Wow. Here I sit, in Williamstown, finishing up the latest version of our Puerto Rico blog. Seems strange. And it is.
We listened to "Muerte en Hawaii" at supper today, and all of us smiled at the weirdness of it.
The last day or so in PR went nicely - you already know a lot of it. Cleaning the apartment, eating the leftovers, leaving the place as we found it, as much as we could. To bed and awake, at 5:30, for the last leg.
The cab driver was perfectly on time, as was Marimer; I brought down most of the bags, and then she and I departed with Clarabelle to take her to the cargo area. We had a nice chat as we drove, and when we arrived at Delta Cargo, Clarabelle, to my astonishment, tail awag, trooped straight into her crate and laid down. Astonishing. She knew, apparently, what was about to happen: Climb in, relax, and in a few hours, they let you out again. I was so pleased that she hadn't been traumatized by the previous trip. Marimer then drove me to the departure gate, where I quickly found Janneke and the kids. Janneke dashed out to give Marimer the keys and a goodbye hug, and we hit the line.
Zoom. The San Juan airport is more efficient than JFK by a factor of ten, easily. Security (first time I get full-body scanned; Janneke noticed they were doing almost exclusively men), straight to the gate, then an improvised breakfast and some time to wait. Spirits high. Noticed some musicians, young, Spaniards, with electric guitar cases that they apparently planned to carry on. I thought of Milena, who told me that cello players often buy a seat for their instrument so they won't have to check it. And I thought, about the guitar players: That looks big. Surprised they let you carry it on. But, hey. What do I care.
They announced that this was an absolutely full flight, and that there might be problems with storage space for carry-ons; therefore, anyone who would like to check a carry-on, free of charge, was being asked to do so. We jumped on that baby and checked our largest piece. And then the boarding began; as we usually do, we hung back so we could spend as little time as possible on the plane. Never quite understood those folks who line up the second they announce the possibility. Dude, you have your seat assigned. Nobody's taking it away. The only thing you gain by getting on earlier is more time immobilized in a tiny seat. But, to each his own.
Somebody at Delta had done their job, realized we were all one party, and seated us all four in a row, unlike the trip to San Juan, when we'd had to horse trade to get next to the kids. We were almost the last people aboard. And as we sat down, the three musicians we had noticed earlier came up from their seats in the back to harangue the flight attendants. One of them counted the open overhead compartments out loud and said, "Tres vacíos. Tres." He held up three fingers to illustrate. The flight attendant was trying to close one, but the musician refused to move his fingers, held up in an illustrative manner still, as he apparently thought he had not made his point clear enough. "Tres." Apparently, as there were so many folks on board, they had asked - required, no doubt - the musicians, with their bulky luggage, to check their bags. And now that everyone was on board, it turned out that there had been, in the end, room for the guitars. Of course, there had been no way to know for sure ahead of time, and they had made a call. Now the guitars were checked, the doors were closed, and there was no getting them out. The flight attendants told them they were sorry, but there was no way now to go back and undo it, and would they please go to their seats.
Everybody sat down. Much zipping back and forth of flight attendants; an announcement or two. And then the two male Spaniard musicians walked all the way from their seats in the back to the front, to badger the flight attendants again. The flight attendants were as insistent as they could be, but the Spaniards argued on and on, and on, and on. A voice came over the PA, first in Spanish, and then in English: "Could all passengers please be seated. We can not leave the gate until all passengers are seated. Both the doors have been closed and we have permission to go to the runway, but we cannot leave the gate until all passengers are seated." Nothing - on and on, even more animated, now, insisting and interrupting, wagging fingers.
I'd had it. Every single passenger on this flight, with however many connections and further travel plans and relatives waiting for them on the other side, was now being kidnapped by a couple of spoiled, entitled whipper-snappers with annoying accents. I was somewhat surprised to hear myself doing it, but I suddenly, and very, very loudly said the words I had been thinking now in my fuming head for a couple of minutes:
"Sentate, gordo. Qué somos, 300 aquí, esperándote a TI?!"
(Siddown, fatso. What are there, 300 of us, sitting here waiting on YOU?!)
They both froze, went silent, and slooooowly turned around, mouths agape. And were confronted with all of our faces, some of them probably laughing, some of them probably nodding vigorously. And mine, glaring intently.
It was like magic - like the scene in Dune when the witch says to Paul "Come here", and he tries valiantly to resist, but her magic cannot be disobeyed, and his body herky-jerky, obeys the command and marches over to her despite his efforts to stop it. They slowly, silently, made their way back through the gazes pouring down on them, and when they got close to me, the nearest one managed to say, "Déjame preguntar, por lo menos." (Let me ask, at least.) I was impatient. "Qué pensás, que no te vimos preguntar las primeras ochenta veces? Cuántas veces vas a preguntar? Preguntaste, y te contestaron. Sentate." (What do you think - that we didn't see you ask the first 80 times? How many times are you going to ask? You asked, and they answered. Sit down.) "Con usted, no vale la pena meterse," he said. (It's not worth getting into it with you.)
Damn straight.
Janneke said she heard a female flight attendant say, "I don't know what happened, but I'm glad it did."
I have to say - the only word I regret is "gordo". He wasn't even fat - mildly soft in the middle, I'd say. And it probably further ruined his day. But, hey - it worked. And it kept him from further ruining mine.
Fly, we did - Janneke and I took advantage of the in-flight wifi to watch an episode of "Mad Men" on Netflix. Snoozed, had a bagel, and I slept through the landing! I was awakened by the applause. Best flight ever.
Off, where JFK frustrated us at every turn - emboldened by my experience on the plane, I said to a squat New Yorker and his squat family who had squatted square in the middle of the area where we all needed to get by in order to leave: "You know, if you guys move back JUST a little bit, you'll be blocking absolutely everything." And he snorted in reply - but then immediately started grabbing at his bags to move. I could get used to this.
Though it's wrong. And evil. And I should not do it. I should take the high road at all times.
Into the van that had come to get us, pick up Clarabelle, who never even whined and didn't even really have to pee; then on the road, stop for a sandwich, let the cat out of her box, watch her install herself on top of a suitcase in the open van and sleep all the way to Williamstown. Flawless.
And then Clarabelle went out back and got nailed by a skunk.
And the internet wouldn't work, so I had to get on the horn with a techie so I could get it going and look up the anti-skunk-smell recipe that worked so well last time.
(1 quart hydrogen peroxide, 1 cup baking soda, 1/4 cup dishwashing liquid. Wash affected area thoroughly and then rinse. Voila.)
But apart form that, it was smooth sailing.
Today we've been putting things away, assessing the house, paying bills, answering messages, making phone calls, trips to the bank, bla bla bla. And tomorrow promises to be damn near normal.
Do I have conclusions? No, I don't. Not this time. Because I truly believe it is not a closed door. I want to go back there, regularly. I want to make more friends there and do more projects there. I want to get the kids' accents to be thoroughly, irretrievably Puerto Rican. I want to adopt a cat form there. And a dog. I want to hunt invasive iguanas and mongooses with a slingshot.
OK, that last one is kind of weird.
But I want to continue this relationship with Puerto Rico. I am more interested in it than I was when I hadn't been there at all. I want to incorporate more of it in my classroom; I want to know more about its history, I want to compare it to Cuba, i want to interview all the Cubans and Dominicans I can who live there and see what they think about it, and what Puerto Ricans think about them...It's an infinitely expanding place for me, and I don't want four years to go by until I get back there again.
Thanks for sharing the adventure with us. For Janneke, Q, T, Clarabelle, Skittles, Vanna White, and the Johnstadt Dancers, this is Joe, signing out.
For now.
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Sunday, August 14, 2011
Denoument
Wow! Couple of days gone by and no blog. You can probably guess why: We fly out tomorrow, and have been a little busy.
Yesterday...Let's see...Ah, yes. We had Marimer (María Mercedes, in whose apartment we're staying) and Aurora (downstairs neighbor in whose apartment we stayed last time, and who put us in touch with Marimer) over for brunch. It was absolutely wonderful - they are both hilarious, sparkly, energetic individuals with whom we get on just fantastically. It seems strange, but this was really the first extended time we had ever been able to spend together socially, despite all the dealings around the apartments. And not that it should have come as a surprise, since they had both been nothing but wonderful in our interactions previously, but they truly felt like old friends - comfortable, easy to laugh with and to talk to. And they're coming to Williamstown this coming year! Just a great time had by all.
