Beaches

I have heard the Caribbean beaches are nice. I'm sitting outside enjoying my view and the sounds of the tropics when I hear a voice from the top of the canyon yelling "REGINA!!!! WANT TO GO TO THE BEACH???!!!" It's Janet, and I reply, "GIVE ME 5 MINUTES!!" -Just enough time to change into my bathing suit, grab sunblock and sunglasses, flip flops and hike up the trail. Janet is spunky as ever, smoking a bowl as I get into the car. She has a cooler of rum and juice. That's my girl!

We take a 10 minute drive toward a part of the island called Esperanza, through winding roads flanked by lush green trees. We part onto a sandy road that leads to the waterfront, a wade cove with fallen coconuts, palm trees, white sand and light green shallow water. We're at Sun Bay Beach.

The sun is direct and the natural palms are just draped enough to provide some needed shade. The beach is vacant and we have an entire cooler of drinks to work on. Janel smokes another bowl then we both take a dip in the water, which is about 80 degrees. She swims clear to the other end of the beach while I stay near our things by the shore to make sure no one gets any funny ideas. The cops eventually come around on their buggies and I wave as they pass. Another day in paradise . . .

The Routine

The routine has finally set in. I wake up, crawl out of my king-sized bamboo swinging bed that's suspended by rope from the ceiling and draped in mosqito netting. I look around the floor to make sure I don't step on a cockroach, frog, lizard or tarantula, walk down the stairs and open the wide doors unto the pristine view of the sun rising over the hills to the East. I ignite the lanterns and candles and listen to the morning sounds. Most of my days are spent in silence and in thought. I grab my recorder and make up songs or just play some that already exist. Some songs are simply impossible to play because the recorder has a very limited range. Also, it is designed for a right-handed person and being left-handed poses a problem for the left pinky.

After my lesson, I go into town, charge the computer, my camera battery, the Vado, my two phones, and download movies. I buy some food and hitch a ride home (which people offer freely and it's very safe here during the day). The sun is hot but begins to set. I make some more food. Usually, the food I eat is canned, as there is no refrigeration and carrying ice to my house is a joke considering the 50 minute hike uphill, in addition to the trail on which I have to use a machete to pass. I hate to waste food, so I give my leftovers to Ella, my new black lab who actually belongs to the neighbors (but she stays with me every night). My laptop is charged just long enough to watch an episode of Bizarre Foods. It's the only entertainment of the day.

As I wind down, I blow out my lights, climb into bed, carefully placing the mosquito netting all around, and sleep for a solid 6 hours before starting my routine around 4 a.m. all over again.

Sunrise, sunset.

Sun is shining, the weather is sweet

Occupying Time

To my surprise, I discovered a big box of paint, pens, paper, oil pastels, colored pencils, charcoal and a few blocks of wood for canvas. I found a recorder, some books, journals from past tenants with drawings and poetry. I know I finally have a way to occupy my time when the sun goes down and I'm only left with my thoughts and the stars. Rather than twiddling my thumbs, I can now paint! Many nights have been spent reading about the history of Vieques and the naval occupation during WW11. I also write, draw and paint. I simply watch the sun rise and set.

I am keenly familiar with the sounds of animals during the day and the symphony of sound from the bugs at night. Frogs hop, lizards jump and crawl, cockroaches skitter, mice are eaten by Milton, the cat. Wild horses rustle and stampede in the bushes out front, iguanas weigh heavilly on tree branches, momma and baby birds have their chirping lessons from sunrise to sunset. Crickets scream and mosquitos and bees buzz at polar octives.

The Casita

When I left Costa Rica, I had not known how it had prepared me for Vieques until I arrived.

I flew out of San Jose with a layover in Ft. Lauderdale and another connection flight to Vieques. While in the San Juan airport in Puerto Rico, I met a New Yorker whose family is from PR. He was visiting for a funeral. His flight was also not for about 8 hours so he invited me to have a couple of drinks on the beach with he and his cousin. He seemed trustworthy enough, so we took a cab and dropped off my bags at his hotel room and headed for a fun local bar that's open 24 hours a day.

After filling our cups, we head to the beach where we find an outdoor restaurant that is closed but has left out their couches in the sand. So we kick off our flip flops and enjoy the full moon with a couple of cold drinks. We walk barefoot through the sand and back to the hotel, both exhausted, and we sleep for a couple of hours before taking a cab back to the airport.

I catch my flight but they miss theirs. My plane is a puddle-jumper with only 8 seats. Just another woman and I are on the plane, so the pilot lets me sit in the co-captain's chair for the 15 minute ride. This is exquisite for me as I had never seen the world from this perspective! The controls seem remedial for such a complicated job. The hills are green, the water glassy, clouds all around.

We arrive at the Vieques airport and upon stepping off the plane, I know I'm in the Caribbean. The warm tropical air, and a new friend, Janet, greet me.

Janet is a wild and generous, friendly woman of about 55. She takes my luggage into her beaten up jeep and we head to the store for food and water for the week. After she and another woman, Carol, sit and talk about where we're from and what we're doing on the island, they drive me up a windy path to the house.

The Casita where I'm house -sitting is not visible at this point. We have to walk another 5 minutes down a narrow path of shrubs, weeds, fallen trees, stones, and dodge erosion where the rain water has washed away the mud. We finally arrive and the valley and ocean view is spectacular! I can see green hills stretch to the ocean, not a neighbor within ear shot; only about ten white homes sprinkled throughout the trees. But when I enter the house, it's a disaster. There are dead lizards, cockroaches and frogs in the dishes, the sink, on the floor and on shelves. About 200 bees are dead, waiting to be swept. They had built their hive in the corner of the living room and had to be exterminated. The hive and the honey comb and bees wax they left were long narrow strands of off-white and honey brown. Janet removes them for me, and we begin to sweep the house, and wiping down counter tops, exposing the quaint white and light green of the interior of the Casita. We open the wide doors leading to the outer deck to freshen the air, and little by little, it starts to feel like home.

After I unload my bags, I start wandering through the Casita, looking through boxes and organizing supplies. There are candles, batteries, lanterns, lights and tools, disinfectants, pots and pans and dishes. I go to use the toilet and realize not only is there no way to flush it, but there is no toilet tank. Knowing that no one in their right mind would walk down my trail to bring me a toilet tank, I come to the realization that I would be going to the bathroom outside every day for the next year. I need to charge my laptop so I decide to take a walk into town. Forty minutes later down a 95 degree paved road, I arrive at Black Beard Sports, a shop that sells camping , kayaking and snorkeling gear, but most importantly, has internet access and a fan for $5 per hour. This is a nice retreat for me, as I have no electricity.

I thought the loss of power every other day in Costa Rica was an inconvenience. I had a flushing toilet, electricity, internet and TV. I think living there was just a little "taste" of the types of weather and bugs I would see here.