I’ve always wanted to visit Puerto Rico, the small island of my ancestors, ever since I can remember. Plans to go failed over the years for one reason or another, but the third time was the charm!
Our first visit to Puerto Rico for our 30th wedding anniversary was set, and after making the flight reservations and renting an Airbnb, we were so excited to have some family members join us! Our baby girl, my lit’l brother, cousins, hubby, and I made the 6 of us. ¡Wepa!
¡Hola me gente!The Flor de Maga: the official flower of the Commonwealth of PRSome of the colorful buildings in Old San Juan, P.R.Going to enjoy a little grub after our walk.Bright blue Caribbean Ocean view at Castillo San Felipe del Morro in San Juan.Our daughter had these awesome tumblers specifically made for us.This was an entire roasted pig: Lechon AsadoTower of Fort Castillo de San CristóbalThis cat sanctuary looks after the community cat colony of Paseo del Morro in the historic San Juan district‘When you dance with your heart, your feet follow.’Hanging out with some of Puerto Rico’s colorful majestic parrots.Luquillo Beach, also called Balneario de la Monserrate, where the sand varies in color from ivory to golden and darker on the north side due to the trees. I sure almost tumbled twice. Thank you, brother, for having my back!
Those rocks are slick!This Guava chicken was as good as it looks! ¡Ay que rico!This is the tour boat that will take us on a 4-hour snorkeling adventure!Love doing life with my soul-mate.These sea turtles swimming under us were enormous!Love these two souls.
And these are the 6 fun-loving crazies enjoying our last evening together in Puerto Rico, out on the patio. We shared tons of stories, many delicious meals, and loads of laughter. We plan on getting together again in the future, hopefully with even more family members.
I wholeheartedly loved our time in Puerto Rico and learning about its fascinating culture. I enjoyed the few excursions we took, mainly visiting El Yunque Rainforest, and getting on a boat to go snorkeling and see some of the wonders of marine life underwater.
I found it interesting that the little chirping Coquí frogs are the national symbol for Puerto Rico: and just like the Puerto Rican people, they are resilient, their voices are loud, and they will be heard! LOL and this is why the coquí is the perfect national symbol for Puerto Rico: small island, small frog, BIG VOICE. Besides, these tiny creatures would have kept me up all night if I didn’t have my earplugs on!
Bucket list. I imagined I would. Some day. Always wanted to. But never really thought I’d actually go through with it.
My posse and me
I’ve been away on a mini-vacation, a road trip to San Marcus and to San Antonio. Not only did I go, but I went on this excursion with some great gal friends of mine. Overall, it was an exhilarating ride!
I learned a few things on this trip.
I learned that if you put your mind to a thing, you can fulfill a task (if you plan ahead). I learned that schedules don’t always go according to your plans. You may come across a few bumps and potholes along the way, and the winding roads of life may take a bit longer to get to your destination. And I learned that I don’t always do well during these obstacles. (Ahem.)
You see, my expectations may be to do thus and so, and once my mind is made up, I am in a wee bit hurry in getting there. But I also learned that it’s best to stop and smell the roses and make every second count. Because if you don’t, then you’ll regret that you didn’t do better when you easily could have. I learned (and I sometimes forget) to choose my battles and not all hiccups mean the end of the world! I learned that making each moment count are what makes every memory cherished. I learned that as much as I have strengths, I still have weaknesses that need work. Egads! I learned that growing older doesn’t necessarily mean you stop learning. I learned that no matter what, there is always something to be grateful for. And I learn (sort of already knew) that I have the bestest of friends! We love and accept one another–flaws and all–and if feeling down, we lift the other up!
So what did we do, you ask? You mean besides the driving, shopping, dining, visiting my in-laws, and shopping some more?
We went Up, Up and Away in My Beautiful Balloon!
Now those who know me know that I have acrophobia (not to be confused with arachnophobia, which I also happen to be but that’s another topic). Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I have a fear of heights. Or is it a fear of falling? Either way, I tend to get the heebie-jeebies. I discovered I wasn’t the only one among us who was set on facing this fear. And so face it we did; we rose to the occasion. Matter of fact, I was so busy taking photos on my phone, I didn’t have much time to allow that nervousness to take over!
