Jungle

If I ever run away to Puerto Rico, this is where you should try looking for me first: the central highlands, somewhere in the vicinity of the still-very-traditional town of Jayuya. I don't have a picture of the pot-bellied guy sitting in a plastic chair at the roadside in the middle of nowhere who held up a single head of lettuce in a plastic bag and yelled (with a wide grin), "Lechuga!!!" in hopes of making a sale. Nor do I have a picture of the rural highway intersection where one had to swerve to avoid the coconut stand in the middle of the road(s) and then swerve in the other direction to avoid the horse tied to a tree along the edge of the highway. Or of the way the power lines that follow the roadways catch all of the falling leaves, branches, and stray bamboo that would otherwise have fallen across the road, creating a magical tunnel of vegetation (and high potential for power outage/disaster) over the winding road in so many places.

But I do have these pictures of steep mountains of jungle (not totally unlike the pictures I'd have taken of Rwanda if I'd had a camera in Rwanda), the view from the top of the highest peak on the island (Cerra de Punto), lake valleys, and the idyllic guesthouse/retreat that served as accommodations for the last night in Puerto Rico. Sigh. What a trip. Who knew?

SW PR

Past two days spent in southwest Puerto Rico; the quirky, Peace Corps feeling has passed, though this part of the south still feels totally different from the more touristy, developed north. Blissful days of hiking in the dry forest nature reserve at Guánica, visiting postcard-perfect beaches (Playa Ballena, near Guánica; and Playa Santa, in Cabo Rojo) that are perfectly public but so off the beaten path that they felt private and secluded, exploring lazy seaside towns (three cheers for Boquerón, where even the overwhelming obsession with beer banners is charming), and in general just feeling like the lucky person I am. (Not quite lucky enough to swim with manatees, which is supposedly not outside the realm of possibility in these parts, but nonetheless....)

I Saw the Sign

Spent the day in southeast Puerto Rico, and I'm not sure what it was, but I felt strongly all day like I was back in Peace Corps, or in a place that is like somewhere there would be Peace Corps. I'm not sure what I mean by that or what exactly gave that repeated, distinct impression. All I can give you is this collection of fragments. First: signage. This was on the door of of a bathroom at a nature reserve:

Then, on the trail in the reserve:

Wait, what does that *completely submerged in water and pointing to an open bay* sign say? Let's look a little closer:

I definitely would not have identified that as the walking trail without that sign.

So, there was that sort of thing. But it was million other things, too. Buildings made entirely of painted concrete. Getting lost trying to find a nature reserve (Bahía de Jobos) that the guidebook laments is the least visited in the country (perhaps because no one can find it?). A pack of stray dogs napping in the middle of the road. Stopping at a gas station five miles away to ask for directions to the reserve, which involves a great deal of miming and my HORRIBLE Spanish until an English-speaker steps up. That English speaker saying he lives right near the reserve and no problem, just follow his car and he'll show you where it is. Having him lead you to the EXACT, unmarked parking lot and painted concrete building where you turned around so as not to have to run over the dogs sleeping in the road earlier. Hikes on trails that, if they don't disappear into water, wander aimlessly into impenetrable patches of trees or dilapidated old sugar mills that have nothing more than a listless yellow rope lying on the ground to suggest: "Maybe, probably you shouldn't go in here, if you feel like it, because the whole building could collapse in on itself at any second, possibly." A small horse tied to a tree near one of the buildings, even though there is no one, absolutely no one around. More dogs, following you everywhere you go on the hiking trail. Large iguanas scuttling into the tall grasses as you approach. Papaya farms. Roads lined with sky-high coconut palms. Slamming on the brakes for iguanas in the road. Lots of iguana roadkill (some people don't bother to slam on the brakes). An oddly upscale, tidy, calm, relaxing tourist spot (in this case, thermal baths near Coamo) in what feels like the middle of nowhere, tucked into a beautiful landscape. Moments of surprising beauty scattered among the weirdness and dust and heat. A type of day that is strangely lovable.

