Puerto Rico: Part I -- Adopted On the Plane

Puerto Rico '06

(as promised a few weeks back)

I should have known from the start that this was not an ordinary place.

It began harmlessly enough on the plane. A late night flight, it was full of locals on their way home, and no one was speaking a word of English. Between the crying babies, impatient parents and grandmothers with too many bags, the plane was in utter chaos before taking off. Air stewards kept trying to hurry everyone along, practically shouting their pleas of "faster, faster" over the intercom.

When, finally, we were all settled in, I found myself sitting next to a nervous looking old lady. She was whispering a prayer under her breath, hands folded neatly in her lap. I felt bad for her, knowing what it's like to hate flying, and after rummaging around in my luggage, found a bag of pretzels. I smiled and offered her some -- food, after all, cuts across all language boundries and fears.

There was an immediate change in her. She smiled at me gratefully, snatching up a handful of pretzels, nodding her thanks. Not sure if she spoke only Spanish, I smiled back. And then, suddenly, it turned out my Elderly Friend not only knew a little broken English, she loved using it. My left ear was filled up with all sorts of awkward and unfinished phrases such as "Name?" and "Where from?"

The plane flight was over 3 hours from JFK, and the woman spoke almost the entire time -- despite the fact it was close to 5am by the time we landed. She occasionally patted my arm and told me I was a nice girl, and that I would, of course, love Puerto Rico.

It turned out my new friend had lived in Rochester, New York for many years, a place I had lived in for entirely too long while attending music school. We both agreed it was too damn snowy, and not very nice to live in. After that, we were officially bonded, and she decided to take my future into her own hands, telling me "not to marry too young," and make sure to "go to school."

By the time we were circling over the Ponce airport, she had already handed my mother her home address on a slip of scrap paper. We must, she insisted, look her up while in town, and then kept asking when we would.

At the airport she followed us through the airport, helpfully pointing out baggage claim and telling us what sites to go see. Although a little overwhelmed by all the madness in the airport, (people jostling, families screaming with glee at the new arrivals, babies everywhere) my mother made assurances we would come see her if possible.

All this, and we'd barely stepped foot in Puerto Rico yet. I'd already managed to be adopted by a Puerto Rican grandmother, and after stopping by the car rental booth, realized that all the appreciative smiles of the men in the airport were directed at me. (Hell yeah, I realized right then that was a place I could get used to.)

Further adventures posted later ... and they include yet another PR grandmother (who practically tried to marry me off her to her grandson), a pelican attack, and nearly being brained by a coconut.