Then I went to say goodbye to my friend Basilisa, the owner of the botánica, whom I mentioned in a post or two a while back. It was Saturday, and she wouldn't be working Sunday, so this was going to be my last shot at seeing her, and between the Culebra trip and who knows what all else, I hadn't been able to get in to see her at all this past week. So we chatted a good hour or so, and she then invited us over for dessert. And for supper, potentially, but I told her Janneke would already be working on it. But we agreed: 7:30, her place.
We rolled in a little late, and she let us in - hair undone, in her nightgown. She had meant, and had probably said, the NEXT night! Embarrassment all 'round, but she wouldn't think of letting us leave. She showed us all around her house, offered us her downstairs mother-in-law apartment for our next stay, specifically directed the kids to go to her fridge and rifle through it looking for sweets...A very nice visit. And we agreed to do the actual, official visit today, at lunch.
Here's a shot from post-lunch:
And another, with her daughter, Lizzie:
Just the warmest, most welcoming people. And Basi made a point of letting Janneke know all the nice things I'd been saying about her.
Love it when a plan comes together.
The morning prior to lunch saw the epic of the rental car delivery. Went without a hitch - except that once I had taken a cab home ($15), I realized I hadn't detached the remote to Marimer (our apartment's owner)'s garage gate. So I called Enterprise, and the woman put me on hold while she went to find the car. She came back five minutes later. "It's not here," she said. "What? I turned it in twenty minutes ago! Did you rent it already?" (Sounds of clicking.) "No, it hasn't been rented out, but it's not on the lot." "Has it turned invisible?" "It could be on another lot," she said in an annoyed tone. (Can't blame her.) "I'll attach a note, and when we rent it out, which will probably be today, we'll try to make sure someone looks for the remote."
Not good enough. So I walked down the stairs and drew a deep breath in preparation for a run to Ashford Avenue to where the taxis hang out so I could get back there and find it myself - but there was, magically, a taxi waiting just outside our apartment building! He took me back to the car rental place ($16), and agreed to wait there while I searched the lot.
The car was thirty feet in front of the window through which the person I'd talked to could have looked. I talked to no one - walked up to the car, pulled the keys out of the door, took the remote, and walked back to the cab. Back home again ($16). So my forgetfulness cost us $32 today. Whatchagonnado.
The afternoon was spent by Janneke in packing, and by me in watching the kids frolic in the surf. And then we all trooped to the dog park so Clarabelle could get a good long run in before we stuff her into the cargo bay of a plane tomorrow. Poor thing - she probably knows something's up, just not quite exactly what.
And that's going to be it! We did a lot of debriefing in recent days around the trip home - both kids have come up to us independently to talk about how much they'll miss Puerto Rico, and what a good time they've had. I'd love to come back next year, but I think that still draws some skepticism from the other three members of the family. Luckily, I wear the pants.
Gotta go - Janneke's waiting for me to walk the dog and take out the garbage so we can watch Mad Men. I'll check in again post-trip!
Yesterday...Let's see...Ah, yes. We had Marimer (María Mercedes, in whose apartment we're staying) and Aurora (downstairs neighbor in whose apartment we stayed last time, and who put us in touch with Marimer) over for brunch. It was absolutely wonderful - they are both hilarious, sparkly, energetic individuals with whom we get on just fantastically. It seems strange, but this was really the first extended time we had ever been able to spend together socially, despite all the dealings around the apartments. And not that it should have come as a surprise, since they had both been nothing but wonderful in our interactions previously, but they truly felt like old friends - comfortable, easy to laugh with and to talk to. And they're coming to Williamstown this coming year! Just a great time had by all.
Then I went to say goodbye to my friend Basilisa, the owner of the botánica, whom I mentioned in a post or two a while back. It was Saturday, and she wouldn't be working Sunday, so this was going to be my last shot at seeing her, and between the Culebra trip and who knows what all else, I hadn't been able to get in to see her at all this past week. So we chatted a good hour or so, and she then invited us over for dessert. And for supper, potentially, but I told her Janneke would already be working on it. But we agreed: 7:30, her place.
We rolled in a little late, and she let us in - hair undone, in her nightgown. She had meant, and had probably said, the NEXT night! Embarrassment all 'round, but she wouldn't think of letting us leave. She showed us all around her house, offered us her downstairs mother-in-law apartment for our next stay, specifically directed the kids to go to her fridge and rifle through it looking for sweets...A very nice visit. And we agreed to do the actual, official visit today, at lunch.
Here's a shot from post-lunch:
And another, with her daughter, Lizzie:
Just the warmest, most welcoming people. And Basi made a point of letting Janneke know all the nice things I'd been saying about her.
Love it when a plan comes together.
The morning prior to lunch saw the epic of the rental car delivery. Went without a hitch - except that once I had taken a cab home ($15), I realized I hadn't detached the remote to Marimer (our apartment's owner)'s garage gate. So I called Enterprise, and the woman put me on hold while she went to find the car. She came back five minutes later. "It's not here," she said. "What? I turned it in twenty minutes ago! Did you rent it already?" (Sounds of clicking.) "No, it hasn't been rented out, but it's not on the lot." "Has it turned invisible?" "It could be on another lot," she said in an annoyed tone. (Can't blame her.) "I'll attach a note, and when we rent it out, which will probably be today, we'll try to make sure someone looks for the remote."
Not good enough. So I walked down the stairs and drew a deep breath in preparation for a run to Ashford Avenue to where the taxis hang out so I could get back there and find it myself - but there was, magically, a taxi waiting just outside our apartment building! He took me back to the car rental place ($16), and agreed to wait there while I searched the lot.
The car was thirty feet in front of the window through which the person I'd talked to could have looked. I talked to no one - walked up to the car, pulled the keys out of the door, took the remote, and walked back to the cab. Back home again ($16). So my forgetfulness cost us $32 today. Whatchagonnado.
The afternoon was spent by Janneke in packing, and by me in watching the kids frolic in the surf. And then we all trooped to the dog park so Clarabelle could get a good long run in before we stuff her into the cargo bay of a plane tomorrow. Poor thing - she probably knows something's up, just not quite exactly what.
And that's going to be it! We did a lot of debriefing in recent days around the trip home - both kids have come up to us independently to talk about how much they'll miss Puerto Rico, and what a good time they've had. I'd love to come back next year, but I think that still draws some skepticism from the other three members of the family. Luckily, I wear the pants.
Gotta go - Janneke's waiting for me to walk the dog and take out the garbage so we can watch Mad Men. I'll check in again post-trip!
Friday, August 12, 2011
Domesticity Continues
As you may have guessed, we boarded Clarabelle for the jaunt to Culebra. She spent Tuesday night, all of Wednesday, and Wednesday night at DeVarona, where T and she had gone to camp. We were then to pick her up Thursday morning. So I drove over to do that.
Parked the car in the parking lot and saw two enormous iguanas scramble out under the fence, running for dear life. The facility is located in a mildly wooded area, so I guess it shouldn't have come as a huge surprise. But even so: wild iguanas aren't something that gets on my radar screen much. I admired their disappearance and headed in.
Said hello as I walked to the window area by the front desk that overlooks the doggie pool. Clarabelle was there with about eight other dogs, among them a bull terrier puppy, as well as the prettiest dog I've seen in a long time: jet black, with a shepherd-type face and ears, medium-length hair, all on a finely built, border-collie type body. Gorgeous.
But I didn't get much time to watch Clarabelle frolic. Just as I set up to watch her, she stopped dead in her tracks and looked out otoward the parking lot. She couldn't see it, as there's a big wooden fence there, but she moved toward the fence and lifted her head excitedly, scenting the air. Then she turned and trotted to the window, searching it, until she found me; she then leapt up and bounced against the window with her front paws, and grinned and waved her tail excitedly. She'd smelled me! I was very touched.
It took them a good 25 minutes to prep her for her departure - she came to me dry as a bone, and wearing a complimentary DeVarona bandana. I'd have taken her wet and bandana-less in order to be done quicker, but what can you do. They began to search for the collar and leash, but I had a memory of them handing them to me as I left when I dropped her off. I'd thought I would have left them in the car for when I eventually picked her up, but they weren't in the car. "Must be at home," I said, and took the dog with me on a borrowed leash as far as the car.