Before take off, once the pilot said to hop in, we (about fifteen total in all) scrambled up inside that basket (with a little assistance from the crew), howbeit somewhat clumsily with one of our legs unable to lower from the ledge of the basket down in our tight space. So much for dignity.
To Deborah, Judy and my new friend, LeAnn: Thanks for the memories. What’s next?
For your enjoyment, here are a few photos of our adventure.
Have you ever experienced a what if? Ever been dangerously close to a hazardous situation, to realize just how fortunate you were to have escaped, only to have it gnaw at you later?
Today, as I celebrate this Independence Day, my mind goes back to a moment in time I shall never forget.
We headed for Colorado’s Rocky Mountain State Park for a continued weekend bicentennial celebration, to enjoy the magnificent canyons’ cool mountain air and breathtaking river valleys.
Loveland Pass, CO looking east from the summit. Courtesy of Wikipedia.
The afternoon breeze mingled with the whiff of hamburgers sizzling on the pit, put our troubles behind us. Don was in good spirits, along with an ample supply of his favorite beverage. He drank one after another, as he rehashed old childhood and war stories. I roasted marshmallows over the campfire until raindrops drove us inside our van. We tucked in for the night in our sleeping bags.
In no time, Don’s snoring commenced. As my eyelids grew heavy, I thought, at least I’m not out in this wilderness alone.
Sometime later, I awoke with a start, “Donny! Donny, wake up!”
“Hmmm?” my still-asleep, great protector mumbled, turning over.
I sat up and held my breath. I felt the van vibrate. The plunking sound of raindrops rattled across the rooftop, lashing at the van’s exterior. I strained to listen for something else, feel something else but wasn’t sure what.
Only a case of bad nerves, I reasoned, starting to lie back down. No! There it is again.
“Donny, did you feel that? Our whole van shook!”
“Go back to sleep, gal,” Donny muttered. “It’s probably just a bear.”
Just a bear? Better not be any bear out there!
Minutes passed. I lay back down and willed my body to relax. The sound of rain soon lulled my unsettled thoughts and sleep overtook me. Before nodding off, I thought I heard rumbling in the distance.
Dusk turned to dawn, and I considered my night’s fright silly. We ate a quick breakfast of hard-boiled eggs, leftover meat, and orange juice.
“Shake a leg,” Donny announced. “Time to go.”
We left our campsite cruising over mucky roads. Puddles and slushy trails made the roads treacherous and tricky. At one point, our van was stuck in the mud. Donny kept his foot over the gas pedal and accelerated. The tires sloshed and the van swirled, nearly tipping over.
“Jesus!” I cried out, thinking we were history.
Unruffled under pressure, Donny turned the wheel sharply to the right and back on the road again.
“What’s the matter?” he said, looking at me as if I were a dimwit.
“Nothing,” I huffed.
As we continued, we noticed massive trees toppled over, and many bobbed along in the river. We heard the whump, whump, whump, whump of helicopters overhead. Soon, we approached park rangers re-routing traffic. I stuck my head out the window and overheard bits of instructions given to other passengers in their vehicle. “. . . mountainside . . . engulfed . . . destroyed . . . missing . . . proceed with extreme caution . . . !”
The reporter on the radio described how a typical summer rainfall turned into a horrendous nightmare for hundreds of people. Many homes were washed away in a flash flood. Cars vanished, buried under tons of debris. Roads had swept away along the canyon, and broken concrete sticking out of the riverbank like foreign objects. It took hours before we careened back into town.
Photo: Vehicles were left stranded in the aftermath of the 1976 Big Thompson flood. Courtesy of Water Resources Archive
“Big Thompson River Flood Marker” by Wusel007 – Own work. Licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0 via Wikimedia Commons
The morning headlines read:
“THE BIG THOMPSON CANYON FLASH FLOOD.”
