Reconnecting with Puerto Rico, Pt. 1

I don't know how or where to begin to describe what was an absolutely WONDERFUL vacation back in my old stomping grounds.  Right off the bat I realized I should've taken at least 3 weeks, but oh well. I've whittled my photos down to just over 100, impossible to use them all.  But naturally, as I'm going through my new photos and old, I'm also taking a trip down memory lane.  No telling if I'll ever get my stories down in book form, so I'd better put them out here.

I first arrived in Puerto Rico by boat in 1998; I returned to the U.S. in 2009; and have never returned for a visit, until now.  I told friends I couldn't return until BC was no longer with me, but in fact I brought her along (the glass heart necklace).  The silver ship's wheel I picked up from one of the artesans in la Parguera's new plaza, as a reminder of 12 years on Ruff Life.  I'm a very different woman now because of those years, but as rough as they were, I wouldn't trade a moment.

I packed all the wrong clothes, you'd think after all that time I'd know better; but it wasn't as cool in the mountains as I'd thought, and I never did go into the water. But my main intention was to visit my friends, who I'd not seen for 14 years.  (Map shows western PR, with underlined towns for reference.)

Miguel texted me at the San Juan airport but of course I don't recognize my own phone; so as I approached the carousel, there he was.  We recognized one another instantly (he said it was my smile). The pounds Miguel lost last year during his illness, I found after BC's passing, but our faces remain the same, who cares about wrinkles and grey hair?

The last time I saw Miguel and Nelida was at my going-away lunch back in 2009, with their family (the Captain was out of the picture by then).  Therefore, when Miguel said we were stopping at his son's house before heading home from the airport, I was delighted.

Both sons have good heads on their shoulders, and have inherited Miguel's artistic aptitude.  Ty (still hairless) has learned it's better to be a well-paid tattoo artist than a starving artist, and now has his own business and a young son.  I'm already planning a future tattoo for my next visit.

Marco, also an artist, has focused his attention on buying, renovating and selling properties since the mid-2000's, among other businesses.  During one week-long festival in Old San Juan, he and his bride put me up in their house, right in the middle of Old Town.

The windows hadn't yet been installed so the all-night party in the streets below was clearly audible, and I was awakened in the morning by hungry squeals from their two pot-bellied pigs, but I didn't mind these new experiences.  I couldn't have imagined this back in my old, corporage job in The Big Apple, plus I was grateful to have a place to sleep.

Marco and his wife no longer own the pigs; they've moved to and from Florida in the interum; and now own a gorgeous property in the hills of Carolina, outside of San Juan.  The part of the house sectioned off for a B&B is spacious and comfortable, keeps them part-time busy.

Their young daughter is their pride and joy, and despite my general aversion to children, I couldn't resist Kay, I'll call her.  Family photos line the walls, and as I looked at the progression of Marco's life I asked,

"How old are you?"

Forty, I heard him say.

"You can't be 40...I'm 40..."

About the age I was when I stepped on to Ruff Life.  Marco and 'J' have finally worked their way up to their dream home.  In addition to planning future gardens, they're building a darling 'tiny house' for J's mother, for when she's ready to give up her own home; but in the meantime it's her nice, private getaway.  Family means everything to my friends.

One of the first things Miguel talked about was a boa constrictor he'd recently trapped on his property.  I was skeptical until he showed a photo on his phone, you'll have to take my word since he's worse about using his phone than I am.  And yes, it was huge.

Great, I thought, not wanting to be paranoid about living in their jungle/rain forest in Mayaguez (circled area on map) but boa constrictors?  Turns out the boa population on the island is growing, since some got loose somewhere (pets, probably).  Same thing happened with chimpanzees prior to 1998.

My friends like their privacy, here's the road leading to their driveway.  At one time I might have been scared of lions and tigers and bears; but I'm not the same person I used to be, as I said.  And besides, I vowed to roll with whatever I might confront, at any time during my vacation.  Turned out that nothing became an issue.

Their dog, Reinita, initially alerted Miguel to the boa and later alerted us to an iguana caught in the rafters, look at this guy's tail.  Before we could do anything, he managed to get his foot free and took off running.  I slept under a mosquito net, and had mailed down a small fan to use-then-leave, I like having a slight breeze at night.  I'd have to take my chances with anything else slithering or creeping into my room on 4 legs, that sounds nasty.

Miguel has built his home himself; adding to it year after year, with a handful of future projects in the back of his mind.  It's impossible to tell, on any of my friend's properties, how large their parcels of land really are...they seem to go on forever.  Here's a photo from earlier days - Thanksgiving 2007.

At the time, the bathroom was a rustic room outside the home; would it be the same during my visit?  Wouldn't matter, but it was delightful to discover their NEW bathroom, still disconnected from the main building but hardly an 'outhouse'.  They have a roof connecting the 'out' buildings which reminds me of Japanese-style homes, for some reason. 

Each weekend Nellie drives up to the north shore to spend one day with her Mom in Quebradillas, which I kept calling Quesadillas.  She also calls her each evening, putting Mom on speaker-phone so she can feel part of their lives.

Milagros is now 94, and reminded me we'd met at a stateside wedding in 2010. Here she is (below), confidently chopping veggies at 80, shown in Nellie's kitchen (now expanded).  I hope I'm as sharp as she is at 94.  One of N's brothers lives in the house now as Mom's caretaker, but all the siblings seem to visit as often as possible.

I already knew one of Nellie's brother, who I've incorrectly called Michael since our first meeting, for some unknown reason.  He no longer minds and it's become a family joke.  I introduced him to some friends outside Plaza las Americas (around 2005):

"Carol, Dave, this is Nellie's brother, Michael."

"Omar," he added.

"Michael Omar," I corrected myself.

"No, just Omar."

"Who's Michael?

"I don't know...you've been calling me that since we met!"

During the day, while Nellie worked, Miguel and I would talk up a storm about anything and everything.  It was a good visit for all of us, for while I was feeling happier than I'd felt in almost a year, Miguel and Nellie were reconnecting after 13 years of M's Mom living with them until her death at age 99; plus M's medical issues.  They each confided that my coming was a good thing for this-reason-and-that, which gave me warm fuzzies.  They've asked me to come live with them and I've not closed the door on that idea; but Mom always said,

"You must first put something in your consciousness before it can manifest itself in your experience."

To continue:  Adventures in Guanica, thanks for reading!