Drove home. 25, maybe 30 minutes with the traffic.
Looked for the collar and leash. Nowhere.
Called DeVarona. They searched more extensively. "Yep, they're here."
Back in the car for another hour of fun. But we did perform the celebratory ritual we always perform when we get Clarabelle back from boarding:
By the time I got home again it was noon, so we had lunch, followed by some lazing about the place. Kids doing projects (T has been making crafts), Q reading or playing his DS...And the weather wasn't bad, either. We just weren't up for much. The night before, I had been sitting with Janneke in the living room, and had simply declared:
"I'm done being in Puerto Rico."
We're spent. It's time to go home.
We rallied in the afternoon to get some progress in on the 1000-piece jigsaw puzzle we had begun; we were pretty close to finishing at that point.
And around 3:30 we managed to drag ourselves to the beach for a limited frolic. Back home again, where I took off to do some jogging. As I usually do after a jog, I hit the water; it cools me off a lot faster, and gets some of the sweat out of the clothes before I bring them back into the house.
'Course, I'm barefoot when I go in, and yesterday I drifted far enough out to where I was suddenly standing on rock. Or would have been, had I put my foot down for more than a delicate probe. Once I realized it was rock, the words "Sea urchin!" rang out in my head like a fire alarm, and I began to tread water in the pretty-shallow sea, keeping my feet out in front of me, which requires a lot of arm and hand motion to keep afloat. I was facing back toward the beach.
Now, the day before, when we'd gotten home, I'd been unable to completely re-attach the ear pieces on my glasses. I got one mostly in, but the screw didn't go all the way through to the bottom sprong; on the other piece, I couldn't get it even through the top one. So that one was held on with a paper clip until I could make it to a repair shop. Meaning that my glasses, while on for this particular run, weren't on especially tightly.
And as I treaded water there, an especially big wave came up from behind, caught me unawares, washed over my head and my face, and took my glasses off, clean as a whistle.
I fished for them madly with my right hand, and managed to bump them before they disappeared forever, down to Davy Jones' locker.
So I've got the contacts in now. It'll be a long day of travel in them when we eventually do go home, but I'll make it. It was time for a new pair anyway.
Home, supper, dishes, and the kids watched the first half of "Summer of the Colt", an Argentine movie Janneke found on Netflix. We were prepping them for a long time on the Spanish saying we'd help them if it got dificult - but then it turned out the thing is dubbed / spoken in English, depending, I think, on whether the actor involved spoke any. Bother. Still, a cute movie. At one point, the kids who come to visit their grandfather in the country are settling in to their rooms. One of them has misplaced the bag with his clothes in it. He enters the room and declares, "I can't find my sack!" Which left Q and T in stitches. And which has been quoted numerous times since then.
By the kids.
Thus will our last days be here: Uneventful. Tonight we plan on hitting the movies - "Rise of the Planet of the Apes" opens here for me and Q, and Janneke, whose turn it is to go with T (I saw "Zookeeper", remember), will see "Smurfs".
Janneke and T went out this morning for a sunrise breakfast on the rocks overlooking the sea down at the beach, and just walked back in, soaked to the bone.
It's raining quite hard on and off today. I had planned on going in to do some more project-type stuff in San Jiuan, but not on a day like today. Not with a borrowed camera. I'd planned on getting some stuff on the sort-of-feral cats of Old San Juan, but they'll all be in out of the rain, I'm sure. Less fun to film.
OK, then - unless something cataclysmic happens, I doubt you'll hear too much more of us. There won't be much to tell - cleaning, packing, getting nervous for the trip. But I'll try to keep you posted.
(We had one piece missing, and one extra piece.)
Parked the car in the parking lot and saw two enormous iguanas scramble out under the fence, running for dear life. The facility is located in a mildly wooded area, so I guess it shouldn't have come as a huge surprise. But even so: wild iguanas aren't something that gets on my radar screen much. I admired their disappearance and headed in.
Said hello as I walked to the window area by the front desk that overlooks the doggie pool. Clarabelle was there with about eight other dogs, among them a bull terrier puppy, as well as the prettiest dog I've seen in a long time: jet black, with a shepherd-type face and ears, medium-length hair, all on a finely built, border-collie type body. Gorgeous.
But I didn't get much time to watch Clarabelle frolic. Just as I set up to watch her, she stopped dead in her tracks and looked out otoward the parking lot. She couldn't see it, as there's a big wooden fence there, but she moved toward the fence and lifted her head excitedly, scenting the air. Then she turned and trotted to the window, searching it, until she found me; she then leapt up and bounced against the window with her front paws, and grinned and waved her tail excitedly. She'd smelled me! I was very touched.
It took them a good 25 minutes to prep her for her departure - she came to me dry as a bone, and wearing a complimentary DeVarona bandana. I'd have taken her wet and bandana-less in order to be done quicker, but what can you do. They began to search for the collar and leash, but I had a memory of them handing them to me as I left when I dropped her off. I'd thought I would have left them in the car for when I eventually picked her up, but they weren't in the car. "Must be at home," I said, and took the dog with me on a borrowed leash as far as the car.
Drove home. 25, maybe 30 minutes with the traffic.
Looked for the collar and leash. Nowhere.
Called DeVarona. They searched more extensively. "Yep, they're here."
Back in the car for another hour of fun. But we did perform the celebratory ritual we always perform when we get Clarabelle back from boarding:
By the time I got home again it was noon, so we had lunch, followed by some lazing about the place. Kids doing projects (T has been making crafts), Q reading or playing his DS...And the weather wasn't bad, either. We just weren't up for much. The night before, I had been sitting with Janneke in the living room, and had simply declared:
"I'm done being in Puerto Rico."
We're spent. It's time to go home.
We rallied in the afternoon to get some progress in on the 1000-piece jigsaw puzzle we had begun; we were pretty close to finishing at that point.
And around 3:30 we managed to drag ourselves to the beach for a limited frolic. Back home again, where I took off to do some jogging. As I usually do after a jog, I hit the water; it cools me off a lot faster, and gets some of the sweat out of the clothes before I bring them back into the house.
'Course, I'm barefoot when I go in, and yesterday I drifted far enough out to where I was suddenly standing on rock. Or would have been, had I put my foot down for more than a delicate probe. Once I realized it was rock, the words "Sea urchin!" rang out in my head like a fire alarm, and I began to tread water in the pretty-shallow sea, keeping my feet out in front of me, which requires a lot of arm and hand motion to keep afloat. I was facing back toward the beach.
Now, the day before, when we'd gotten home, I'd been unable to completely re-attach the ear pieces on my glasses. I got one mostly in, but the screw didn't go all the way through to the bottom sprong; on the other piece, I couldn't get it even through the top one. So that one was held on with a paper clip until I could make it to a repair shop. Meaning that my glasses, while on for this particular run, weren't on especially tightly.
And as I treaded water there, an especially big wave came up from behind, caught me unawares, washed over my head and my face, and took my glasses off, clean as a whistle.
I fished for them madly with my right hand, and managed to bump them before they disappeared forever, down to Davy Jones' locker.
So I've got the contacts in now. It'll be a long day of travel in them when we eventually do go home, but I'll make it. It was time for a new pair anyway.
Home, supper, dishes, and the kids watched the first half of "Summer of the Colt", an Argentine movie Janneke found on Netflix. We were prepping them for a long time on the Spanish saying we'd help them if it got dificult - but then it turned out the thing is dubbed / spoken in English, depending, I think, on whether the actor involved spoke any. Bother. Still, a cute movie. At one point, the kids who come to visit their grandfather in the country are settling in to their rooms. One of them has misplaced the bag with his clothes in it. He enters the room and declares, "I can't find my sack!" Which left Q and T in stitches. And which has been quoted numerous times since then.
By the kids.
Thus will our last days be here: Uneventful. Tonight we plan on hitting the movies - "Rise of the Planet of the Apes" opens here for me and Q, and Janneke, whose turn it is to go with T (I saw "Zookeeper", remember), will see "Smurfs".
Janneke and T went out this morning for a sunrise breakfast on the rocks overlooking the sea down at the beach, and just walked back in, soaked to the bone.
It's raining quite hard on and off today. I had planned on going in to do some more project-type stuff in San Jiuan, but not on a day like today. Not with a borrowed camera. I'd planned on getting some stuff on the sort-of-feral cats of Old San Juan, but they'll all be in out of the rain, I'm sure. Less fun to film.
