I love how modern transportation can speed you forward or backward through the seasons - perhaps this is the secret to controlling time. Immediately upon stepping out into the soft, Caribbean air, we realized that we’d packed the wrong clothes, not believing that it could possibly be so warm. We drove past the crashing surf of Ocean Park to our guest house, “Coqui del Mar,” named after the state animal, the tree frog, whose enchantingly gentle chirps we heard out the gloriously fully rolled down windows of our rental car. After recently having watched an episode of Andrew Zimmern’s “Bizarre Foods” set in Puerto Rico, we were curious to try the local staple, “mofongo,” mashed plantains mixed with crispy bits of fried pork served in a heaping scoop. While we found the sought-after mofongo, it turned out to be quite dry and was served with “chicharones,” essentially just fried chicken. Later, when I had the leftovers from this quite heavy meal, I discovered that it was much improved with a squeeze of fresh orange juice. But, it seemed to be customary to serve dishes with no sauces and certainly nothing fresh, much to our dismay. We bought the oranges at a local grocery store to compensate for this.
For breakfast the next morning, we tried the traditional “mallorca.” a swirl of doughy bread covered in powdered sugar. After ordering ours plain, we looked around and realized we should have taken a lesson from the locals and had it toasted with ham and cheese. We did, however, greatly enjoy the espresso con leche, which was strong and sweet and revved us p for our long drive to the El Yunque Rainforest. Puerto Rico is a funny place where you feel almost like you’re in the US - the highway signs are all shaped the same and there are loads of American fast food chains lining the roads (more Burger Kings per mile than I’ve ever seen, and also an odd assortment of chains that have largely gone out of business in the continental
US and seemed temporally out of place). But, everything is in Spanish. Spanish is just similar enough to Italian to get us into trouble but not similar enough to really be helpful, at least in speaking (understanding and reading, in particular, were actually easier for the similarities). We drove up into El Yunque through a viney, wet forest with wonderful chirping and tweeting sounds echoing through the trees, and had a fantastic meeting with the rangers, one of whom has a daughter who lives in Lincoln, Maine, of all places. They are very excited to have the Apogee students volunteer with them and were incredibly helpful in sketching out the details of a project for them. Eager t
o explore the rainforest, we headed off for a short hike to La Mina waterfall. Along the way, we saw delicately perched lizards, giant snails, and wild pink impatiens on the forest floor, before descending to the dramatic falls, the pool at the bottom of which was filled with gleeful swimmers. On the way out, we stopped at the visitor’s center, where we were surprised to find out that the park had been protected since the Spanish rule, for over 200 years, before becoming a national US park in the 1970s. It is now the only rainforest in the US National Park system.In great need of both lunch and our first swim, we stopped at Loquillo Beach.
Here, we had heard about the “chioscos,” a row of stalls on the beach which sell an array of local snack foods. We settled on one of the few open stands (as it was a Monday and most of them open only on the weekends) where I had a “bacalaito,” a fried salt cod fritter (though I struggled to find the fish among the batter), and Chad had a long, skinny taquito stuffed with shrimp. The highlight by far was the “coco frijo,” fresh, cold coconut, cut open right in front of us. 
