El Muelle, Parguera, Then and Now

I felt invisible after a 14 year absense - a ghost wandering through La Parguera, the once-sleepy little fishing village along the southwest coast of Puerto Rico. I didn't see many familiar faces, for businesses are now owned, or run, by younger people.  I left the Plaza and walked towards El Muelle (the Dock), a strip mall where I worked shortly after arriving in 1998.

Back then, following countless open-door 'grocery' shops with dusty shelves in coastal Caribbean towns, El Muelle left me breathless.  Anchored by the most beautiful supermarket I'd seen in months, the shopping center included a Chinese restaurant, Post Office, pharmacy, surf shop, bar/cafe, video store and laundromat.  It was the proverbial Oasis in the Desert and, drenched in sweat by 8am, I declared to my then-partner, aka 'the Captain:

"That's it!  I'm done.  We live here."

The original plan was to cruise to Venezuela, but by Puerto Rico my nerves were shot; the boat was a wreck; and our cruising kitty was seriously low.  We needed money, and contemplated selling the boat once we fixed her up.  Dependable electricity was a necessity. 

Puttering along the canal in the dinghy, admiring the colorful casetas, we unrealistically dreamt of renting one for a couple months, working on Ruff Life at our leisure.  We stopped to speak to a man our age, lounging on the back deck of his cabin cruiser, Miss Kimlee.  

Juan spoke perfect English and was most congenial.  Casetas, if available, were quite expensive to rent, he told us; but when he heard we were looking to rent a place with power, he spoke to the owner of the dock where Miss Kimlee was moored (Ruff Life, the farthest right of the three).

During weekends Juan lived on Miss Kimlee, but during the week he had a plumbing business to run in San Juan, where he lived with his wife and daughters.  We'd jump back and forth between boats, and I enjoyed learning about Puerto Rico, look at this hunk, ladies!  His easy manner and sense of humor was an enjoyable interruption in our stressful days of co-habitation.  Admiring my needlepoint-in-progress, I teased, "Like Rosy Grier," and vowed to share this photo one day.

Juan hired the Captain to clean his boat for some extra cash; and when he learned of my business background, referred me to his good friend, who owned El Muelle.

"David needs office help - grab your resume and head for Supermercado El Muelle, pronto!"  I'll admit I wasn't estatic about the prospect, but at least it was something.

Preparing for Hurricane Georges

David Benevent and his father Carl built El Muelle up from virtually nothing.  Carl is a retired doctor whose practice was in the mid-West, but he dreamt of returning to the island and building a strip mall on part of his family's land.  Younger son David left his corporate job in Georgia to help him.

"You need to hire this Gringa," Juan told David.

"What am I gonna do with a Gringa?"

Turned out that David's wife, who'd kept the books, was about to give birth to their first child (who's probably graduated college by now).  With my over-qualified background I was a perfect solution to help and David thought so, too; although he did contact my last employer for a reference. OK,  but I didn't speak any Spanish.

"Don't worry - you'll pick it up.  But first I want you to understand the workings of the market; so you'll be a cashier, stock shelves, bake bread and whatever else."

Co-workers Sylvette and Ivonne

Hardest work I've ever done, and for minimum wage.  After one particularly grueling shift I returned to Ruff Life and bitched,

"When we were back in Oregon, dreaming of life in the Caribbean, baking 110 loaves of bread on a Saturday morning was not part of the picture!"

So that was pretty much my introduction to life in Puerto Rico.  I became part of a 'tribe,' included in birthdays, weddings, anniversaries and baby showers.  At my first party in July '98, I learned that guests are likely to bring along their children, friends and even neighbors.  I invited around 20 people and easily twice that many came.

I'm not a particularly creative cook so I set out what I thought was a yummy buffet, including sliced Churrasco, cold-cuts and cheese, salads, pasta, appetisers and, naturally, loaves of baked baguettes.  Juan tried talking me out of all that, "Just pick up some fried chicken and sorulliotos downtown," but I couldn't do that.  I wanted to make a good impression.