OK, then - unless something cataclysmic happens, I doubt you'll hear too much more of us. There won't be much to tell - cleaning, packing, getting nervous for the trip. But I'll try to keep you posted.
(We had one piece missing, and one extra piece.)
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Culebra
So, to get there, you have to take a ferry. Which leaves at 9:00 AM, but the tickets go on sale at 7:00 AM, so you have to leave your apartment in Condado around 5:45. So we did that.
Arrived, parked, got in line, waited until 7:00, bought tickets ($13 for a family of four for there-and-back hour-and-a-quarter open-ocean ferry service), settled in to wait at the docks.
The ferry's pretty big. Here she blows:
Speaking of politics: Saw a woman who looks EXACTLY like Leyla Rouhi. Here she is:
She gave me permission to publish her likeness, by the by. In writing. In perpetuity.
Kids got a little restless, and so did we, but eventually we boarded.
Found seats together inside, in the air conditioning, and settled in to wait for takeoff. Q heard a blast from a horn at one point, just as I was ready to take a picture:
Live for those moments. T was asleep before too long:
And there was a very dignified gentleman sitting near us, who was clearly begging to be photographed, and who gave me written permission, again, to use his image in perpetuity. (Same form as the other lady.)
And before you knew it, we were disembarking at Culebra:
It's an island, 'case you hadn't realized, that is very small, but is part of Puerto Rican territory, and is relatively untouched. Fumbled our way through town to a place that purported to be a bakery. They had a limited selection of donuts and diet sodas, so we settled in to wait out the ferry crowd - the thing holds 400, and hardly any seats were open. On a Wednesday! Imagine the weekend! So when we'd eaten and rested a bit in the coolness, and the crowds had gone, I set out to find a van to drive us ($3 a head) to Playa Flamenco, renowned as one of the best beaches in the world, according to the locals. And here's our approach:
And here's our landing:
It was great. Clean, fine, white sand, clear water (not as clear as I imagined it, but very clear) - and lots of people. I mean, quite a large number of people. Look around - and again, I repeat, this was a Wednesday. I said to Janneke that our tour book says "Culebra hasn't been discovered by the tourism industry yet", and that that seems like total crap. "Well, the book is four years old," she said. Aha. Hadn't thought of that.
The beach was great. But it was just for jumping around in the water, which the kids have had a lot of, and just a 20-minute hike from there, the book said, there's another beach, with great snorkeling. So after an hour or so and our bag lunch, we trooped them over the mountain to see this other beach.
Now, as we sat there, Janneke and I, discussing snorkeling, it occurred to me that I had not remembered to wear my contact lenses. And so I would not be snorkeling. I was remarkably sanguine about it, I have to say, considering how much I really do love snorkeling, and how I'd remembered to shave my upper lip down the previous evening. It just wasn't in the cards - I can't wear glasses under my swim mask! You can't do that - it won't work. The ear pieces would keep the mask from sealing. You'd have to get rid of the ear piec--
Wait a minute.
Leaping into action, I stayed exactly where I was and managed to unscrew the ear piece with my thumbnail from the right hand side of my glasses. Realizing this wasn't going to work twice - the other screw was a lot tighter - I scampered back down the fine-sand path and bought a diet Pepsi from a bartender, then asked him if I could borrow a knife so I could unscrew my ear piece.
"I have some of those really tiny screwdrivers," he said. And he walked out to his car and brought me back a complete set.
Lucky, I thought, to run into this gentleman today. I wasted no time, and soon the ear piece was off. "Now," I said to him, "if only I could find some rubber bands!..."
Which he produced for me forthwith.
Cha, ching. Skipping forward a bit in time, I'll show you what these babies look like head-on:
And in profile:
Brilliant. Mask seals right around 'em, no problem. 'Course, when you're not snorkeling, they do put kind of a lot of pressure on your nose. There has to be some way to remedy that!...Hey, T: Pass me your Gatorade bottle:
Two words: Mac. Gyver.
There were a lot of seagulls at this beach - first time we see decent numbers of them. Wonder why.
Off we trooped to the other beach. Whose name I can't recall, but which is awesome. Check it:
We snorkeled the bejeezus out of that place. A very lovely, clear water they have there, with a very wide variety of landscapes and formations to explore. Each of us saw many species of fish we hadn't seen when we snorkeled in Rincón. If I could do it over again, I'd do Culebra rather than Rincón, and I'd skip Playa Flamenco and head straight to this place again. There was NO ONE ELSE THERE. We had the whole earth to ourselves. Pristine.
Back to the bus when it was all over - but while we trooped there (me with a popped T on my shoulders), I realized one of my flippers had fallen out of my bag, and had to run all the way back to the beach to find it. The rest continued on without me, and I caught up with them back at Flamenco Beach, just as a downpour started. I was wearing my glasses around my neck now (they really do press hard after a while), and couldn't see well enough to look for them - but I heard them coming my way. We all four found shelter under the same eave at the same time, strangely, and were together again. Nice how that works out.
Hired a van, back to the beach, onto the ferry (after a somewhat complicated session of changing back into our civilian clothes after swimming, right there on the dock; Janneke was demure behind a screen of towels we set up for her, as were T and Q (I, though, made some token motions toward decency by going close to a trailer that kind of screened parts of me, but then just dropped trou and did 'em up commando style. Hey, if they don't want to watch, they can turn away. (yeah, right. Sure they can.))))
(I can't keep track of how many parentheses I had going there - it's too late in the evening. I threw in a couple extra, probably, for good measure. (Keep the change.)) (")" ?...)
Ferry ride to Fajardo:
...dinner at Burger King (hey, it's cheap(ish), it's fast, it's reliable, there are no surprises, and we were bushed), and home to San Juan, via Highway 66, which is a marvel of modern transportation.
WHOO! I am finished with le post! Off to shower and to bed. Janneke wanted to watch an episode of "Mad Men" tonight, but it's 10:08. I told her I wouldn't make it. She's probably in there watching some Masterpiece Theater piece about starvation in 9th-century Russia.
Aw, who'm I kidding. She's re-watching "The Real Macaw". I'll bet you anything.
Tell you what - One last treat before you go: Can' blink comfortably with the MacGyver glasses on, and they press on the nose. There's got to be some way, when not snorkeling, to put the pressure downwards rather than upwards - To take advantage, as it were, of the nose pieces of the glasses. Aha! I've got it!
That's how I ordered our meals at Burger King.
And nobody called the cops or tazed us or anything. What a lucky day!
Arrived, parked, got in line, waited until 7:00, bought tickets ($13 for a family of four for there-and-back hour-and-a-quarter open-ocean ferry service), settled in to wait at the docks.
The ferry's pretty big. Here she blows:
Speaking of politics: Saw a woman who looks EXACTLY like Leyla Rouhi. Here she is:
She gave me permission to publish her likeness, by the by. In writing. In perpetuity.
Kids got a little restless, and so did we, but eventually we boarded.
Found seats together inside, in the air conditioning, and settled in to wait for takeoff. Q heard a blast from a horn at one point, just as I was ready to take a picture:
Live for those moments. T was asleep before too long:
And there was a very dignified gentleman sitting near us, who was clearly begging to be photographed, and who gave me written permission, again, to use his image in perpetuity. (Same form as the other lady.)
And before you knew it, we were disembarking at Culebra:
It's an island, 'case you hadn't realized, that is very small, but is part of Puerto Rican territory, and is relatively untouched. Fumbled our way through town to a place that purported to be a bakery. They had a limited selection of donuts and diet sodas, so we settled in to wait out the ferry crowd - the thing holds 400, and hardly any seats were open. On a Wednesday! Imagine the weekend! So when we'd eaten and rested a bit in the coolness, and the crowds had gone, I set out to find a van to drive us ($3 a head) to Playa Flamenco, renowned as one of the best beaches in the world, according to the locals. And here's our approach:
And here's our landing:
It was great. Clean, fine, white sand, clear water (not as clear as I imagined it, but very clear) - and lots of people. I mean, quite a large number of people. Look around - and again, I repeat, this was a Wednesday. I said to Janneke that our tour book says "Culebra hasn't been discovered by the tourism industry yet", and that that seems like total crap. "Well, the book is four years old," she said. Aha. Hadn't thought of that.