We slurped it down, parched from the heat, and quickly ordered another. All told, we couldn’t complain – lunch was a mere $7 for the both of us, a welcome relief after last night’s dinner of overpriced fried chicken. And we were happy to have something fresh and local. We found out, to our surprise that coconuts were just about it. Not much is grown on the island so that 90% of the food consumed there is imported, which seems strange for a place where you would expect fruit to be dangling deliciously from every tree and for sale at every corner. And then . . . we submerged in the deliciously warm sea, gently easing into the water through a continuum of temperature that is rare and delicious in striking contrast to the frenetic, gutsy plunge into Maine’s waters, which are crisp even at their warmest point. The water was soft and salty, even a little cloudy in its viscous jade green color. We finally tore ourselves away from the beach in order to return to San Juan in time for a personal tour of the city by a friend of a friend, who we had fortunately been put in touch with before coming down. It’s amazing what a local can show you that make a place come alive and which you wouldn’t find on your own. We drove to a small stretch of beach called “Pinones” up the coast where palm-thatched beach shacks housed simple waterfront bars with small tables and stools set out under the shade of their porch where we sampled the cool, refreshing local beer, Medalles. Then, we took a drive through new San Juan into the fortressed city of Viejo San Juan, home of the oldest settlement in the US (founded by Juan Ponce de León in 1508, and now a UNESCO world heritage site), with its 
impressive 4-foot thick ramparts. After zipping along the cobble-stoned streets, which were fairly quiet as there were no cruise ships in town that night, our gracious tour guide asked us if we were in the mood for some good, simple Puerto Rican food. We certainly were, not having eaten much we’d enjoyed since our arrival. He took us to a place called “Bebo’s,” something akin to the “Denny’s” of Puerto Rico - a little short on atmosphere, but with a great array of local specialties. We started out with pig stomach soup (mondongo) which was actually very good, and brought back memories of eating pig stomach in Sardinia). Chad then had stewed goat, which was also delicious, and I took another stab at salt cod, this time sautéed, not fried, and served with scrambled egg and vegetables. It was delicious. Over dinner, we got the lowdown on the troubles within the island’s government and the high rate of poverty and unemployment, particularly since the economic collapse.The next day, Chad was off to Cabo Rojo, on the southwest coast, to meet with the staff at the
Wildlife Refuge there, in hopes of organizing another volunteer project. I stayed behind to catch up on some work done. Though I often gripe about the challenges and obligations of constant communication, this is one of the most magnificent benefits. My courtyard “office” was jus
t fine and my lunch break walk to the beach wasn’t bad either. I finished up in time for an afternoon walk, or trek, as it turned out, from Ocean Park to Old San Juan. I walked from the new part of the city, peppered with high rise hotels, Chinese restaurants, and convenience stores, along a stretch of beach where surfers rode on sunset-colored waves into the fortress of the old city. Guarding the entrance to the city’s harbor is the Fort San Felipe del Morro which, by the time I got there, was illuminated under a starry sky. Finally, I reached the Plaza Colon, where I slaked my parched throat with a local cane soda while I waited for Chad to join me for dinner at the Café Puerto Rico. It’s amazing how the slower pace of walking allows you to notice things that are otherwise a blur out a car window such as the on
e I looked out of last night on our tour. We’d finally hit our stride with food after the first few flops of meals – Chad had an eggplant relleno stuffed with chicken, and I had shrimp simmered in garlic sauce accompanied by plantain fries (not to be confused with the sweeter, crisper fried plantains), which made us appreciate fries made from potatoes. And, we sampled the local rum in a mojito and a spiced rum punch. Puerto Rico is one of the major rum producers in the world. In fact, much of the island was once covered in sugar cane plantations. Now, the major producer is the Bacardi Distillery, which you can take tours of right from the cruise ship terminal.The next morning, we headed to the town of Fajardo, on the east coast of the island, to head out for the island of Vieques, best known as a former bombing range for the US Navy. Since the Navy stopped their exercises there in 2003, most of the island has been designated as a nature
preserve and the Navy is slowly disarming the area for recreational use. But, currently much of it is off-limits. On the boat trip out to Vieques, we passed several grounded boats which looked like they’d been there for quite awhile and weren’t going anywhere soon. In fact, many things on the island were that way and reminded us of places in Mexico where there were an amazing number of unfinished buildings that now housed trees and lizards. On the water, we watched diving pelicans and brightly colored frigate birds - and even a sea turtle, which poked its head up alongside the ferry. We passed Culebra, which has the only Marine Protected Area in Puerto Rico – surprising for the extent of the coral reef and the tourism there. On the other side of the island, there are apparently several large experimental aquaculture pens, which I knew about from my nerdy ocean science geek research, but we didn’t see these on our trip.Upon arrival, we packed into a taxi from the town of Isabel II, where we landed, to Esperanza, on the opposite side of the island, accompanied by half a dozen other people in a stuffy van with no air conditioning. We drove past the Malecon, the beachside drag, up to the Alta Vista, a slightly shabby hotel run by one of the town’s many ex-pats. Once checked in there, we walked down to town for a quick sandwich at Bellybuttons café, decorated with innumerable pictures of the bellybuttons of previous clientele, before heading to Sun Bay for a swim, wanting to finally get in the Caribbean Sea (having been on the Atlantic side until now) and to check out a potential camping spot for Apogee. We returned for an afternoon meeting at the Historic Conservation Trust, where we hoped to arrange another volunteer project. The facility there is a magical place with a small museum and aquarium filled with myriad natural and cultural objects from the island. I could have stayed awhile looking at all the collections, but we wanted to get in an evening snorkel before it got dark. We swam out along the pier, getting a preview of the marvelous Caribbean creatures that lived there. Later, for dinner, we ventured down the road a ways to try to find the “Mexi-Rican” restaurant we’d heard about, but were soon in the pitch black with no likely candidate in sight, and decided instead to return to town to Duffy’s, just about the only game in town. Chad tried the conch chowder and an avocado salad, and I sampled crab cakes – both accompanied by more tropical punches (mine made from Passoa, a passion fruit liquor), and a lime, coconut drink for desert. While at the bar, we met Abe, the owner of one of the companies on the island who gave tours of the biolumiscent bay. He looked like a true pirate with a black beard, beady eyes, and a bandana tied around his hair. When we mentioned we were looking for a company to take a dozen students to the bay, he offered us a free tour the next night – another perk of scouting.
