Good Works - Expats in Puerto Rico

I took one last stroll around la Parguera,  hoping I might see someone I knew but forgetting where everyone lived.  From El Muelle I walked up the hill and back around to one of the older neighborhoods.  The houses are mostly single story, made of cement, and very close together.  Palm trees, bougainvillea and plants I can't name turned these modest homes into little paradises.  Coquis, dogs, roosters, children, boom boxes and vegetable truck announcements cracked the Paradise veneer a bit, but for over a decade it was home.

Property ownership and inheritance laws in Puerto Rico are extremely complicated; and without documentation, which many do not possess (considering the island's colonial history), legal matters entailing estates can go unresolved for decades. The story I heard is that way-back-when (1960's?) the Puerto Rican government told Parguera residents that they would deed them the land where they lived providing they put up a 4 foot fence; so just about everyone has a fence, as you see.  I hardly understand it so cannot possibly explain it - take it at face value, it's just a story.

I met the Works the first year I was in Parguera (1998).  Ginger and Bert, both retired school teachers, were 'Snow-Birds' from Maine, and after one enjoyable vacation bought a 3-bedroom home in town (top photo), when prices were still reasonable.

Ginger was chatting with Postmaster Annette at the door of the USPS Contract Station (right, at the back), which the Benevents included in their strip-mall, El Muelle.  I was on my way to open Volantines, following an argument with the Captain; trouble tying up the dinghy; then maneuvering through the rowdy crowd of sweaty young people so early in the day.

"Grrr, town's full of tourists and shit!"

Ginger was speechless, but Annette knew me.

"Good morning to you, too," she laughed, then introduced us. Ginger and Bert flew down each November and stayed through April.  They loved being near the water, and spent much of their time walking the beach in Guanica for seashells.  At least twice a week, they'd walk all the way to the tip then back, eyes down. (Parguera doesn't have a beach per-se).

Over time they developed quite a shell collection, considering they didn't snorkel.  They loved to come out to the boat, and occasionally joined us on our snorkeling/beachcombing trips to the outer spits of islands in our hard-shelled Livingston dinghy (r).

Before

We all loved it when Carmen (from C's Shell Shop) took us to some of her favorite spots, much farther out, on her mid-size power boat.  She taught me everything I know about shells, like the best ways to get the animals out of their shells (hang 'em and wait for the occupant to drop, l).

After

Hey, if you're buying stuff in a tourist shop, munching on Conch Fritters or collecting shells yourself, this is how you separate the animal from its shell, at least without damaging the shell.  The fishermen sold the meat to local restaurants.  Same scenario as cows and beef, please don't judge. 

By the time I returned to the States in 2009, I had a pretty nice collection.  Unfortunately, poverty forced me to sell off most of the best ones, and the remainder are in buckets in storage.

But two good things came out of it:  I became pen-pals with Rick, a collector himself who guided me through the Ebay process of starting bids, assuring me the bids would rise, which they did, phenomenally. It was enough to pay my delinquint rent and not get tossed out on the street, thanks again, Rick.  The next month I started receiving SSI.  

Ginger spent hours making little shell creations for friends using  her 'craft' shells, while Bert puttered in the garden, constantly battling the elements in his quest for a green lawn.  As time went along, they offered to store items in their home which couldn't stay on the boat, like my sewing machine.  Eventually, one closet was packed with show equipment and buckets upon buckets of completed gourds.

As soon as the varnish was dry I'd move my finished piece to their home for safekeeping.  Ginger always had first dibs, so over time they developed a pretty nice collection of those, too, such as Flamingo Flo on top of their shell cabinet (l).  I would have liked to show off the pieces which never made it out of their house, but that's just ego. Ginger would insist on paying, so if I couldn't give her something outright, I'd name a really good price, we had such arguments.

During most trips on land we'd stop to say hello, share a cup of coffee and play catch-up.  I couldn't put a price on their help; indeed, I couldn't have managed my Artesan life without them.  Cap and I would dinghy to shore, pick up our van (parked in the public lot), drop off Czar, grab our stuff out of the closet and head for the show, no matter how early.

Maya, Bert, Czar

After the show we'd perform the reverse; week after month after year.  It wasn't the easiest, but at least we were confident Czar was well cared for.  Maya, the sato pup Cap found and which they adopted, just loved him.

Higueras, the indigenous gourd from the Calabash tree, are technically a fruit you cannot consume.  Full of moisture and seeds, watermelon-sizes (10-15 pounds when ripe) can take up to 6 months to dry in the sun, after which they are as durable as a hardwood.  We kept as many as possible on Ruff Life's deck, but as my hobby became my business, there wasn't enough space.

