... I may have captured more of my last experience for Lis than I meant to. It was however nice to be forced to slow down and go at an island pace, where things get done when they get done.

Maybe even more than the events, I remember the transition moments.  Partly because we spent a lot of time walking, but also because those times where nothing was happening were the best times to soak up the milieu.  The distant trumpet of roosters, the fan-sized leaves on trees, the way a flock of cars were all aware of each other and could weave in & out without signals.

The ferry trip was largely uneventful, except for the whale sighting! Instantly, half the passengers swarmed the port windows, watching as the water frothed.  Luckily my vast experience with whales (namely, I'd seen one before), clued me in to the whale-shaped rock's very non-cetacean behavior, so I just watched the drama unfolding in the cabin (all crowded on the port side) as they gradually realized what they were seeing.  After a massive self-deprecating laugh, one of the passengers pointed to starboard and yelled, "Look!  Another one!"

It began drizzling as we arrived at Isabella Segundo (so perhaps it was fortunate there was no outdoor ferry seating) and we immediately jumped in a shared cab across the Island to Esperanza. On the way we stopped to drop a couple off at the W which looked gorgeous. We may have to do that next time. (Just checked the rates. We will not be doing that next time.) 

We dropped our bags off and wandered down to the boardwalk for a mid-afternoon meal.  We found an oceanfront bar and I was immediately stunned by the difference from my last visit. Far from being one step above a deserted island, Esperanza was full of people. And they were all white. Even as a white person, it was weird. We had a few drinks and a late meal, and waited out the rain.  This was another great chance to people-watch and debate the folly of their fashion choices.  Our bartender pressed on in good spirits, even with broken appliances and a missing employee. And as all good bartenders do, he convinced us to drink more than we planned (using pretty sound logic:  what else were we doing that day?)

After the rain, we walked through town trying to find open slots on the evening's bio-bay tour. There were none. They were all booked solid for the next several days.  We called some more, decided we'd do some research and find something tomorrow morning, and headed back to the house to call it an early evening, as it was apparent I'd started to come down with something.  While temperate air blew softly through the shutters we laid in bed, reading snippets of our books to each other until we fell asleep.

PR4 Day 1 - San Juan!

Brice: As my girlfriend Lis and I are long distance now, we have to catch a flight to see one another. But if we both flew instead of one of us flying, then we get to see something new and spend time together. So I decided that we'd visit Puerto Rico! And in traditional Farrell style I did my best to jam as much as possible into it.

Lis: I was asking Brice, as I always do, about when we could do another visit.  Dying to see him again, happy to just drink gin and play pool, the usual.  But in November he goes, "I think we're gonna do a trip, like Puerto Rico.  Whenever your spring break is." My jaw hit the desk.  Take a plane??  Go to an island??  Spend a ton of money??  So needless to say, I've been looking forward to this for months.

Day 0 - Flight

I love the beauty of exotic trips, but I also enjoy the journey.  The flight from DC to San Juan is one I'd been excited for, as it was my first flight with Brice!  We were both exhausted and tried as many contortions as we could to cuddle/sleep on the plane, but the spacing of economy class, especially United, is made for hobbits/Lises and not elves/Brices.  But we managed a few bouts of conversation and dozing.  Once we landed and set off for Caribe Hilton however, I started getting energy again.  The hotel has a private beach, pools, a mini-jungle with exotic birds, and a ***ton*** of space.  But when we finally made it to our room between 2 and 3 am, the fatigue kicked in and we had a restful night.

Day 1 - Walking San Juan

Today we decided to do San Juan by walking. This was mostly a good idea.

We struck a great balance between sleeping enough that we were energized and not wasting the morning.  As we left the building I remarked, "I've been transported to this magical world where it's summer!"  (Back home the weather was around 40-60 degrees, here it was 70-80). 