Arrival time: 7pm.  By 8 I asked Sonya, David's mother, if she thought anyone would come, We're new in town, after all.

"Oh, Honey, if I say Come to Dinner at 7, I don't even get out of the shower until 7:20.  They'll come."

And come they did; but Juan was right, since hardly anyone was touching my buffet.  Ivonne (l), who'd grown up in California but now worked at the surf shop, finally piled a couple plates with baked ziti, home-made potatoe salad and other 'foreign' food and took them around to each guest, encouraging people to try.

My guests did finally eat some food, but I still had plenty of leftovers.  A good time was had by all; until the next day, when Juan stunned us with the news that we had to leave the dock, immediately.

"Why? What happened?"

Turned out we'd invited this young couple, who were mortal enemies of the sons of the dock owner, who was the town bully.  (Sons were invited but refused to attend, no explanation.) There was no reasoning with him; we had to unplug the power and go 'on the hook' with a refrigerator full of leftovers.

We moved to a spot close to the mangroves, and while diving the anchor, Cap found an old abandoned concrete mooring.  We didn't get much wind inside the canal so we moved 'outside' where we pretty much remained anchored for over a decade (top photo).

As it turned out, the whole thing was a blessing-in-disguise, for two months later, when Category 4 Hurricane Georges came through, Cap moved Ruff Life back to that sunken mooring.  We put out 5 anchors in preparation, and while a couple broke loose, we remained fixed to that mooring (note the little red-roofed hut, both photos).

There were lots of kite festivals around the island but no kite shop, so in December Cap opened the island's first kite shop, Volantines, thanks to Carl B, who also suggested the name.  He allowed Cap to build a little 5'x10' shop in the parking area, and once people got used to the Gringos, they flocked to pick up colorful flags and windsocks to decorate their coastal homes.  Cap would teach local kids how to fly stunt kites in the empty field across from the market, and I'd help mind the shop on my days off.

El Muelle had a wonderful gourmet section, which David allowed me to manage.  I'd drool over sales catalogs of delacacies I couldn't possibly afford but which affluent customers requested.  The market was often the first stop for weekenders, so between the market and our shop outside, we met loads of people from various economic and social classes, many who became good friends.

Like Ramos, the local Policia, who befriended us early on and helped out on more than one occasion.  After he put the word out to leave the Gringos alone, we ceased having our car battery stolen or any other problems and we had, of course, a certain sense of relief.  It was one more step towards becoming accepted.

The original Blues Cafe  was bought by a friend of ours and renamed El Manglar, now the Sand Bar.  No matter the owner, it was really nice to get together with locals, boaters and/or Gringos; and TV broadcasts of stateside football games became a crowd pleaser.

After a couple years we moved into a larger space when Carl decided to add a number of enclosed spaces with decks in front of the market, including an ice cream parlor.  To save money on a new sign, I painted over an unused one of David's.

I began painting in earnest and selling my pieces in the shop.  I taught folk art painting for a time in the Michaels Craft Store in Mayaguez, where I usually spent most of my salary on unpainted items and art supplies.  

Eventually gourds took over my attention and I left El Muelle to go all-in with Volantines.  We were enthusiastic about the growth of our business, and life in Puerto Rico seemed to be on track towards our dreams. 

Hiccup:  9-11 derailed everything, but that's a different part of the story.

The Benevents sold El Muelle around the same time as I left (2009), and they eventually moved back to the U.S.  They were just as much Family to me as my other Island families, and I'll always be grateful for their friendship and support.  It was bittersweet to leave them, it didn't seem quite real; but life evolves, for lack of a better word.

I'll end this part of my story here.  Over the years, people asked how I wound up living in Puerto Rico, yada yada, and whether I still have friends there.  More than I was able to visit in 2 short weeks but it stands to reason, since it's been the longest single place I've lived since 18.

Now that you've read the story behind El Muelle, imagine what I was thinking when I first revisited the shops last March:

The once-empty field

Ho-hum, life goes on.

  

Next up:  On the Waterfront, Parguera-Style

Here's Reconnecting with Puerto Rico from the beginning.