The beach was great. But it was just for jumping around in the water, which the kids have had a lot of, and just a 20-minute hike from there, the book said, there's another beach, with great snorkeling. So after an hour or so and our bag lunch, we trooped them over the mountain to see this other beach.
Now, as we sat there, Janneke and I, discussing snorkeling, it occurred to me that I had not remembered to wear my contact lenses. And so I would not be snorkeling. I was remarkably sanguine about it, I have to say, considering how much I really do love snorkeling, and how I'd remembered to shave my upper lip down the previous evening. It just wasn't in the cards - I can't wear glasses under my swim mask! You can't do that - it won't work. The ear pieces would keep the mask from sealing. You'd have to get rid of the ear piec--
Wait a minute.
Leaping into action, I stayed exactly where I was and managed to unscrew the ear piece with my thumbnail from the right hand side of my glasses. Realizing this wasn't going to work twice - the other screw was a lot tighter - I scampered back down the fine-sand path and bought a diet Pepsi from a bartender, then asked him if I could borrow a knife so I could unscrew my ear piece.
"I have some of those really tiny screwdrivers," he said. And he walked out to his car and brought me back a complete set.
Lucky, I thought, to run into this gentleman today. I wasted no time, and soon the ear piece was off. "Now," I said to him, "if only I could find some rubber bands!..."
Which he produced for me forthwith.
Cha, ching. Skipping forward a bit in time, I'll show you what these babies look like head-on:
And in profile:
Brilliant. Mask seals right around 'em, no problem. 'Course, when you're not snorkeling, they do put kind of a lot of pressure on your nose. There has to be some way to remedy that!...Hey, T: Pass me your Gatorade bottle:
Two words: Mac. Gyver.
There were a lot of seagulls at this beach - first time we see decent numbers of them. Wonder why.
Off we trooped to the other beach. Whose name I can't recall, but which is awesome. Check it:
We snorkeled the bejeezus out of that place. A very lovely, clear water they have there, with a very wide variety of landscapes and formations to explore. Each of us saw many species of fish we hadn't seen when we snorkeled in Rincón. If I could do it over again, I'd do Culebra rather than Rincón, and I'd skip Playa Flamenco and head straight to this place again. There was NO ONE ELSE THERE. We had the whole earth to ourselves. Pristine.
Back to the bus when it was all over - but while we trooped there (me with a popped T on my shoulders), I realized one of my flippers had fallen out of my bag, and had to run all the way back to the beach to find it. The rest continued on without me, and I caught up with them back at Flamenco Beach, just as a downpour started. I was wearing my glasses around my neck now (they really do press hard after a while), and couldn't see well enough to look for them - but I heard them coming my way. We all four found shelter under the same eave at the same time, strangely, and were together again. Nice how that works out.
Hired a van, back to the beach, onto the ferry (after a somewhat complicated session of changing back into our civilian clothes after swimming, right there on the dock; Janneke was demure behind a screen of towels we set up for her, as were T and Q (I, though, made some token motions toward decency by going close to a trailer that kind of screened parts of me, but then just dropped trou and did 'em up commando style. Hey, if they don't want to watch, they can turn away. (yeah, right. Sure they can.))))
(I can't keep track of how many parentheses I had going there - it's too late in the evening. I threw in a couple extra, probably, for good measure. (Keep the change.)) (")" ?...)
Ferry ride to Fajardo:
...dinner at Burger King (hey, it's cheap(ish), it's fast, it's reliable, there are no surprises, and we were bushed), and home to San Juan, via Highway 66, which is a marvel of modern transportation.
WHOO! I am finished with le post! Off to shower and to bed. Janneke wanted to watch an episode of "Mad Men" tonight, but it's 10:08. I told her I wouldn't make it. She's probably in there watching some Masterpiece Theater piece about starvation in 9th-century Russia.
Aw, who'm I kidding. She's re-watching "The Real Macaw". I'll bet you anything.
Tell you what - One last treat before you go: Can' blink comfortably with the MacGyver glasses on, and they press on the nose. There's got to be some way, when not snorkeling, to put the pressure downwards rather than upwards - To take advantage, as it were, of the nose pieces of the glasses. Aha! I've got it!
That's how I ordered our meals at Burger King.
And nobody called the cops or tazed us or anything. What a lucky day!
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
A Couple of Days Off from High Adventure
Haven’t been in touch for a while – a direct effect of the lack of real news these days. Let’s go backward in time:
Right now the kids are watching the second half of “The Real Macaw”, easily the best Australian film ever made. About a parrot. That stars Jason Robards. And involves pirates. They started watching it yesterday in the evening, and continue tonight. Janneke and I have mercifully let the kids plug in the headphones, and are doing a little “Mystery Science Theater” action over the silent progress of the film.
It’s even less fun than it sounds.
Earlier today, I drove to Fajardo, a little over an hour away, to try to buy tickets for the ferry to Culebra in the morning. We plan to go there and do some beach-hopping and snorkeling. Turns out, though, they only sell 50 advance tickets on the 400-person ferry; we’ll have to get there tomorrow at 7:00 AM and wait in line for tickets on the 9:00 ferry. What's that you say? I should have called first? I did. Probably twenty times. No one ever answered the phone. I finally called the station in Culebra, who said "You can try to call Fajardo, but I'm warning you: They never answer. The phone bites and is poisonous, apparently, in the Fajardo office." I pointed out to the dude in the ticket window there - that it could have saved me damn near three hours of driving. "They know," he said. "I tell them all the time. But I can't answer the phone and sell tickets." "Seems you need another person, then," I pointed out, helpfully. "Don't I know it," he replied.
Ah well. It let me listen to the radio a while. And I also discovered a shortcut to Fajardo – it’s the third time this trip I make that drive. You’ll recall we went there for the bioluminescent bay trip. The directions we had from the kayak company were almost incredibly bad, and they skipped entirely the much quicker and simpler route that avoids any number of towns and stops on a four-lane highway designed specifically for the purpose. Well tomorrow we get our revenge for all the time we’ve wasted up to now.
In the morning, Janneke was at the coffee shop, “working” again, and the kids and I tried to go to the San Juan municipal natatorium. Turns out, though, you need to get an ID and a doctor’s note and permission from the Pope before you can use it. So screw them. Didn’t go in. Hit the beach instead.
That was today. Yesterday? Um…Well, the cat’s been a bit sick. We took her to the vet because she’s had some loose stool action lately. That’s the reason we didn’t go to Culebra today; Janneke wasn’t comfortable leaving her at home with the loose stool action going on. This vet was a lot better – got an appointment and didn’t have to wait 4 hours at all. Couldn’t find anything wrong with the cat, and got some immodium-type medicine for her. All should be well.
On her way to the vet’s, Janneke noticed a municipal dog park, well-maintained, with a bunch of agility structures and all. So after lunch and an afternoon at the beach, we all trooped there to let Clarabelle have a run with some new friends. Many of whom were intent on humping her.
There are jokes to be made there, but I will resist.
Woops – They appear to have killed off the bird in the climactic final scene fo the movie, here, and I have two crying kids. We’ll have to see - I may need to intervene here…Wait – Now the father has jumped from the helicopter and they’re having a come-together moment in the sea, and the talking parrot is still floating on a piece of wreckage from the exploded boat where the evil archaeologist met his deserved end –
Believe me, I WISH I were kidding.
-OK, all appears to be well. They didn’t kill off the bird. What was I saying…?
So that was pretty much yesterday. It’s been a slow couple of days, to be perfectly frank. But come tomorrow night, I’ll have pictures and anecdotes that’ll put hair back on your head.
Besides, the kid and the macaw are now in South America returning the artifacts to the pyramid in the jungle whence they originally came, to the strains of an Andean folk band.
Still wish I were kidding.
Right now the kids are watching the second half of “The Real Macaw”, easily the best Australian film ever made. About a parrot. That stars Jason Robards. And involves pirates. They started watching it yesterday in the evening, and continue tonight. Janneke and I have mercifully let the kids plug in the headphones, and are doing a little “Mystery Science Theater” action over the silent progress of the film.
It’s even less fun than it sounds.
