What a great year! Worthy of being in VH1’s “Best Year Ever” episode. I got promoted at work, bathed in 9 different beaches, become closer with my family, closer with friends, and received the gift of creating life: my little lady, Seanna Sofia.
She’s so beautiful. So adorable. So gentle. Tender and sweet. Just like the flesh that made her and carried her in her womb. I love how she smiles in her sleep, how she opens her mouth wide and closes her eyes when she yawns, how she makes sounds like a kitten when she cries — But I’m getting ahead of myself.
So let me start with the first day, January 1, 2009. Man, what a party! What a crazy youth-spirited reckless night! What loss of control, what disregard for the norm of society. It was fun. To be careless one last time. To sing along songs, out loud; to dance like a high schooler, raising a glass of champagne to love and life, and bring in the new year one last time without second thoughts, toasting along friends and my beloved Monica. Aniceto and Jose, Primo Productions, you are to blame for such madness. And that was it. No more partying like a rockstar. We felt that it was not for us anymore.
As far as getting the new year started, Bianca, Monica and I went snowboarding and man it was about 75% torture and 25% fun. We ended up on the ground so many times that I felt I had bursted an instestine. We hit the ground so hard so many times that even though we had gotten the “All Day” pass until 10PM, by 5PM we couldn’t get up anymore. When we fell, it took us a good 5 minutes of just laying there, motionless, groaning, gathering strength to get back up. The problem was that when we went, even though it was cold, it wasn’t snowing. Instead of snow, there was ice on the slopes. It was basically trying to snowboard on frozen concrete. Looking back, I don’t think it was the determination to master the bunny slope that kept us there, it was plain masochism. This was just plain painful. I wish we could have made it to the regular “grown up” slope though, but we’ll shamefully admit that the Bunny Slope punished us so bad we got scared. After we left, Bianca looked like she had gotten in bar brawl, Monica looked like she had married a wifebeater, and I, well, I still looked good.
In February, we visited our good friends Yazmine and JP in Puerto Rico. We really enjoyed our stay with them and got to visit different parts of the island. I had many times seen the sun at sunset, but never actually sat down to contemplate it and enjoy it. When we visited Dorado, we did exactly that. And it was beautiful. It was an orange reddish circle with a soothing glow, slowly being swallowed by the dark sea and the endless dance of the waves. I wrote about this beautiful experience here. We also got to visit hidden coastlines and experience Puerto Rico underwater; we went Scuba diving in La Parguera, a diving spot where you can supposedly spot whale sharks during their migration. Unfortunately, we were a day late. The guides said they had seen a 40 foot whale shark the day before. What a disappointment Puerto Rico was a lot of fun and its waters hold a special place in our heart since that’s where Seanna’s nickname “Sirena” came from. I was going to write about our scuba diving experience but didn’t get to it because Monica surprised me with the news that she was with child. I won’t be able to finish the second half of our Puerto Rico experience, but below are some videos and pictures we took of our dive trip. Although it was nice and full of corals, we were disappointed that there were very little fish. Weird.
Video of Scuba diving. From getting into the water, diving to bottom, seeing the “wall of corals”, to getting back on boat:
For Valentine’s Day weekend, we went to the enchanted island once again. We had previously visited back in 2005 when Monica and I had just started going out. We now returned as a married couple. On our first trip we visited Old San Juan, El Yunque and the beautiful island of Culebra where we did some serious snorkeling. This time, we went to visit our good friends Yazmine and JP (Juan Pablo) and visit the west side of the island. We were very happy to see them both again. We hadn’t seen them since our wedding, 7 months back. Yazmine and I have been friends for many years and when she moved back we promised her that we would go visit her. It took a few years, but we finally made it and we were very excited! When we arrived, the first thing we did was to go see her at her workplace after JP picked up us from the airport. We wanted to know about everything that went on when she audition for American Idol and made it to Hollywood. After a brief catching up, we went to get some typical Puerto Rican food, Chuleta Can-Can (Fried Pork Chop) but I was disappointed I didn’t see Arroz con Gandules, a typical Puerto Rican cuisine, on the menu. The pork chop was a vicious meal, I was stuffed to the core. So after this serious meal, we went to the Yaz-JP Hotel and met the rest of the family, their four dogs. When Yazmine got home from work she got ready for us to go to Old San Juan and have dinner. This is when I realized that while JP has been in PR for years, I, a native of Nicaragua, living in the US, had to introduce him to one of PR’s best liquors: Passoa! Passoa is a passion fruit drink that is very tropical and an exotic taste. Women love it because it doesn’t really taste like alcohol, men love it because women get drunk without knowing and then get wild. So after a drink, we went to DragonFly a chic restaurant to get some sushi. After dinner we returned home and passed out.