Many were reported missing. Dead. Houses and businesses were washed away, and destroyed. The overwhelming thought hit me on how oblivious we were to the dangers the night before. If we had camped near the Loveland area, we would never have escaped. Donny could have innocently erred by having us camped out in that Loveland area—and brushed off my concerns in his half-drunken sleep, just as he did the night before. Then what? We might have been one of those statistics.
Have you ever experienced a what-if? Ever been dangerously close to a hazardous situation, to realize just how fortunate you were to have escaped, only to have it gnaw at you later?
Loveland Pass, CO looking east from the summit. Courtesy of Wikipedia.
Today, as I celebrate this Independence Day, my mind goes back to a moment in time I shall never forget.
We headed for Colorado’s Rocky Mountain State Park for a continued weekend bicentennial celebration, to enjoy the magnificent canyons’ cool mountain air and breathtaking river valleys.
The afternoon breeze mingled with the whiff of hamburgers sizzling on the pit, put our troubles behind us. Don was in good spirits, along with an ample supply of his favorite beverage. He drank one after another, as he rehashed old childhood and war stories. I roasted marshmallows over the campfire until raindrops drove us inside our van. We tucked in for the night in our sleeping bags.
In no time, Don’s snoring commenced. As my eyelids grew heavy, I thought, at least I’m not out in this wilderness alone.
Sometime later, I awoke with a start, “Donny! Donny, wake up!”
“Hmmm?” my still-asleep, great protector mumbled, turning over.
I sat up and held my breath. I felt the van vibrate. The plunking sound of raindrops rattled across the rooftop, lashing at the van’s exterior. I strained to listen for something else, feel something else but wasn’t sure what.
Only a case of bad nerves, I reasoned, starting to lie back down. No! There it is again.
“Donny, did you feel that? Our whole van shook!”
“Go back to sleep, gal,” Donny muttered. “It’s probably just a bear.”
Just a bear? Better not be any bear out there!
Minutes passed. I lay back down and willed my body to relax. The sound of rain soon lulled my unsettled thoughts and sleep overtook me. Before nodding off, I thought I heard rumbling in the distance.
Dusk turned to dawn, and I considered my night’s fright silly. We ate a quick breakfast of hard-boiled eggs, leftover meat, and orange juice.
“Shake a leg,” Donny announced. “Time to go.”
We left our campsite cruising over mucky roads. Puddles and slushy trails made the roads treacherous and tricky. At one point, our van was stuck in the mud. Donny kept his foot over the gas pedal and accelerated. The tires sloshed and the van swirled, nearly tipping over.
“Jesus!” I cried out, thinking we were history.
Unruffled under pressure, Donny turned the wheel sharply to the right and back on the road again.
“What’s the matter?” he said, looking at me as if I were a dimwit.
“Nothing,” I huffed.
As we continued, we noticed massive trees toppled over, and many bobbed along in the river. We heard the whump, whump, whump, whump of helicopters overhead. Soon, we approached park rangers re-routing traffic. I stuck my head out the window and overheard bits of instructions given to other passengers in their vehicle. “. . . mountainside . . . engulfed . . . destroyed . . . missing . . . proceed with extreme caution . . . !”
The reporter on the radio described how a typical summer rainfall turned into a horrendous nightmare for hundreds of people. Many homes were washed away in a flash flood. Cars vanished, buried under tons of debris. Roads had swept away along the canyon, and broken concrete sticking out of the riverbank like foreign objects. It took hours before we careened back into town.
The morning headlines read:
Photo: Vehicles were left stranded in the aftermath of the 1976 Big Thompson Flood. Courtesy of Water Resources Archive (We were approx 35 miles west of this disaster.)
“THE BIG THOMPSON CANYON FLASH FLOOD.”
Many were reported missing. Dead. Houses and businesses were washed away, and destroyed. The overwhelming thought hit me on how oblivious we were to the dangers the night before. If we had camped near the Loveland area, we would never have escaped. Donny could have innocently erred by having us camped out in that Loveland area—and brushed off my concerns in his half-drunken sleep, just as he did the night before. Then what? We might have been one of those statistics.
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Reflections From the Heart 