We first visited Punta Escambrón (Literal translation: Prickerbush Point. It sounds way better in Spanish). We saw the extremely abbreviated ramparts, took in the ocean, and Lis marveled at her first Palm trees.  Then we looked way across the water at the fortifications that made up the todo list for today.  Castillo de San Cristobal a mile up the coast, and El Morro another mile past that.  It was slightly daunting as the screws in my femur still occasionally act up, but we decided to go for it and set off!


We had a deliciously breezy walk over to the long forts in Old San Juan.  Historic sites are some of my favorite places to walk around, because they're well-maintained, spacious, and usually blended with nature.  I had forgotten how large San Cristobal is - despite being the less famous of the paired forts it is much larger - 27 acres!  We immediately set about exploring all of it, from the WWII era additions, to the garritos (the iconic guard-lookout-boxes that all smell like hobo pee), to the ancient storage tunnels that featured all their original lighting! Which is to say, no lighting. There were so many spots on this fortress to sit and look at the sea.  Even some old cannons and cannon balls to climb on (I resisted the urge, for the sake of the children nearby). We saw a few lizards, wandered the grounds, watched the ocean smash against rocks, and eventually set off to find lunch.

After turning down a random sidestreet we found a random cafe? Lounge? Primarily a drinks place, it had sluggish service but neat decor, balconies, and an amazing caprese appetizer.


After lunch we continued past the ghetto ("Never go down there", he said foreshadowingly, like Mufasa warning Simba about the Elephant Graveyard), skirting the cemetery, and up to El Morro! El Morro is more of the same - a huge castle built with a staggering amount of stone, with great views of the sea for the cannons to take in. And too many stairs.


 


That's when my mind started wandering, looking out at the sea and trying to imagine what it would look like if invaders were approaching.  Brice also pointed out a lot of architectural advantages, like a long slope instead of stairs, which would make it hard to run up if it was wet from rain. Or blood!
 



While we were at El Morro we noticed a path winding around the base of the fort, which would put us up close and personal with the waves, so we set off to find it! We ended up backtracking a fair bit, which actually worked out as we ended up leaving via the Puerta de San Juan - the iconic gateway in the city wall. And we saw kitty city. Cat country? Punto gato? Regardless of what you call it, the locals feed hundreds of stray cats along the path around the fortress wall, resulting in cats lounging beneath every tree. It's super cute. My inner child was throwing a tantrum at the fact that it's not safe to jump into a pile of stray kittens, petting and kissing them and rubbing their bellies.  But at least I know they exist, and lounging and pouncing on lizards in their spare time.

We walked around the entire castle, taking in the imposing view an invading army would be faced with, and watching waves taller than we are smash themselves apart on the rocks. We continued around the north side of the point, eventually ending up at the cemetery. We slipped in the back door, made our way between the close-packed graves, remarking at the large swath of history on the stones.  Unfortunately, once we made our way to the front door we discovered that it was locked, and a bit too large to surreptitiously jump. So we made our way back out the backdoor, across a seawall, and around the far side... cutting across the edge of the previously proscribed neighborhood.  Luckily, everything went well and we began making our way back to the hotel.

We stopped for afternoon tea (afternoon rum?) choosing open-air seating next to Plaza De Colón, where I finally got the ceviche I missed at Brunch. While we ate we observed the art demonstration going on across the street. The local art school kids had a speaker system and were setting up to begin some spray-paint art. I've seen the youtube videos, I know how this goes. They start with random smearing and them BOOM! Planets! Nebulas! This guy spent... I dunno, at least an hour, with his team, painting a graffiti tag that just said DAB.  And no space scenery. It was delightfully ridiculous, though I'm sure that's not what they were going for.

We walked back to the hotel, snapping a few pictures of the sunset along the way, and had a more substantial meal in the in-house taco shop. Then we walked out the private pier and along the now empty beach, and chilled in the hot-tub. There was not a lot left to say at the end of an action-packed day (doesn't mean I didn't try! "If you met an alien race...."), so we just recuperated in the hot water, letting the jets scrub the 10 miles we'd hiked out of our legs.