I could spend hours looking through photos in antique shops, especially near old military bases. Sailors take great candids.
Some of my favorite photos are the ones we’d just delete without thinking from our digital cameras.
This photo says Galveston, Texas on the back. Is your grandfather in here somewhere?
First, the crucial beverage differences:
On the whole, pre-packaged beverage servings are much smaller — serving-size cans of juice are only about 4 oz. The photo above is of big juice cans. I love that label design.
Related: you can get tiny Coronas called “Coronitas.” They are adorable.
Stores sell milk in juice box packaging. Which wouldn’t be that unusual I guess, but they’re everywhere.
A “fruit punch” is likely to be made up of actual tropical juices, even if you buy it in a can. This makes rum punch dangerously easy to mix, even if you have no business mixing yet another rum punch, Maggie.
Melissa orders a beer. The waitress just pops the top of the can and sets it down in front of her. I’m amazed by this. I’ve been living in a big city too long.
That burrito? It’s full of hummus. Melissa ordered it knowingly, despite vigorous head shaking on my part.
Cars drive by open-air restaurants blaring advertising out of speakers on top.
Our airplane ticket for the ride back to Old San Juan was handwritten.
There are iguanas crawling through the grass on the side of the road.
I took this photo from the car. Wild horses are everywhere in Vieques, often standing in the road.
Little lizards are everywhere too. Like on the wall behind my pillow. Where I sleep at night.
People grow cacti in long rows to use as fences for small livestock.
Had I not made a When Harry Met Sally point of it, my nachos would have come with corn on them.
The pool at our hotel wasn’t chlorinated, so swimming was like taking a bath.
Bats swooped over the pool at night to eat insects off the surface. This made Melissa nervous at first, but I assured her that they could see us, and wouldn’t come near us. On our last night we lingered too long in the pool, and the bats got frustrated. So one dive-bombed my face. It came inches from my mouth, and I could hear the leathery wing flaps, and feel the leathery wing air.
*Intel is giving me more to write about by sponsoring my Mighty Life List over the next few months. They paid for my trip to Puerto Rico, so they’re indirectly responsible for any bat flashbacks I may have for the next several months.
So as not to be sleazy, this is the part where I remind you that Intel paid for my trip. They’re sponsoring my Mighty Life List over the next few months. So this post is technically part of a very smart marketing campaign. Shield your eyes!
We hop into a pickup bed filled with sandy, damp life jackets, and they bump against our shins on the dirt road to the beach.
Melissa and I are headed to Mosquito Bay in Vieques, one of most dense bioluminescent bays in the world. It’s teeming with microscopic organisms that light up when they’re disturbed. There are only eleven “biobays” in the world, nine of which are in Puerto Rico.
Ricky, one of the guides, is riding in back with us. He says his job never gets old.
He tells us about raindrops that seem to spark as they hit the water, how schools of fish leave light streams in their wake. I imagine a giant, glowing shark silhouette swimming toward our tiny kayak. Hmm.
We arrive at the beach, and don our gritty life jackets.
The air is suddenly spiky. “What is that?” I ask Melissa. She points to a tiny grain of sand on my forearm. It bites me. We’re covered in vicious, biting mites. Does the guide have any insect repllant? He does, but we can’t use it if we want to swim, it kills the plankton. Baby oil is fine though, and it works great! Does he have any of that? No.
We wade into the water to escape while our guides ready the kayaks.
I’ve adventurously stuffed all my camera equipment into plastic trash bags inside my backpack. Climbing into the open-top kayak, I decide not to think about what might happen if we tip over, because we aren’t going to tip over. Right, Melissa? Melissa, has never been in a kayak before, but we’ll be fine. I’m certain we’ll be fine. Right, Melissa? Melissa avoids eye contact.
We paddle out to the bay and tie the kayaks together to wait for nightfall. Our guide tells us about the dinoflagellates we’ve come to see, single-cell organisms that have the ability to photosynthesize. They’re technically neither plant nor animal. Cool.
I ask the guide if he’ll take our photos when we get in the water, maybe a little video. He warns me that it’s nearly impossible to capture the glow on film. Now he tells me.
We climb out of the boat, and gradually a soft glow gathers around our limbs as we tread water. A few moments later there are sparks and glowing bubbles flying from our fingertips. It looks exactly as you’d imagine pixie dust would look if you were to encounter Tinkerbell in the wild. “I can fly!” I say. I can’t stop laughing. Melissa sweeps her arms through the water and whispers, “I’m a priiiiincess!” We make light saber sounds, hum dramatic overtures as we conduct under water. I lift my hands above the surface, and loose-diamonds tumble down my arms.
As it turns out, our guide was right about the photos. I lightened one so you could get an idea of what the glow looks like. I’m going to blow this up to wall-mural size and hang it above my bed:
I want so much to show you what it was like, but you have to see for yourself. It is amazing. Here’s a little video of us riding back in the truck:
If you can, you have to do this. Go find your swimsuit. Get in the truck.
(Our tour was through Vieques Tours. They were nice, and one of the guides bought the two of us popsicles while we waited for the cars to arrive. Aww. 787.447.4104)
Many thanks to the folks at Intel. They’re making my site more interesting by sponsoring my Mighty Life List over the next few months. They paid for this trip of a lifetime, and I can’t thank them enough.
Puerto Rico was warm, and fun, and happy. It’s not tough to make Melissa laugh, and I’m an easy audience myself, so the sensation of coughing up aspirated Coca-Cola will forever remind me of Old San Juan.
Tomorrow, I’ll tell you about swimming with the glowing plankton (amazing), but for now I’m cuddling my kid and marveling at how much extra weight you can pack on in a single week of cheese fries for breakfast. Who knew?
In other news, Melissa’s luggage was lost againon the way home. Bwah? Melissa refuses to own more than ten items of clothing at once, so the universe is trying to shove her headfirst at the nearest Old Navy. The universe obviously doesn’t know Melissa’s will, or how particular she is about her T-shirts. She’s wearing wool in July while she waits. Melissa, our thoughts are with you.
I’m writing from Puerto Rico. Ay! Ay!
Intel sent me here so I can swim with bioluminescent plankton. It’s pretty OK.
Bryan is busy running his startup, and Hank has a toddler’s commitment to routine, so with the help of a few frequent flyer miles, Melissa met me at the San Juan airport. Her luggage was lost, so I tried to make her feel better by taking her shopping. There was a wide selection at the local gift shops, but she was dubious.
This pair of shoes had zippers up the back. In case you had to get out of your shoes. Like, immediately.
She disdained the classics on offer, even though I told her we would hardly ever come into contact with escalators on the island.
How cute would this be with a lei? Right? I know!
And as the day wore on, she started to come around.
But just when I’d convinced her to trust my sartorial instinct, her bag showed up. She unpacked her Land’s End swimsuit and held it to her face while she wept softly. I poured celebratory glasses of wine, and we headed up to the roof to watch the sunset.
Today we left Old San Juan for Vieques, and I’m typing this on a very bumpy Ferry ride. Excuse me for a moment while I move my laptop so I can place my head between my knees. We’ll see you tomorrow.
Intel is making my site more interesting by sponsoring my Mighty Life List over the next few months. They’re paying for my trip to Puerto Rico so I can cross another dream off my list. Sponsors of Tomorrow, indeed.