Earlier today, I drove to Fajardo, a little over an hour away, to try to buy tickets for the ferry to Culebra in the morning. We plan to go there and do some beach-hopping and snorkeling. Turns out, though, they only sell 50 advance tickets on the 400-person ferry; we’ll have to get there tomorrow at 7:00 AM and wait in line for tickets on the 9:00 ferry. What's that you say? I should have called first? I did. Probably twenty times. No one ever answered the phone. I finally called the station in Culebra, who said "You can try to call Fajardo, but I'm warning you: They never answer. The phone bites and is poisonous, apparently, in the Fajardo office." I pointed out to the dude in the ticket window there - that it could have saved me damn near three hours of driving. "They know," he said. "I tell them all the time. But I can't answer the phone and sell tickets." "Seems you need another person, then," I pointed out, helpfully. "Don't I know it," he replied.
Ah well. It let me listen to the radio a while. And I also discovered a shortcut to Fajardo – it’s the third time this trip I make that drive. You’ll recall we went there for the bioluminescent bay trip. The directions we had from the kayak company were almost incredibly bad, and they skipped entirely the much quicker and simpler route that avoids any number of towns and stops on a four-lane highway designed specifically for the purpose. Well tomorrow we get our revenge for all the time we’ve wasted up to now.
In the morning, Janneke was at the coffee shop, “working” again, and the kids and I tried to go to the San Juan municipal natatorium. Turns out, though, you need to get an ID and a doctor’s note and permission from the Pope before you can use it. So screw them. Didn’t go in. Hit the beach instead.
That was today. Yesterday? Um…Well, the cat’s been a bit sick. We took her to the vet because she’s had some loose stool action lately. That’s the reason we didn’t go to Culebra today; Janneke wasn’t comfortable leaving her at home with the loose stool action going on. This vet was a lot better – got an appointment and didn’t have to wait 4 hours at all. Couldn’t find anything wrong with the cat, and got some immodium-type medicine for her. All should be well.
On her way to the vet’s, Janneke noticed a municipal dog park, well-maintained, with a bunch of agility structures and all. So after lunch and an afternoon at the beach, we all trooped there to let Clarabelle have a run with some new friends. Many of whom were intent on humping her.
There are jokes to be made there, but I will resist.
Woops – They appear to have killed off the bird in the climactic final scene fo the movie, here, and I have two crying kids. We’ll have to see - I may need to intervene here…Wait – Now the father has jumped from the helicopter and they’re having a come-together moment in the sea, and the talking parrot is still floating on a piece of wreckage from the exploded boat where the evil archaeologist met his deserved end –
Believe me, I WISH I were kidding.
-OK, all appears to be well. They didn’t kill off the bird. What was I saying…?
So that was pretty much yesterday. It’s been a slow couple of days, to be perfectly frank. But come tomorrow night, I’ll have pictures and anecdotes that’ll put hair back on your head.
Besides, the kid and the macaw are now in South America returning the artifacts to the pyramid in the jungle whence they originally came, to the strains of an Andean folk band.
Still wish I were kidding.
Saturday, August 6, 2011
Playing Catch-Up
Well, let's begin with yesterday, shall we?
The morning appears to have gone by uneventfully, because I do not recall anything from it. So we'll just leave that there. Although I do recall this: I did project stuff, and Janneke went off to meet up with a Williams student of hers who is from Puerto Rico. And who says her family wants to have us over for dinner. I'll believe it when I see it.
Post-lunch, we loaded up the car and headed to Piñones, a spot up the coast toward the East from here that all the Puerto Ricans tell us we have to get to, but which appears to go unmentioned in most of the guide-book-type material we have or have seen. The idea is that it's home to a large population of Puerto Ricans of African descent, that they sell food in lots of kiosks, that the beaches are protected and lovely, and that there's some sort of walkway that you ride bicycles on. So off we went.
Zoomed there in under twenty minutes via the highway. Unbelievable, how fast the Kia Sol can get one around a place.
We found this funny:
"Postal police"? Do they really need a car?
Following directions I got from a guy on the beach a couple weeks ago, we drove until we saw a school, then found a spot to park on the right hand side of the road; the left hand side, where there were bushes, would lead to the beach. So we pulled into the parking lot of a roadside eatery, where two elderly men were sitting at the rear of the parking lot. I approached them and asked if they allowed people to use their lot.
"We do," one of them said, "but we ask for three dollars in return."
"Fair and reasonable," I proclaimed, handed him $3, and gave him a firm handshake.
He smiled broadly. "Con toda confianza," he said. "Lo estaremos vigilando desde acá." Don't worry, we'll be watching it from here.
Both men were black, as was everyone working in or lounging in front of the restaurant. So far, the rumors were true.
Across the road there were stairs that led over the bushy dune and onto the beach. (There was also a dead cat and a lot of garbage.) And once we topped the dune, we could see that the beach was very different from Condado - Thundering surf, and strewn with all kinds of (mostly natural) ocean flotsam. (Or is it jetsam?) Coconuts, logs, leaves, shells, sea glass galore. And quite a bit of garbage. And, like I said, a thundering, pounding surf, with a number of surfers bobbing off shore.
Less true, that bit about the protected beach. Here it is:
Very pretty, but very far from calm. Still, we had passed a beach where there was a natural stone wall that divided an area, thirty yards across and four hundred long, from the pounding surf; we'd kept driving because it was so crowded. So maybe I had misheard the directions slightly. This beach had going for it the fact that apart from the surfers, who stayed out to sea a bit, we had the place to ourselves. And which also made us regret not bringing Clarabelle.
Though getting past the dead cat without the kids noticing would probably have been a lot trickier.
So we all frolicked in the heavy waves, which was a lot of fun. Like a carnival ride, throwing you up and then down. Kids enjoyed it, as you can see:
I was enjoying myself all the more with the strange thrill that one (apparently) gets when running around in public in one's underwear, as I had somehow neglected to bring along my bathing suit. We were probably there an hour, and then decided to head back to the restaurant for some grub before comparing and contrasting this beach with the protected one. Had some chicken pinchos:
Good stuff. And cheap. Off, then, to the proteced beach. Pulled in to the parking lot, off into the grass a bit, and Janneke opened her door, exactly over the corpse of a dead dog, reeking and boiling with maggots.
You've never seen anyone close a door so fast in your life. Nor anyone shift so quickly into reverse. Luckily, no one had stepped behind the car - although, to be honest, maybe they did, I don't think I would have noticed, it was all kind o a blur - and we rocketed to the opposite end of the parking lot. And walked from there over to the beach, where Q and T swam out to the rock shelf that protected them and explored it. Behold!
The glory of the zoom. They found a few parrot fish beaks, and brought them back (no pics, sorry), as well as a number of shells and washed-up, broken-off bits of coral. Janneke and I were content to stay on shore this time. We passed the time quietly, tenderly berating each other for our failings and muttering over a series of long-standing grievances. It was nice.
On to supper, where we ordered far too much food, for which we paid far too much, at a restaurant called...Well, read the menu:
Some of the food was done over a wood fire:
And some of which was served in coconuts, freshly macheted open:
It was OK stuff. Better be, for what we paid for it. Then into the car (some locals had parked us in, forcing me to back out and come within millimeters of scratching their car. Millimeters. Though it could have been centimeters - I wanted to make a point. They had parked frickin' perpendicular to the obvious orientation of the lot and of the people (us) already parked there. Bastards.
I then missed an exit, forcing us to go across a bay we'd never crossed before, into a region of the city we knew well, whence we were able to easily find our way home again. Probably 25 minutes all told in the car getting back. Not bad. To bed! To rest for the coming day!
Today. Which began in the morning, with a trip to the Children's Museum, where a cupcake-decorating workshop was to be held. The museum would open at nine or ten, so we were into the old city pretty quickly - and it turns out, you can park aaaaaaaanywhere at 9:20 AM down there. That's the key. We parked and strolled in a leisurely fashion to the children's museum, located, some of you will recall, on the world's most beautiful street.
The museum opens on Saturdays, turns out, at noon.
No matter! Off to explore a bit of Old San Juan! Snapped some potential Christmas Card photos, found a little public park with a public basketball court and tennis court, and a little pink building with volunteers working inside, and two dozen cats lounging about in the grass and among the trees outside. A big sign there said that they were a charitable organization, run by volunteers, that dedicates itself solely to (1) trapping, (2) sterilizing, and (3) caring for, in ways both alimentary and veterinary, the feral cats of Old San Juan. Many of which, it appears from our chin-scratching survey, have now become very far from feral. Some great, beautiul cats prowling around down there - and they adopt them out to good homes, if any of you are interested:
There was also a mango tree dropping ripe fruit in that park. I ate some. Great, great stuff.
