Volantines...my kite shop in Puerto Rico

October 12, 1997 was Columbus Day - 15 years since I stepped on board Ruff Life for the first time and pivoting my life in a most dramatic way.  The Captain ('Cap') and I were literally flying by the seats of our pants for we knew nothing about boating.

This story is an example of living a dream without an investment banker, lottery winnings, or even a real plan. Of course, if you need all the frills keep on slaving and saving; but how much do you really need?  Do you have a guarantee of how much time you’ve got left? Time marches on, no matter how expensive the timepiece on your wrist.

I was shell-shocked by the time Ruff Life landed in Parguera (March 1998) and declared that I wasn't moving another nautical mile; so the wheels started turning in Cap's brain.  Kite festivals abound on the island during the February and March winds and Lajas, the nearest town, held one of the largest on the island.

Cap couldn’t believe there wasn’t a kite shop around, and vowed to fill the voic.  I remember one “Sundowner,” sitting on the flybridge of Ruff Life, surveying the beautiful view and discussing how we could afford to stay, when Cap first broached the idea.  I knew little about kites myself, but helped him get started.  Most kids had been making their own or buying cheap five-dollar disposables, so Stan planned on introducing, amongst others, stunt kites in a big way. 

The name Volantines (pronounced Vō-lan-tee-nez), an old Spanish term for chiringa, or kite, was suggested by friend and local benefactor, Carl Benavent.  He lived in Parguera as a kid and would talk about how he and his friends could practically hop from reef to reef on the tops of all the Queen Conch.  No more.

Carl became a physician, retired and returned to Parguera, building the El Muelle shopping center which I’ve written about previously, including the supermarket where I worked for a spell.  For a long time El Muelle was the life of the community and the reason I declared I wasn’t moving another nautical mile.

Everything was there, including a Post Office, pharmacy, laundromat, video store, Chinese Restaurant, hairdresser, The Blues cafe and a popular surf shop.  Carl’s son, David, was my boss, and when Cap voiced his idea for the kite shop a few months after we dropped anchor, Carl and David enthusiastically agreed he could build a little shop in front of the market.  We never let the fact that we could barely speak a lick of Spanish stop us, no sirree.

The first Volantines was a 5’ x 10’ wooden kiosk, but Cap made the most of every inch of space.   Seven days a week one of us would swing open the windows, displaying a riotous selection of colorful kites, flags and windsocks we’d order from the States.  I was allowed to select most of the decorative stuff, and while he scratched his head when I opened this horse windsock, Cap was sorry I didn’t order more after it sold right away.

Caricoles, Parguera

Volantines carried every conceivable kite; box, novelty, soft and hard stunt kites.  We had the super-large stunt kites before that particular sport took off a few years after we’d closed the shop

Some boating friends used a giant one to carry them, in their inflatable, back to the anchorage after an afternoon at Caracoles, a weekend party-hangout in the shallows.  Ruff Life was always decked out, since we never moved.

In anticipation of that first festival, we optimistically ordered 400 Rage beginners stunt kites.  As the years passed, I used to joke that perhaps, once the Rages were all gone, we’d leave, too.  We sold them at every subsequent festival; I’d hawk them  in the Plaza on busy weekends when we were dead broke; we gave away dozens; tossed away the faded; and I kept one unopened package for posterity.

I never actually got a chance to attend the festivals myself. I’d remain at the shop, hawking kites, strings, and tails to the masses, assembling Rages before they walked away because the instructions were a bit confusing, and who wants a kite you can't put together?  In time I could do it with my eyes closed.  Cap, usually with visiting boaters as free assistants (r), would set up one or two tents at the festival. Tracey was particularly talented with balloons.

La Parguera is a little-known jewel on the island, and many people own second and third homes in town. Our stuff flew everywhere; from holiday flags on fairy-tale casetas to pirate flags on weekend power boats.  It was a hard sell in the beginning because it was new, but eventually people came from across the island to buy our goods.  

That’s where I got my first real taste at salesmanship. I remember one tough customer who finally asked a frequent question:

"Will it fade in the sun?" but I was tired.

“Sir,  everything fades down here eventually.  Look at me; I used to be black.”

Cap cringed when I told him the story, but the customer laughed and bought two flags. 

As boaters ourselves, we helped many cruisers who passed through the anchorage.  We lent the use of our Post Office box to receive mail parcels; took them along on shopping trips to replenish supplies (avoiding outrageous marine store prices); and helped introduce them to life in Puerto Rico. 

