11/12/91

On my way south by American Airlines - a solution that will work, but like old age is not entirely satisfactory, although better than the alternatives available. I have crawled into this monster tin box with a hundred or so other human beings that have nothing in common with me but the need to get to San Juan, and the willingness to trust someone else to navigate.

8:15 and we are up above the clouds. The sun did break through at boarding, but it's rough flying, probably smoother than sailing , so no complaint.

At 11:30 land is in sight below us, so I guess the navigator "done good". I hope he gets us down onto it in one piece. It's suddenly warm in this great tin can, and I've put down my murder book to record the beginning of the end. Landfall, yes, and a devious path of land transport ahead. Slowing down revs, decreasing pressure in ears. Stewardess putting up the hinged trays and seat backs. We are still over water, but OK, the airport is close to PR's north shore and the broken clouds are an encouraging sign. Pilot must know where we are. OK, into the clouds, obviously tipped down toward the center of the earth, no matter what shows to my inquiring glance from my seat in the middle. Stewardess sitting, it must be soon. Yup. Harbor, suburbs, slums, easterly landing, all normal, thump of landing gear deployed. He's done it all right so far. Crunch and brakes and we're down. "Please remain seated. American thanks you." Everyone in a hurry to get out. Not me. Happy to delay till the aisles are clear. I'm sure it will be sweaty, hot and humid out there "at home".

12:45 Ashore - hot and humid as expected. Baggage almost the first out surprising, I expect it to be the last (if any) and it usually is. Taxi for Rio Piedras. No they claim a cab leaves here for Yauco. OK I'll give it a try. Found him. He wants $90. Nope, but I'm willing to wait. English, but plenty of room for misunderstanding. $35 to Ensenada is what we worked it down to, but I have to wait. I'm waiting. No guarantee of course how long. Could be an hour, or a week before another Yauco fare shows. Will he abandon me? When? That's PR. I'm home! Well 82 miles yet.

An hour later (about 3:00 PR time, ahead of EST by an hour), I motioned to get my stuff out of his car and take a cab to the Centro publico at Rio Piedras. Wait, another plane in minutes. Yup 25 minutes, but no Yauco traffic, and by now it's a bit chancey that there'll be an open cab to Yauco. Much palaver. Driver lives near Yauco & will take me no matter what, if I can wait. OK, and one more passenger came and we took off at 3:50. Big Chevy, smooth ride, beautiful mountains once we got through Caguas. I opened a book, but was asleep before page 2, woke at the toll stops. Left the #2 highway in favor of a coastal road, my speed too, people - stores - plazas - stop for beer (not the driver) and a short order meal for t'other passenger. Off loaded him before Ponce 20 kilometers to Yauco, 6 or 7 more to Ensenada, and 1 more to home, dump my gear on the street, lug it into my porch, walk back to Rosa's for the keys and a big kiss and hug.

Jose is in town. Much trouble opening up in the dark. Made it to find No Water, No Gas. Rosa had brought me a 2 1/2 gal jug. OK for tonight. Flop! A trip with no disasters and very little more interest. Boring!

It's now my third day ashore - I'm unpacked but not altogether put away. The disasters started at the edge of the Aeropuerto, waiting for a publico to Yauco, and continued with the water for several days. The 13th I was up before daylight to chase the water difficulty - just shut off at the street. Hoho, easy. Hard to find a wrench. My block neighbor's cousin, 5 houses down, has one. OK, turn it on. Aha. There was a reason, a fitting of the plastic pipe leaks, wets the ground for a yard all around. OK, go get more fittings. Patch it up and turn it on - WHOOPS - blew it right apart for pressuring too soon. Another set of fittings and this time wait a half hour. Marvelous, water, sweet too, and a hot shower on my own turf.

But it was off again at breakfast. Coffee with water from Rosa's jug. The pipes had blown apart in the night, and my neighbor's open windows had got a lot of spray. He's very nice about it, has had such troubles of his own. Turned it off at the street again. So I cut out a lot of the "Mickey Mouse" patchwork, brought new fittings and a new shovel, and now about to turn on the water with a prayer. The gas man came yesterday, very promptly, with a new propane tank, so now - if it holds up [latest word was at least 2 more blowouts of water!], I'll be in business, the living biz: water, stove, roof, motora. The typewriter will take a week. The sewing machine is in Yauco. I have food in my Going refridge.

So this is the latest of the peregrinations of Peter - too old to sail, too young to have patience or confidence in air travel, and too rich to stay in one place! What will I ever do without a boat? And now the time for hunting a crew for October 1992. Any suggestions? And more for a spring trip North in 1993. Or is anyone game for a short one in July for Bastille day in St. Pierre?

Merry Christmas you guys and Happy New Year, and love to all

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