And there was a pelican:
And a tunnel:
And a guy selling piraguas (Puerto Rican snow cones):
And a bench upon which to sit while eating piraguas:
On to do some souvenir shopping. Q, interestingly, really wants a large, detailed map of Puerto Rico for his room. (BY THE WAY: Q is about 50 pages into an adventure novel for young people set in Puerto Rico and written by a Puerto Rican author and he's reading it IN SPANISH! We are so excited we can't breathe!) We didn't find a decent map, but we did find a gift, which T sneaked over to me and whispered that she wanted to secretly buy for Mami. So Q distracted her while we bought it, and then we presented it to her as we sat at the table outside of a place where we had a nearly-noon snack:
The owner of which has adopted one or two of the formerly feral cats, and accepts donations for the care of the yet-to-be-adopted:
And on to the dang children's museum, where the cupcake workshop had been postponed. Why? "Porque la persona que iba a liderar el taller, está de viaje." (Because the person who was going to lead the workshop, is on a trip.) Veeeeery weak. But we went in anyway, to learn that the men's bathroom wasn't working, and the kids' favorite display / manipulative learning area was out of order. Much less enamored of that museum are we right now. Still, they did some crafty stuff and had fun.
Home again, where we divided & conquered: I took Clarabelle for her travel health certificate, and Janneke took the kids shopping and to the beach, where we would meet up.
Except that it took me four hours to get the certificate.
FOUR HOURS! THey don't accept appointments at this place, they just have you come in and you're attended to in the order of your appearance. Four friggin' hours! Long story short, we have the certificate, and I was home in time for supper and a movie. And now the kids are in bed and tomorrow's friggin' Sunday and I am going to rest myself heavily and well. It has been a long day. A good one, to be sure, but a long one.
Sleep well, gentle reader. I hope I do.
The morning appears to have gone by uneventfully, because I do not recall anything from it. So we'll just leave that there. Although I do recall this: I did project stuff, and Janneke went off to meet up with a Williams student of hers who is from Puerto Rico. And who says her family wants to have us over for dinner. I'll believe it when I see it.
Post-lunch, we loaded up the car and headed to Piñones, a spot up the coast toward the East from here that all the Puerto Ricans tell us we have to get to, but which appears to go unmentioned in most of the guide-book-type material we have or have seen. The idea is that it's home to a large population of Puerto Ricans of African descent, that they sell food in lots of kiosks, that the beaches are protected and lovely, and that there's some sort of walkway that you ride bicycles on. So off we went.
Zoomed there in under twenty minutes via the highway. Unbelievable, how fast the Kia Sol can get one around a place.
We found this funny:
"Postal police"? Do they really need a car?
Following directions I got from a guy on the beach a couple weeks ago, we drove until we saw a school, then found a spot to park on the right hand side of the road; the left hand side, where there were bushes, would lead to the beach. So we pulled into the parking lot of a roadside eatery, where two elderly men were sitting at the rear of the parking lot. I approached them and asked if they allowed people to use their lot.
"We do," one of them said, "but we ask for three dollars in return."
"Fair and reasonable," I proclaimed, handed him $3, and gave him a firm handshake.
He smiled broadly. "Con toda confianza," he said. "Lo estaremos vigilando desde acá." Don't worry, we'll be watching it from here.
Both men were black, as was everyone working in or lounging in front of the restaurant. So far, the rumors were true.
Across the road there were stairs that led over the bushy dune and onto the beach. (There was also a dead cat and a lot of garbage.) And once we topped the dune, we could see that the beach was very different from Condado - Thundering surf, and strewn with all kinds of (mostly natural) ocean flotsam. (Or is it jetsam?) Coconuts, logs, leaves, shells, sea glass galore. And quite a bit of garbage. And, like I said, a thundering, pounding surf, with a number of surfers bobbing off shore.
Less true, that bit about the protected beach. Here it is:
Very pretty, but very far from calm. Still, we had passed a beach where there was a natural stone wall that divided an area, thirty yards across and four hundred long, from the pounding surf; we'd kept driving because it was so crowded. So maybe I had misheard the directions slightly. This beach had going for it the fact that apart from the surfers, who stayed out to sea a bit, we had the place to ourselves. And which also made us regret not bringing Clarabelle.
Though getting past the dead cat without the kids noticing would probably have been a lot trickier.
So we all frolicked in the heavy waves, which was a lot of fun. Like a carnival ride, throwing you up and then down. Kids enjoyed it, as you can see:
I was enjoying myself all the more with the strange thrill that one (apparently) gets when running around in public in one's underwear, as I had somehow neglected to bring along my bathing suit. We were probably there an hour, and then decided to head back to the restaurant for some grub before comparing and contrasting this beach with the protected one. Had some chicken pinchos:
Good stuff. And cheap. Off, then, to the proteced beach. Pulled in to the parking lot, off into the grass a bit, and Janneke opened her door, exactly over the corpse of a dead dog, reeking and boiling with maggots.
You've never seen anyone close a door so fast in your life. Nor anyone shift so quickly into reverse. Luckily, no one had stepped behind the car - although, to be honest, maybe they did, I don't think I would have noticed, it was all kind o a blur - and we rocketed to the opposite end of the parking lot. And walked from there over to the beach, where Q and T swam out to the rock shelf that protected them and explored it. Behold!
The glory of the zoom. They found a few parrot fish beaks, and brought them back (no pics, sorry), as well as a number of shells and washed-up, broken-off bits of coral. Janneke and I were content to stay on shore this time. We passed the time quietly, tenderly berating each other for our failings and muttering over a series of long-standing grievances. It was nice.
On to supper, where we ordered far too much food, for which we paid far too much, at a restaurant called...Well, read the menu:
Some of the food was done over a wood fire:
And some of which was served in coconuts, freshly macheted open:
It was OK stuff. Better be, for what we paid for it. Then into the car (some locals had parked us in, forcing me to back out and come within millimeters of scratching their car. Millimeters. Though it could have been centimeters - I wanted to make a point. They had parked frickin' perpendicular to the obvious orientation of the lot and of the people (us) already parked there. Bastards.
I then missed an exit, forcing us to go across a bay we'd never crossed before, into a region of the city we knew well, whence we were able to easily find our way home again. Probably 25 minutes all told in the car getting back. Not bad. To bed! To rest for the coming day!
Today. Which began in the morning, with a trip to the Children's Museum, where a cupcake-decorating workshop was to be held. The museum would open at nine or ten, so we were into the old city pretty quickly - and it turns out, you can park aaaaaaaanywhere at 9:20 AM down there. That's the key. We parked and strolled in a leisurely fashion to the children's museum, located, some of you will recall, on the world's most beautiful street.
The museum opens on Saturdays, turns out, at noon.
No matter! Off to explore a bit of Old San Juan! Snapped some potential Christmas Card photos, found a little public park with a public basketball court and tennis court, and a little pink building with volunteers working inside, and two dozen cats lounging about in the grass and among the trees outside. A big sign there said that they were a charitable organization, run by volunteers, that dedicates itself solely to (1) trapping, (2) sterilizing, and (3) caring for, in ways both alimentary and veterinary, the feral cats of Old San Juan. Many of which, it appears from our chin-scratching survey, have now become very far from feral. Some great, beautiul cats prowling around down there - and they adopt them out to good homes, if any of you are interested:
There was also a mango tree dropping ripe fruit in that park. I ate some. Great, great stuff.
And there was a pelican:
And a tunnel:
And a guy selling piraguas (Puerto Rican snow cones):
And a bench upon which to sit while eating piraguas:
On to do some souvenir shopping. Q, interestingly, really wants a large, detailed map of Puerto Rico for his room. (BY THE WAY: Q is about 50 pages into an adventure novel for young people set in Puerto Rico and written by a Puerto Rican author and he's reading it IN SPANISH! We are so excited we can't breathe!) We didn't find a decent map, but we did find a gift, which T sneaked over to me and whispered that she wanted to secretly buy for Mami. So Q distracted her while we bought it, and then we presented it to her as we sat at the table outside of a place where we had a nearly-noon snack:
The owner of which has adopted one or two of the formerly feral cats, and accepts donations for the care of the yet-to-be-adopted:
And on to the dang children's museum, where the cupcake workshop had been postponed. Why? "Porque la persona que iba a liderar el taller, está de viaje." (Because the person who was going to lead the workshop, is on a trip.) Veeeeery weak. But we went in anyway, to learn that the men's bathroom wasn't working, and the kids' favorite display / manipulative learning area was out of order. Much less enamored of that museum are we right now. Still, they did some crafty stuff and had fun.
