Puerto Rico…Because it Was There. (Day 4 of 7)

So, I wrote this days blog and accidentally deleted it, so to set the mood, I am pissed I gotta retype this, so if there is an extra dose of angst, you will know why. I came to around 7am. The boat back to the mainland did not leave until 11am so I had from now until then to ride back across the mountain and return the bike. I started off on the road with my pack and bike and not soon after I had a flat tire. I sat by the road for a bit eating some oranges and tried to hitchhike, but no pickup was eager to offer a ride. I had the equipment to fix the tire but I guess I was looking for an excuse not to ride back over that hill. I took my time and just walked the bike.

I made it back to the ferry by 9, so I still had a couple of hours. I dropped the bike off and noticed a shower in the back of the bike shop. They were cool with me showering and washing my clothes.

I take pictures of the bathrooms because they are like diamonds in the rough and it gives me great pride to show my great find. A warm shower to a weary traveler is hard to top.  I hung my clothes and proceeded to walk the town in my swim trunks. I walked into a bakery and they immediately told me to leave without a shirt on. I laughed because I thought they were kidding. I am in this tired, lazy beach town, struggling to stay above the poverty line with pregnant dogs dominating the landscape, they have a Tshirt policy? I guess they follow the “Broken Windows Theory”

I went on down to this outside foot stand and had a seat.

They guy next to me asked where my shirt was, to which I replied that I had misplaced it. What the hell was going on here? I took my empanada and went and sat down by the water. A policeman actually came down and told me to find a shirt. At this point I am feelin like Stallone in Rambo First Blood where the local town is doing everything they can to keep the Vietnam war vet from stopping there for a respite. I was a couple minutes from going postal, laying waste to the town and having to have them call in Colonel Trautman to talk me down, with me mumbling something about them starting it and if it wasn’t for that damn baker.

A couple more shots in town

My clothes were relatively dry so I went back and gathered my stuff to wait for the boat.where I ran into my WV friends and their family, promising to make contact for a trip down to visit the town of Pineville.  Getting onto the boat I snapped this shot of a coffin returning to the island

I was headed West with a loose agenda. I stopped at a place called Pollo Tropical. I passed up a Sizzler, Ponderosa and about 10 Church’s Chicken. I felt like Michael J Fox in Back to the future and instead of going back to 1965 I regressed to 1985 to the land of misfit American restaurants. The Pollo Tropical was interesting. They have a couple in Miami, but had not had the privilege. It is a cross between a McDonalds and a Chipolte. I tried to take a picture of the menu

It is vast. It covers anything from burgers to chicken, beans, fish. They are constantly grillin in the back. Basically it looks like a hellish place to work, but the food was tolerable for a traveler looking to ensure a safe meal.

I was working my way West on the PanAmerican Hwy, which is nothing more than a paved driveway. Before I got onto the “Highway” I was flying down the toll roads. They have a sort of EZPass setup. You drive 50mph and the camera records your info and charges your account. Well, I did not have the EZPass but that did not stop me from taking that lane as opposed to stopping to pay the toll at the booth. It was strange but everytime I went through one of these, a loud alarm sounded and some red light flashed….oh well.

I stopped a few time on my trip through the mountains to take in the sights

I was close to this Canon De Cristobal I had read about in Lonely Planet so I decided to search it out. The book said that it was on private property, mentioning something about getting a view from an intersection but not being able to get close. The gauntlet had been laid down and the travel had to answer with vigor.

I stopped at the intersection mentioned and did not see anything. I stopped at a bar/market/town hall and sought out an English speaking fellow playing video Poker. He told me I needed to find a green house and knock on the door asking for El Dildo and he would let me climb down the canyon in his backyard. I repeated “El Dildo?” just to make sure. He confirmed and he started to draw a map. I started to write El Dildo on the top and then thought I better not because I might be mispronouncing and just scribbled Dil-something.

I found the house and asked for El Dildo muffling a cough and trailing off.

He confirmed and told me to follow the man with his sons down. I looked over and there was a middle-age man with a machete and his son carrying a pick axe. I had to laugh as I figured this should make an interesting story if indeed return to tell.

They spoke no English. I did determine they were Angelo (Father) and 2 sons Angel and Manuel.

After walking down a path for about 15 minutes, the father seemed to peel off with the tools to pick some vegetables. The three of us continued down to the valley floor speaking in Spanglish

We found these amazing pools and waterfalls, stopping to dive of rocks and swim about in the chilly water.

around dark we headed back up and met up with Angelo. He looked like a beaten man with 2 huge sacks full of potatoe-like vegetables. I shouldered one and after taking some group shots we headed back to the car

When we made it back to the Green House I passed out some Oranges and handed them $20 for the trouble for dealing with the gringo. They explained that we were in the town of Aibonito  and invited me to there gathing place for a cerveza. We walked a couple hundred yards to a building like most that had a market/bar the size of a large family room. They introduced me to the townfolk when as they arrived after a long days work. It seemed to be customary to buy the American drinks all night.

 After hanging out for a few hours, playing pool I graciously thanked them but knew I had to move on or I would be passing out on someones porch and my car might be up on blocks.  I was pretty much lost and just following winding mountain roads hoping to hit the coast and the town of Ponce. I passed tons of parties along the way, fighting to keep moving when I really wanted to stop and meet some locals. I then remembered someone saying that 90% of the local woman had HIV and I felt better about my decision, whether that stat is true is obviously debatable but it had its desired effect.

I arrived in Ponce and the clubs were hopping. All the guys were dressed like Frank Sinatra out of the 50s with those Rat Pack hats on. They rode to the bars of their horses.

 I tried to find parking but ending up in dead ends with barely enough room to get down the road, let alone back out. I felt like I was in a scene from Patriot Games where I was about to be sealed in one of this roads and guys would appear from the rooftops firing RPGs at me.  I eventually found a spot and hit the bars. I stood out and after a while I got a little tired of everyone looking at me and retreated to my room (read car). I called my brother and he mentioned that I was not far from a Hilton Resort and Casino on the coast. I liked the sound of that as the streets in town were too well light for me to sleep comfortably.

I walked into the casino and saw that it was filled with American businessman and their 15yo Rican escorts. I sat down to play some Blackjack and ordered a drink. They waiter asked what room I was staying in. I told him I was not and tried to pay cash. He repeated, “What name?” I said I am not on the hotel. It took one more exchange for me to understand that we were gunna work these transactions on the down low.  I told him I was Mr Underhill and tipped him for the service.

It was quite humorous playing cards as the escorts at my table kept trying to make decisions that were nonsensical. The dealer would respond and then the Businessmen would get all pissed. The Pit boss came over and told the dealer to just ignore the girls. So you basically had these girls making hand gestures and the guys making their own and the dealer totally ignoring the women, not that they really knew they were being ignored. One guy next to me leaned over and said, “You play well.” I chuckled, we were playing blackjack where a monkey could make the same decisions and really little if any strategy involved. While talking to him I made a really dumb move and busted the whole table up. He did not speak to me anymore so I reasoned that the financial loss involved in the hand was worth the discontinuation of conversation.

I did reasonably well and the smart person would take their winnings and get a room, but I just headed out to the parking lot at 5am and slept for an hour before really taking advantage of my surroundings.

(Link to All Trip Pictures)

 (Link to Trip Good Shots)

Until Tomorrow

Darren