The economy of Puerto Rico is worse than not good. I heard a lot about it from Gabby last night over beers at a seaside bar called La Pescaderia. I’ve been there before – in fact it is my favorite hangout in Puerto Rico. I always love to hear things from the source, and as we sat inside this beautiful enclave, feeling safe and impervious, Gabby explained the impending financial ramifications of a bankrupt commonwealth.
Kim and I tucked into fried fish and conch salad like, well, like people who climbed steep hills for two hours earlier in the day. Gabby had beer, Kim had non-alcoholic beer and I drank gassy water, neat, in a plastic cup.
How do I describe my feelings, sitting in my favorite kind of bar, but not drinking wine? First of all this is a place people come to DRINK. Like it’s their job. And there are so many triggers – the sound of the nighttime waves; the buzz of the blender; the smell of brine and wine on the air; the raucous reminiscences, bellowed by those belly-up to the bar top…
I almost wish I could tell you I struggled. It seems like I should have clutched the table in a wine craving frenzy. But, here’s how I felt – I felt fine. Totally okay with my circumstances. Happy. Smart. Sober.
Se puede creer?