Bert and Ginger offered their roof, I can't believe I never took a photo. Cap would climb up a shaky wooden ladder attached to the back of the house and turn the higueras periodically, so as not to develop a 'flat' spot.  Smaller ones (orange size) dried pretty fast, so neighbors would return those blown off the roof and landing in their yards like cannonballs.

After a couple years, they asked if we would help keep an eye on their home, later including Maya, during the summer when they returned to their home along the coast of Maine.  I was excited because it meant I could enjoy hot showers and keep the freezer packed with Joey's ice cream, neither of which I could do on Ruff Life.  They also had air conditioning in their bedroom, which felt wonderful during breezeless night.  It was always a nice break from the boat, but then I was happy to return home myself.

We worked on large-scale projects during the summer, when we had the luxury of continuous power and running water, and didn't have to worry about putting everything away before going home.  It wa also convenient while working on boat repairs, plus we saved money not constantly buying diesel to run the motor for electricity.

 Here's the dinghy after one refurbishment.  Cap added the piece of wood in the front for more support, since I drove the dinghy into the dock like a battering ram, I have no depth perception.

I think Bert and Ginger thought of themselves as surrogate parents, since we were closer to their children's ages.  (Pic: Bert wanted to learn to paint to gain some basic skills; even the flowry-Rosemaling project I was teaching in Michaels at the time.)

We introduced our friends to our new friends on land and sea, and we met their family and other Stateside visitors. In the small community of Parguera, English speakers got to know one another pretty quickly and we were always running into one another, especially at El Muelle.  Other Snowbirds and Ex-Pats increased their social network, since neither spoke Spanish and most of their neighbors didn't speak English.

One exception was Billy (center r), who was their official property caretaker when they were away.  Billy and Lolita lived across the street, and Billy earned some extra money helping Bert take care of their house.  Lolita loves to cook and was always bringing over pasteles, empanadillas or cookies.

During the summer, in addition to caring for Bert's lawn, Billy would tackle one of Bert's projects.  Thankfully, Lolita gave the place a good scrubbing before B&G returned, waxing floors and washing screens, since I'm not the greatest housekeeper.

One summer, Billy's project was building a retaining wall behind their house.  Every time the next door neighbor used their washing machine, the water drained into B&G's property.  The neighbor didn't care and wasn't going to do anything; thus Bert's Wall.  Billy enjoys painting and prepared little sketches relating to his annual project (r).  Czar would plant himself in front of a fan while on land or on the boat, to explain the drawing.

After Billy built the wall, Bert asked me to paint a mural with specific elements, like the volcano and the cove, I visualized Diamondhead.  I was nervous because I hadn't done anything large like this before, but he was convinced I could do it, and was happy with the result. This was literally as far away from the wall as I could get; just a walkway between the house and wall.  But at least through their bedroom windows they had a nicer view.

I was in the States at a show when Czar passed away, but our wonderful vet, Dr. Deborah, came to the house when it was time, sweet boy.  Czar's buried on Gayle's property, I wrote about that in Adventures in Guanica.

Ginger died a couple years after I left the island, and Bert died within several years after that.  They were good people; loving, kind, thoughtful; each with a great sense of humor.  They were thoroughly enjoying their retirement.  Well-suited for one another (second marriage for both), I don't recall a single time I heard a cross word between them.

After they passed, the property went to one of Bert's sons, who died not too long after that.  It was sold somewhere along the way, that's all I know.

But I was disappointed to see my friend's former house and wall stark white, completely devoid of personality.  Looks like they ripped out the bushes and most of the trees, and my mural is certainly gone, too.  It felt like my memories had been whitewashed, and I suddenly needed grounding.

So I looked across the street, stood at the locked gate and hollered like the Evangelicals, "Buenas dias!  Buenas dias!"  until I heard rustling inside.  I wasn't sure who might answer the door, but delighted to see Billy.  Lolita came out and I was invited in for a drink and empanadillas.

Billy's living room mural

Oddly enough, we didn't really talk about Ginger and Bert; I think it would have brought a sadness into our happy reunion.  Billy and Lolita looked well, children fine and grandchildren grown with careers in the U.S.  We talked about the changes in Parguera, and I tried giving them a synopsis of my life since 2009.

We exchanged phone numbers and I left with the nice feeling that I'll most likely see them again, but hopefully it won't be as long as 14 years.

I didn't know my vacation last March would spark these trips down memory lane, but I prefer to write comprehensive stories rather than chronological events.  I've only got one more to write to finish up...thanks for reading, hope you enjoy!

Finally:  Wrapping Up Puerto Rico

Read Reconnecting with Puerto Rico from the beginning.