The next morning, we enjoyed breakfast on the roof of our hotel, looking out over the island, which had a decidedly more country feel than the mainland and seemed more authentically Caribbean. Eager to get into the water and to do some exploring, we rented a kayak, yet again using our scouting skills to garner a good rate for the day. We paddled out from the Malecon past what the locals called “the island,” edged with rugged cliffs which plunge down into the warm waters, to Mezza Luna Bay for some snorkeling and a picnic on the beach. Anticipating that the reef might be sorry shape, I was surprised to see such healthy corals, polyps waving in the water next to purple and yellow sea fans and vase sponges with a spectacular array of fish from tiny bright blue spotted fish to elegant yellow pipe fish hovering next to spiral Christmas tree worms. Spiny lobsters hid out under brain corals and glass shrimp took cover in soft, iridescent anemones, neighbored by giant, spiky black sea urchins. Over an hour later, finally made aware of the time by growing hunger, we headed in to the beach. The temperature was heavenly. We stopped two more times to snorkel on the way back, passing by another turtle periscoping its neck above the surface, which was scattered by silvery jumping fish, and herons flying overhead.
Many hours later, we returned to the Alta Vista for cocktails on the roof deck at sunset- rum and Coke we’d bought from the local store and key limes I’d sneakily ac
quired from a tree in one of the yards along the road. Then, we were off for our tour of Bio Bay. The beginning of the tour was literally a little rough, bumping down a rugged road in the dark in the back of a truck we weren’t sure was ever going to arrive to pick us up in the first place. But, once out there, it was one of the coolest sights we’ve ever seen. I had seen bioluminescence before – in Maine and even in Australia, but this was a different deal. The bay here has one of the highest concentrations of the dinoflagellates in the world. These are the tiny plankton that flash their lights when disturbed. The bay here is exceptionally salty and is surrounded by a barrier of mangroves, which provide nutrients for the plankton and make the water rich and silty. We paddled out into the center of the bay and then hopped out of our boats for a snorkel. It was like swimming through a star tunnel – like you were Superman flying through space, sparkles streaming along your body as you slowly swam through the water. Quick repeated movements created cloudy blue flashes of light. We had mixed feelings about being able to so intimately experience this, as we were one of close to a hundred swimmers in the bay that night alone. At the end of the day, we calculated we’d been under the water for over four hours and paddled at least as many – the mark of a good day. For this reason, we have few pictures from Vieques.On our last day in Puerto Rico, we woke up early to get in one more snorkel around the pier, this time in daylight. There were dozens of silver needle fish shining in the mo
rning sun and arrays of jacks mixed with tiny colorful fish hanging out in the trash reefs underneath the pier. Once back on the mainland, we heard about a giant oil tank fire just outside of San Juan and immediately saw this along our drive. It was quite dramatic, the black plume rising above the city. Then, after an impressive line-up of a taxi, a boat, a car, a plane and a bus, we arrived back in New Castle just after midnight, limp from a long day of travel. Just to properly welcome us back from the tropics, the weather gods sent along a fall thunderstorm. Though it was chilly, the rain slicked the newly-turned leaves and blackened the tree trunks, making the colors brightly shine against the gray sky.Several weeks later now, the fall season is beginning to give way to more wintry weather, with most of the leaves having dropped (many into our yard, much to the pain of Chad’s now-aching limbs) and the potted impatiens on our deck, cousins of the wild variety that grow on the rainforest floor in El Yunque, are now but shriveled stalks. While we had a very successful scouting trip and are hoping to fill Apogee’s first Caribbean service trip this coming summer, there just might be a need to nail down critical details come February, when we’re buried in snow up here.
