From 1941 to 2003, the US Navy used it for target practice. I
remember walking into work in 2003 and seeing Panama and others who had spent
years fighting the bombs dance in a circle celebrating the end assault on the
little island just off the Puerto Rico mainland.
Today the bombs are a memory, leaving shells and undeveloped
land behind. This tiny island is not
just a space surrounded by Caribbean and the Atlantic, just East of Cuba, Haiti
and the Dominican Republic. It is a place in between ideas and worlds. Sitting North of Valenzuela and Southeast of
Florida, today it thankfully feels like a part of modern world, though for ages
it was a first stop.
After a week sitting in your lush hills, it is worth saying
thank you for all you are and all you shared.
Thank you for your banana flowers, mangrove and mango trees,
lush and lyrical out of time, or a line from a Gabriel Garcia Marquez novel.
Thank you for the 375 year old Celba Tree born well before
Jefferson or the US still overlooking the Atlantic and the Mosquito Pier where kids
found star fish.
Thank you for the Gringo Beach where horses roam, families
revel and we found green, brown, white and blue sea glass.
Thank you for the Green Beach where we snorkeled and played
in the rocks overlooking the boats and the palm trees.
Thank you for the windy roads with potholes and wild horses wandering, roaming free, friends with space to revel in their own self determination, unlike the US plains where such activity is considered a nuisance and horses are seen as a problem to be taken care of.
Thank you for the windy roads with potholes and wild horses wandering, roaming free, friends with space to revel in their own self determination, unlike the US plains where such activity is considered a nuisance and horses are seen as a problem to be taken care of.
Thank you for the old dogs who wander, making friends in the
streets and the years. One particular friend
used to sit and smile meandering to and from like he owned the place, ambling
up to us like a king from another age.
Thank you for the old church with lush trees, overlooking
the ocean, with horses rushing up and down in between the trees and pasture.
Thank you for your beaches, Playa Caracus (Red), Pata Prieta
(Secret), and Playa Plata (Orchid Beach), some of the most blue tiel, warm and
lovely spaces I have ever dipped my toes.
Thank you for the lobsters we steamed and the grouper we
cooked wrapped in a banana leaves.
Thank you for the Paella and stories in Esperanza, the beans
and rice where we jumped off the pier with the families hanging out.
Thank you for the salty, international Mar Azu, a watering hole
facing the water along the ferry in Isabel II.
There we drank El Presidente, ate fish fries, looked out at the sea,
talked, and reveled in being alive.
Thank you for La Finka el Caribe, where we swam in the pool,
BBQ’d, read books, watched movies, ate pancakes, napped, fought flies, slept
with salamanders, learned chess, and lazed in our hammocks looking down at the
hills, at the island.
Thank you for the wildlife refuge, the windy roads lined
with the lushest trees and vines hanging in the distance with an occasional
mongoose running to and from.
Thank you for your waters
where my family and I reveled, Caroline and I looked out and swam, Dodi and I snorkeled
and surfed, and Scarlett and I played imaginary games. I was Rick Van Winkell floating from Puerto Vallarta
to Vieques, lost at sea for 28 years only to find my daughter on the beach and regain memory as we
reveled in the father daughter reunion, imaginary captain and first captain sailing
across the pool from Florida to Vieques.
“I see your soul,” Scarlett
explained as we swam, a little fantasy, but in play there is a degree of
experimentation with reality, with who we are, or might be.
Thank you for your skies where I sat thinking about my life
and my story, remembering Bob and Panama my other friends who used to come
here.
No teaching or activism or bike rides, just a place to
imagine as a humming bird floats outside my window, while their friends chirp in
the distance.
Today, we sailed back to the big island, where we explored
old San Juan, drank sangria, ate paella, and played chess, looking down the
streets at the lonely vines handing meandering through the curvilinear
distances once again.
When we arrived in Puerto Rico, we saw an iguana in the
airport. Tomorrow, we’re headed back
there. Perhaps we’ll see the same
iguana.
Sand, surf, island mixed drinks and awesome laid back vibe. Come remain at the Lazy Hostel and benefit as much as possible from your trek to Vieques Puerto Rico. Here are possibilities for the shoreline, shoreline bum, spending plan, inn, lethargic jacks, surf and vieques.
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