El Yunque

Magical, magical day spent in El Yunque rainforest. Is it too nerdy to say that I think rainforests are my favorite ecosystem? Too bad, I just said it. Saw some of the largest bamboo stands I've ever seen. Hiked to Mina Falls and got just warm enough along the way to venture into one of the cold pools tucked into the rocks cascading down into its valley. Then hiked to the top of El Yunque peak, the highest point in the park. This was particularly great because (1) it was still less than 4,000 feet at its peak, teaching me that it is actually fun and not that strenuous to climb mountains when you're at an altitude at which you can do simple things like breathing as you go, and (2) it was a clear, clear day, allowing us to see our entire vacation from the top: downtown San Juan, Culebra island, Las Cazebas de San Juan...Wow.

Things not pictured, etc.

Back on the main island of Puerto Rico, but one thing hasn't changed: A good deal of what's been most interesting and beautiful about this trip so far are things that I don't have the photographic skills or equipment to show you: the amazing coral and sting-ray seen snorkeling of Melones Beach, swimming with sea turtles at Tamarindo Beach...and now add to that last night's kayaking trip to the bioluminescent Laguna Grande, in the far northeast of the island, near Fajardo. I tend to be a little stingy with the organized (read: expensive) activities while traveling, but this one was totally worth it. After dark, we made the eerie trip, paddling pretty much blind through a narrow channel hemmed in entirely with mangrove trees. I was so focused on not getting stuck in the trees or crashing into the other kayaks that I didn't even notice that the water had started glowing wherever my paddle touched it until it was pointed out to me. Once the channel opened up to the lagoon itself, I wasn't sure where to place my attention: on the bioluminescence of the water, the vastness of the sky and stars above, or the sheer joy of paddling around an enormous, nearly deserted (except) for us lagoon in the dark. It was that kind of quiet that you can only get in nature, where once you get used to not hearing the sounds of other people, you realize it's not really quiet at all.

Today, back to Reserva Natural de Las Cabezas de San Juan (try saying that ten times fast; it's the reserve of which Laguna Grande is a part) for a day tour. That I could take pictures of.

This black mangrove tree is one of three mangrove species in the mangrove marsh around the bioluminescent bay. Mangrove trees can tolerate really high saline content in their water, coping by expelling the salt through their leaves. You can actually touch a leaf and lick your finger and taste the salt.

Lots of spiders in the marsh.

And, of course, since this is Puerto Rico, beach.

Since it's a reserve and people aren't allowed to take anything found there, there was actually a lot of coral deposited on the beach of the type that we saw in Culebra. So now I can show you what we saw snorkeling, kind of:

The tour ended at this original lighthouse from the late 1800s, announcing the island of Puerto Rico to west-bound Caribbean travelers:

Also, lots of iguanas to see here.

The view from the lighthouse was pretty amazing. The day was so clear that looking east, we could see not only Vieques and Culebra Islands, but we could also see St. Thomas and another island even further away. This next photo is looking south; that's Laguna Grande in the foreground, an ocean bay just behind that, and along the skyline, the peaks of El Yunque Rainforest (tomorrow's daytrip destination!).

To top off the day, a to-die for meal of mofongo, fried plantains, and rice & beans. Yummo.

Culebra

A sweet old couple gave us a ride away from a gorgeous beach in an antique, white, open-sided car (of sorts) and asked that in return for the favor, we not tell anyone who doesn't already know about the existence of the magical little island-off-an-island that we were on...but here's me violating their request by reporting on 48 hours on Culebra. A little 10-seater plane took us away from big-city San Juan (with amazing views, I might add)...

...about a half-hour east to the small island of Culebra, with it's tiny main town of Dewey.

Pretty much the main attraction there was beach, sun, and more beach and more sun, with lots of walking in between. The island's Playa Flamenco regularly makes it on the list of Best Beaches in the World, and I'd have to agree. (The graffiti'd tank is a relic of the island's history as an artillery testing zone, and is strangely beloved by locals and visitors as a thing of character now.)

And how amazing is it to have one of the best beaches in the world pretty much to yourself? (Or maybe that's part of the reason WHY it's considered one of the best....)

The other highlights of the island, I can't put into pictures b/c I don't have an underwater camera. But we also did amazing snorkeling at Melones Beach (the colors were AMAZING, the reef was right there, and we saw an enormous sting-ray) and Tamarindo Beach, where we snorkeled among sea turtles.

What a beautiful, relaxing, idyllic spot.
But you didn't hear it from me.