Vieques in December is freezing! Ok. Maybe I am being a bit dramatic. I’ve been called a “weather wuss” a time or two in my life.
We went snorkeling this day at Blue Beach. The highlight of that trip was seeing a group (family?) of squid gliding merrily along, until they were interrupted by my curiosity. When squid are “alarmed” they don’t scamper away like most fish. They stop and hover. Hover! Like a UFO. I saw that as a challenge, naturally. Their beady eyes never left mine, as I slowly inched closer and closer. If I could just touch one….
At one point, one of them spread out their tentacles, which I took as a ‘baring of fangs’, if you will. I was about to proceed further, driven by my insatiable compulsion of ignoring warning signs, when I looked around me. Tina was far away and the boys had left my side and instead backed off. I looked back at the angry squid and decided that just maybe I would turn around too.
We spend the day here, then head home and get ready for dinner. Here are a few photos from our last night. Sniff.
We go to Bili every night for a passion fruit vodka cocktail to jumpstart the night. The boys are convinced it is because Tina and I find the bartender extremely handsome and charming, but we just love the drinks. That only he can make. Swear.
We eat early, cause we have our Bio Bay tour later and we don’t want to get the cramps. The last thing anyone wants right now is an unnecessary drowning.
We go with Abe on our Bio Bay tour. Vieques has the brightest bio bay in the entire world! Wow! We are so lucky to be here. Did I mention it’s cold, and we’re kayaking at night? It’s okay though – because there are millions of stars to gaze at, and I am quite happy with those circumstances.
We kayak out to the middle of Mosquito Bay, which doesn’t get any deeper than 14 feet (and didn’t have any mosquitos, ironically), and park it, looping all of our kayaks together. We get a brief bit of history from the guide. Did you know that the Spaniards thought the bay was cursed by Satan and built a “dam” in order to prevent it from leaking into the ocean? What fools.
Then it’s time to swim in the hot mess. Not everyone dives in, which I can’t wrap my head around. The majority of the group stays INSIDE their kayaks instead of swimming. I don’t grasp how they could give up this opportunity. We frolick along, letting the bioluminescence bounce off our skin, and search for shooting stars. They claim the water stays a warm 80 degrees year round but my goosebumps that night beg to differ.
We walk home to change, which is always my favorite part of the night. The sky is black, painted with thousands of shimmering diamonds. And there is always this forceful ocean breeze that follows us home, rustling through the trees as we close the gate (so the horses won’t get in) and walk to the front door of our little blue house. It always makes me slow my step; linger just a bit more so that I can feel it on my skin, hear it in the trees. It’s like music to me, and I can never bring myself to go right inside. I love ocean breezes more than any other breeze. They’re so heavy and sweet, laden with substance and desire. And this one was definitely a keeper.
What quirky thing will I miss the most? All the locals driving by with their music blaring so loudly it’s a wonder there isn’t blood spewing from their ears. Like each car is having a contest. It always makes me smile. It is SO Latin America. Love.
Tomorrow we head back to San Juan.