JP Yaz and Alex
The next day we woke up early and made the hour trip to Crash Boat beach. We drove out early in morning, about 7 or so, to Crash Boat, a beach west of San Juan. First we searched for a bakery to eat some good typical Puerto Rican breakfast but we couldn’t find any. We drove on the expressway but got back on the local roads because Monica wanted to pass out from hunger, but nothing. After an hour, we decided to stop by a McDonalds and get some boring American breakfast platter. There we asked for directions to get to Crash Boat. It turns out that giving directions in Puerto Rico is just like they give directions in my native Nicaragua. No one knows the actual road names, instead the use landmarks and estimates of distance to make a turn. For example, the lady at the McDonald’s gave us the following directions: “You go the right at the corner, then you’re going to go for another 40 minutes and pass three McDonalds and then make a right, then you’ll go to a church and make a left, then when you see a big tree, you take the next left.” I am not exaggerating. When I asked what the name of the roads are, they didn’t know. When I used my iPhone and named the roads (302, 28, etc), they didn’t know even though it was the road in front of them. But, the directions worked.
We made it to the vicinity but got lost after the third Mickey Ds. So, I asked for directions yet again, but to my luck, the guy I asked was a mute. He was mumbling something but we didn’t understand. We felt bad for him because he was trying help, but we had to ask someone else right next to him. And what do you know, he gave us the following directions: “Make a U, go to the church, make a right, continue until you pass a big white house, make a left and continue until you see a small blue sign.” Perfect directions.
As soon as we go there, we parked and ordered some Pinchos from some street vendors. Here you could order pork, beef or chicken on a stick, lathered with BBQ, and topped with a Tostone with garlic. Yummy and cheap! I had been to Crash Boat back in 2003 with my boys (Pato, Bori, Daniel and some Chinese guy) and it was a great time. The beach back then was full of life, it had a diverse group of people, locals, tourists, couples, singles, etc. This time however, it was one HUGE sausage fest. It was like College Spring Break without the chicks. Ok, it had some chicks, but they were jailbait. Not that I was looking for chicks, but I couldn’t help but notice how there were 30 guys to every girl. And there were all young. I guess it must have been either High School skip day or some freshmen college hang out day.
Anyways, I decided to go and do some snorkeling. There was absolutely nothing but white sand. There was an occasional unremarkable fish that followed me around, but that was about it. I ran into some scuba divers that must have been some real amateurs because they were occupying themselves with some small fishes. I guess they were learning. The diving at Crash Boat is just terrible, anyone who thinks it’s great has obviously not fully experience anything other than snorkeling. After about 15 minutes, once I made it to the pier, I made my way back. My uneventful snorkeling was disrupted when two guys jumped from the pier into the water and then started making out next to me. Yeah, awkward. After I made it back to land, we took some pictures but had to move to a more obscure location because the guys were just foaming at the mouth and the young chicks were hating on the hot woman with the hot bikini. Below are some pictures:
Today we left paradise. But I shall not write of the boring plane ride, or how I dreaded going back to “Reality.” No. Instead I shall write of Paradise one last time… And it is with an indistinct sadness or nostalgia, but more appreciation that I say “Farewell, my homeland.” Goodbye my paradise. Of you, we take a piece with us. A piece of your romance inspiring sunsets, of your furious rain storms, of the deep thunder that shook our lovers’ hut when your heavens spoke. Thanks for the memories. I leave you now, with a heart as heavy as your sudden sea winds. On your soft carpet made of wild green moss we ran like children, laughing, chasing each other, hiding behind the palm trees that stood like sleeping towers. Hand in hand, she and I walked your white sands, losing our bare feet in the foam of your endless waves. How can we forget? How can we not remember the straw hut where we, man and woman, laid entwined like roots, linking our bodies and souls.
Thanks for the memories, oh Little Corn Island. May your people prosper. May your sands, your bodies of translucent water, your delicate huts keep the hearts of lovers aflame and the Marriott at bay. May your beauty remain a secret, like the hidden caverns of your seas, and only found by those seeking the honey of your moon… and may you still remain a virgin paradise…
And so I close this chapter of this small island, whose moon nourished us with honey and the type of feverish love newlyweds endure. I leave with this poem written by the poets of poets, Pablo Neruda (English translation at bottom):
La noche en la isla
Toda la noche he dormido contigo
junto al mar, en la isla.
