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.