Home again, where we divided & conquered: I took Clarabelle for her travel health certificate, and Janneke took the kids shopping and to the beach, where we would meet up.
Except that it took me four hours to get the certificate.
FOUR HOURS! THey don't accept appointments at this place, they just have you come in and you're attended to in the order of your appearance. Four friggin' hours! Long story short, we have the certificate, and I was home in time for supper and a movie. And now the kids are in bed and tomorrow's friggin' Sunday and I am going to rest myself heavily and well. It has been a long day. A good one, to be sure, but a long one.
Sleep well, gentle reader. I hope I do.
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Night-Life. With Children.
Another dreary day in boring-ol' San Juan for us downtrodden, travel-weary hoboes.
Not really, though. In the morning Janneke trooped off to do some work, and I cleaned the apartment, as I think I mentioned in the post I wrote earlier today. Not completely, mind you - no bathrooms, no linen changes, no ceiling waxing. But I got the major areas, including the desk I use as my little office, which was just coated in dust. And I changed the kitty litter and cleaned the box, rearranged and condensed the trash / recycling / poop bag area, swept pretty thoroughly around the -
Hey! Wake up!
Man, your attention span is for shyte. So while I cleaned, T and Q played and played and played, either on the computer (limited time for that) or with each other. They just get on so dang well, those two. It's a real joy. And it gave me time to finish up the dishes. There's no dishwasher here, see, so the system I've come up with is the following: The right-hand sink, I use or the washing, while the left-hand sink -
Hellooooo!? Eyes front! Heads off the desks!
Jeepers. Anyway, Janneke came home near noon time, and we switched off: I took off on a run, and following that, had the lunch that everybody else had already finished. And then I was out the door to go do project stuff.
Got some good stuff. Met some nice people.
Back to meet the fam at the beach, where I took a soothing dip in the waves. And home again, for an afternoon snack.
Not supper, though. For I had learned in my foray to the market that there would be music there this evening. (I had already kind of known it.) And my friend Basilisa suggested that I bring the family so they could see the festivities. So I did. We had supper there, at a restaurant called El Popular, amid the teeming crowds listening to from two different stages and getting drinks from any number of night-time juke joints that either operate out of outward-facing kiosks in the market place, or surround the marketplace. (The vegetable vending area was closed for the evening.) The whole block becomes an open bar in the evenings on weekends, and from what we saw, it is a beautiful, lively scene, purely Puerto Rican (I personally saw no gringos there) and fairly family-oriented. As family-oriented as a bar scene can be, I guess - there were a few kids in strollers and holding hands with parents there. Check it out:
So we settled in at El Popular. Here we are:
Here they are, I should say. The kid in the background with the earphones was there with his parents. He said nothing to them the entire time, and they said nothing to him, and they said almost nothing to each other. Lovely scene. Hey, I guess, at least they were together. (I mean that sincerely, by the way. It's like the guy we saw at the recycling center the other day who just dropped off his bag of cans and didn't bother to put them into the bin like everybody else, just dropped them and drove off, hardly even stopped. I thought, "Jerk!" And then I added, sheepishly, "...who drives all the way to the recycling center with his sorted recycleables rather than just toss them in the trash.")
And here's our food:
Good stuff. They were out of fish, unfortunately, so Janneke just had the rice and beans. (She had suspected as much, so had loaded up on veggies before we left the house.)
My only real complaint is that the music was so friggin' loud. In between acts, they piped dance beats at ridiculous levels through the amps. Here, let me show you:
I mean, holy canole. But our evening ended with a nice stroll home, and dessert in the house. (We had tried to find a guy selling piraguas whom we'd seen before dinner, but he'd called it a night or otherwise disappeared before we got done with supper.) T wanted to troop to the top of the building we're staying in to check out the skyline view, so she, Q and I did that while Janneke dashed back to the apartment to enjoy the air conditioning. The view was nice, and Q had the idea that we could take the elevator back down to the ground floor and then up to 2, which would be less walking than going down the 6 floors from the roof to 2. I agreed to it.
But I should have realized that once we got out of the elevator on G, we would have no access to the stairwell without the keys, which Janneke had back in the apartment. So we had to buzz her to come let us in to the stairwell. She came down, in her pajamas. You should have seen the look on her face.
I did not take a picture.
And here endeth the blog post. Its nearly 11:00, and I have a 7:00 AM appointment for project stuff, so I'll be hitting the hay. Keep the porch light on for us, folks. Won't be long now.
Not really, though. In the morning Janneke trooped off to do some work, and I cleaned the apartment, as I think I mentioned in the post I wrote earlier today. Not completely, mind you - no bathrooms, no linen changes, no ceiling waxing. But I got the major areas, including the desk I use as my little office, which was just coated in dust. And I changed the kitty litter and cleaned the box, rearranged and condensed the trash / recycling / poop bag area, swept pretty thoroughly around the -
Hey! Wake up!
Man, your attention span is for shyte. So while I cleaned, T and Q played and played and played, either on the computer (limited time for that) or with each other. They just get on so dang well, those two. It's a real joy. And it gave me time to finish up the dishes. There's no dishwasher here, see, so the system I've come up with is the following: The right-hand sink, I use or the washing, while the left-hand sink -
Hellooooo!? Eyes front! Heads off the desks!
Jeepers. Anyway, Janneke came home near noon time, and we switched off: I took off on a run, and following that, had the lunch that everybody else had already finished. And then I was out the door to go do project stuff.
Got some good stuff. Met some nice people.
Back to meet the fam at the beach, where I took a soothing dip in the waves. And home again, for an afternoon snack.
Not supper, though. For I had learned in my foray to the market that there would be music there this evening. (I had already kind of known it.) And my friend Basilisa suggested that I bring the family so they could see the festivities. So I did. We had supper there, at a restaurant called El Popular, amid the teeming crowds listening to from two different stages and getting drinks from any number of night-time juke joints that either operate out of outward-facing kiosks in the market place, or surround the marketplace. (The vegetable vending area was closed for the evening.) The whole block becomes an open bar in the evenings on weekends, and from what we saw, it is a beautiful, lively scene, purely Puerto Rican (I personally saw no gringos there) and fairly family-oriented. As family-oriented as a bar scene can be, I guess - there were a few kids in strollers and holding hands with parents there. Check it out:
So we settled in at El Popular. Here we are:
Here they are, I should say. The kid in the background with the earphones was there with his parents. He said nothing to them the entire time, and they said nothing to him, and they said almost nothing to each other. Lovely scene. Hey, I guess, at least they were together. (I mean that sincerely, by the way. It's like the guy we saw at the recycling center the other day who just dropped off his bag of cans and didn't bother to put them into the bin like everybody else, just dropped them and drove off, hardly even stopped. I thought, "Jerk!" And then I added, sheepishly, "...who drives all the way to the recycling center with his sorted recycleables rather than just toss them in the trash.")
And here's our food:
Good stuff. They were out of fish, unfortunately, so Janneke just had the rice and beans. (She had suspected as much, so had loaded up on veggies before we left the house.)
My only real complaint is that the music was so friggin' loud. In between acts, they piped dance beats at ridiculous levels through the amps. Here, let me show you:
I mean, holy canole. But our evening ended with a nice stroll home, and dessert in the house. (We had tried to find a guy selling piraguas whom we'd seen before dinner, but he'd called it a night or otherwise disappeared before we got done with supper.) T wanted to troop to the top of the building we're staying in to check out the skyline view, so she, Q and I did that while Janneke dashed back to the apartment to enjoy the air conditioning. The view was nice, and Q had the idea that we could take the elevator back down to the ground floor and then up to 2, which would be less walking than going down the 6 floors from the roof to 2. I agreed to it.
But I should have realized that once we got out of the elevator on G, we would have no access to the stairwell without the keys, which Janneke had back in the apartment. So we had to buzz her to come let us in to the stairwell. She came down, in her pajamas. You should have seen the look on her face.
I did not take a picture.
And here endeth the blog post. Its nearly 11:00, and I have a 7:00 AM appointment for project stuff, so I'll be hitting the hay. Keep the porch light on for us, folks. Won't be long now.
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