Salvaje y dulce eras entre el placer y el sueño,
entre el fuego y el agua.
Tal vez muy tarde
nuestros sueños se unieron
en lo alto o en el fondo,
arriba como ramas que un mismo viento mueve,
abajo como rojas raíces que se tocan.
Tal vez tu sueño
se separó del mío
y por el mar oscuro
me buscaba
como antes
cuando aún no existías,
cuando sin divisarte
navegué por tu lado,
y tus ojos buscaban
lo que ahora
pan, vino, amor y cólera
te doy a manos llenas
porque tú eres la copa
que esperaba los dones de mi vida.
He dormido contigo
toda la noche mientras
la oscura tierra gira
con vivos y con muertos,
y al despertar de pronto
en medio de la sombra
mi brazo rodeaba tu cintura.
Ni la noche, ni el sueño
pudieron separarnos.
He dormido contigo
y al despertar tu boca
salida de tu sueño
me dio el sabor de tierra,
de agua marina, de algas,
del fondo de tu vida,
y recibí tu beso
mojado por la aurora
como si me llegara
del mar que nos rodea.
The Night on the Island
All night I have slept with you
next to the sea, on the island.
Wild and sweet you were between pleasure and sleep,
between fire and water.
Perhaps very late
our dreams joined
at the top or at the bottom,
Up above like branches moved by a common wind,
down below like red roots that touch.
Perhaps your dream
drifted from mine
and through the dark sea
was seeking me
as before,
when you did not yet exist,
when without sighting you
I sailed by your side,
and your eyes sought
what now-
bread, wine, love, and anger-
I heap upon you
because you are the cup
that was waiting for the gifts of my life.
I have slept with you
all night long while
the dark earth spins
with the living and the dead,
and on waking suddenly
in the midst of the shadow
my arm encircled your waist.
Neither night nor sleep
could separate us.
I have slept with you
and on waking, your mouth,
come from your dream,
gave me the taste of earth,
of sea water, of seaweed,
of the depths of your life,
and I received your kiss
moistened by the dawn
as if it came to me
from the sea that surrounds us.
Today was our final day in Little Corn, Paradise. We woke up exhausted, feeling a bit sick and with a thick humid air from all the wet clothes, that made me feel claustrophobic. I looked outside our very tiny window and it was raining. It was the kind of slow, cold rain that silenced the birds and would have been perfect for a lazy Sunday afternoon somewhere in the US; but not today, not for our last morning in paradise. I had read previously on the internet that when it rains, the Pangas (the little boats) that carry us over to Big Corn don’t operate. This is a lie. From what I heard from the locals, there has to be a Hurricane in order for them to not operate. We hurried to get ready and ran to the Panga that was already boarding. And just like that, we left Paradise. In reality, we were sad to leave, but ready. The trips across the jungle and the diving really took a toll on us, physically. We were tired and burnt out.
Here’s a brief recap of our experience in Paradise, by the numbers:
• 7: trips taken across the mosquito battlefields of the jungle
• 4: times getting lost(always on the way back to Derek’s Place)
• 5: total hours lost.
• 2: Impromptu sunset walks along the beach (While lost)
• 9: Combined dives we took.
• 7: Sharks seen
• 407: minutes total time underwater (combined)
• 1: (and first) underwater fight with the wife
• 1: very unsuccessful “fishing expedition from hell” where I almost threw up my entire stomach
• 8”: size of biggest fish caught during above mentioned failed expedition
• 3: Beaches visited
• 1/2: Population of Island that has Downs as last name.
• 0 Regrets!
When we got to Big Corn Island, we took a taxi directly to Casa Canada. There we were greeted by Don once again. We took a room and man, it was sooooo nice! It looked even nicer since we were used to our humble love shack made of straw and wood. We were back to civilization! Satellite TV! A refrigerator! King sized bed! A/C!!! Woohoo! And even some leather couches! The first thing we did was take a HOT shower and then pass out like we hadn’t slept in days. If little corn had these types of accommodations, it would be perfect; but then again, it wouldn’t feel like that raw, virgin island that it is. Casa Canada is possibly the best place to stay at in Big Corn Island. It has plenty of beautiful details that make it a pleasant stay. It’s very clean and very well kept.