I must now include something about Annette Gonzalez (l), minus her second last-name which I never could remember.  Our Postmaster, she was my first friend in Parguera; sheltered us when Hurricane Georges hit in ’98; included us in all kinds of family fun; and scolded me as only an older sister can.

Annette handed me the letter from Mary’s husband in Germany, regrettably informing me of my dear friend’s passing while I was playing Horatio Hornblower, and let me cry on her shoulder.  Mary was so looking forward to John’s retirement so they could travel extensively throughout Europe.  He is now; with his new wife.  I wish them well of course, but I’m sorry Mary couldn’t enjoy the fruits of their years of sacrifice.

I wasn’t alarmed at Annette’s complaint of a cold, years later, when I left for a week-long artesan show in Old San Juan.  She was the most delightful PM; often taking the time to fill out money orders and bills for customers whose reading and writing skills were poor. Several years older than me, she looked forward to retiring and spending more time with Grand-babies but within two months she was gone.

Cap patiently taught local kids to fly their free Rages.  We watched them grow and were glad to see some stay in school, join the military or head stateside for better opportunities.  But too many became young men and women with no hope, no future and little to look forward to besides another baby.  We heard of more than one untimely death.

But there were success stories, too, such as this talented young man, who drew the perfect depiction our lives at the kite shop (top).  He went on to study art in college and I'm sure is doing well, for he was a bright, enterprising young man.  

Cap's love of reading, and my cries of “get them off the boat,” begat a wonderful, FREE, community book exchange, and eventually a permanent space was built for it. The drawing at the top was done by this young fellow, who continued his art studies at the local university. He’d follow Stan around like a puppy, often keeping watch on the flying kite Stan would tie to the roof of the kiosk, using a garden hose holder/spinner to hold the kite string.  He’d load the thing with as many tails and spinners as he could get away with.

It was terrific publicity.  From miles away people could, and would, follow the kite to get to the shopping center, which benefited everyone.  When the wind died,  people would holler at Cap, usually with his nose in a book, and he’d go racing after the kite, jumping the fence across the road.  Traffic would halt while Cap gathered up yards and yards of kite string spaghetti.

Oh my, I’d forgotten about that.  He’d plead with me to put up a kite when I was working, with little success.  I just wasn’t as enthusiastic to play Kite Runner. I was content to paint, if I wasn’t sweating. I know, women perspire, but spend much time in the tropics…you SWEAT.

Tourism was great; money was coming into the island, and the Benavents expanded the shopping center.  We built and moved into a new space; things were looking positive all-round.

And then two planes hit the Twin Towers.  Everyone on the island took a hit as tourism evaporated.  A self-taught artist, I'd become a licensed Artesan and was focusing on that; AND, as fate would have it, just when we'd decided to close Volantines in 2002 we were invited to join five other Artesans to open an artist’s cooperative in Parguera, Cayo Caribe.  The Benavents sold the shopping center but despite their verbal assertions, the new owners used it as a tax write off.  The supermarket closed then oe by one all the shops; for as pal Lizette said,

“When the U.S. has a cold, Puerto Rico gets pneumonia.”

People were fleeing the island in droves.  Before I left in 2009 I took this snapshot of El Muelle, including, but not shown, the demolished book exchange.  Cap was crushed and Carl  disappointed with the decay of his own dream, but we all dove in to new challenges.

I always meant to write about Volantines, and now I see that whenever I’ve offhandedly said, “I owned a kite shop in Puerto Rico,” I was undervaluing the experience terribly.

We lived in Parguera for over a decade, met interesting people and appeared in magazines, newspapers, books and even TV.  Collie Czar was a favorite subject, with people always stopping us in the Plaza to take a picture, shoulda charged a nickel.

Author Steve Pavlidis arrived in the anchorage while working on his (2002 1st edition) Cruising Guide to Puerto Rico.  Friends brought him along to a party on Ruff Life, Carl showed him around and Steve remained for some time, thoroughly enjoying Parguera.  We were all tickled to read Steve's lengthy depiction of Parguera, and thanking us all in his introduction.  

Too many of my friends haven't gotten the chance to do the things they dreamed of for years, so I can't help encouraging people to be a bit reckless because you can't take it with you.  

Happy Columbus Day.

For more stories of life at sea and on land in Puerto Rico, please enjoy:

Ruff Life at Sea, thank you.