One of the many little statues that adorned Casa Canada
After another black starless night of running to the throne (read previous post), this time under tempered winds and thick drops of rain, we woke up late. We were supposed to be at Dolphin’s Dive Shop at 830 for the first dive. The sun and the chickens were already out, Derek’s two kids were playing and somewhere nearby someone was chopping coconuts with a machete. The waves were breaking and the ocean was breathing a mellow breeze. Ahhh, the soundtrack of paradise made you feel lazy and getting out of bed became tough. I was feeling much better. It was 815 in the morning and we weren’t going to make it to the dive shop on time; crossing that jungle was going to take at least a half hour, walking at regular speed but I was in no shape to walk at regular speed. Since we knew we were not going to make it to the first dive trip, we sat down and ate toast, pineapples, passion fruit juice and scrambled eggs. After hanging out and making small talk with Derek and Anna, we got ready to our trek across the jungle. We applied bug repellent lotion like it was moisturizing or sun tan lotion because we didn’t want to be shredded to pieces again.
We started on the trail yet again, and yet again we walked by the shacks and saw kids working the land. The poverty of the island took from this paradise that feeling that life is easy going here. It set in the harsh realities of the indigenous of the land, those that have inherited a paradise for tourists, those with the dollar, the euro, but not for their own children. They live in rusty tin shacks that are the size of two cubicles put together. Others live in rotten-wood homes. Most of the local, however, live in decent and very modest homes. I still cannot understand why there are more foreign business owners than native born. It’s as if the natives are being robbed out of their own land. Acre by acre, the land and businesses are going to more and more blue-eyed blondes paying 30 silver dollars at a time. But that’s capitalism and it’s fine, I just wish that I had seen more local business owners.
Anyways, when we reached the dive shop, the first divers had just returned from the first trip. “We saw dolphins!” they exclaimed. Ouch! The heartache! “They were playing, coming back and forth, about 10 feet from us!” they said in jubilance. They kept on talking about how fantastic it was and with each sentence, with each laughter, they were adding weight to my already sinking optimism that I would have the same chance. I knew that we weren’t going to go diving at the same spot. Talk about disappointment. Talk about regret! “I shouldn’t have eaten that fruit,” is all I kept thinking.
We got suited and climbed the boat. The bumping of the sea was making sick again. This was going to be our first dive in the open ocean so we were filled with excitement and anticipation. When we got to our destination spot, we sat on the edge of the boat and leaped backwards. And there, we went under listening to the Darth Vader breathing, wide eyed, watching hands signals and looking out for whatever may be lurking, camouflaged in the sand. The dive master that certified us always told us to be careful when going to the bottom of the sea, as there are creatures that use sand for cover, so stepping in the sand could be dangerous. Sure enough, as soon as we got to the bottom, some 35 feet below, the dive master was giving us the hand signal to watch out below, as there was a sting ray hidden in the sand. All you could see were two eyes and a menacing barb. Monica was paranoid of getting too close because she remembered Steve Irwin, the crocodile hunter who got killed when a stingray’s barb pierced his heart.
As soon as we dropped in the water, we were about to step on this stingray.
I got very close to this stingray and then reality shivered down my spine as I realize that this animal could kill me. We established buoyancy at another spot in the sand once we made sure there was no other danger of getting killed. Well, let me rephrase that, I established buoyancy. Monica, well, let’s just say that Michael, the dive master who certified us, wouldn’t have been proud. Actually, he would have cringe at how Monica was all over the place. She was floating up and down, swimming like a mermaid in distress, swinging her arms like a drowning man. I don’t know what happened, but there was no grace in her diving abilities. She was like an octopus fleeing from a vicious prey. Most of the time she was doing the “Running man” underwater rather than swimming horizontally.
One of the few moments when Monica was diving as she should, horizontally.
About five minutes into the dive, the dive master took us into a coral reef that was populated with an assortment of fish. And then I saw a shark. Then another. The dive master pointed it out to us and it swam by us and away from us. I scrambled for my camera, but couldn’t get it to work properly so I was only able to take the picture below. I tried to follow it, but it was too fast.
Our first Shark sighting. It swam away from us quickly.
Puerto Rico was a lot of fun and its waters hold a special place in our heart since that’s where Seanna’s nickname “Sirena” came from. I was going to write about our scuba diving experience but didn’t get to it because Monica surprised me with the news that she was with child. I won’t be able to finish the second half of our Puerto Rico experience, but below are some videos and pictures we took of our dive trip. Although it was nice and full of corals, we were disappointed that there were very little fish. Weird.
