Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
One of the first things we noticed when we started thinking about buying a house in Vieques
is that most of the island's residences are built almost entirely of concrete—including, not
incidentally, the one we bought.
Concrete structures have their pluses and minuses. While it's true that concrete walls
make the simple task of hanging a picture an hour-long ordeal, they also cut down consider-
ably on termite damage (unless you get concrete-loving termites, but we've already covered
that particular horror). More important, concrete walls help keep your house from falling
down during a hurricane. That's a big plus.
Most people unfamiliar with Vieques assume that the best houses are on the beach. But
because the majority of the island's loveliest beaches are located on land requisitioned in the
1950s by the U.S. Navy, those same beaches are on protected land today.
Consequently there are very few beach houses. Sure, there are a handful of beachfront
properties on the island—our friend Jonah has one in Bravos de Boston, and the view from
his living room is stunning.
But the beaches these houses face are relatively meager by Vieques standards. And then
of course there's always the possibility that a huge wave will crash into your parlor and com-
pletely destroy everything you've worked like a dog to accomplish over the past ten years.
That's one of the reasons why we bought a house in the hills.
Admittedly, I've never been a person who obsesses about weather. Michael, on the other
hand, watches the Weather Channel on a daily basis. To him, Doppler radar has the same
appeal as a video game to a fourteen-year-old boy. He simply can't get enough of it.
To be honest, I barely gave a thought to hurricanes when we bought the house. I'm a
worrier, to be sure, but my worrying is highly focused and somewhat stylized. I worry about
leaving home clad in brown shoes and a black belt, not about Acts of God. I'm so busy ob-
sessing about those unsightly dings in the side of my car I sometimes forget to change the
oil.
You get the picture.
Of all the things I fretted about in the weeks leading up to our purchase of the house in
Vieques, hurricanes didn't even make the list. But they came into much sharper focus the
first time I surfed past the Weather Channel and happened to notice a pinwheel-shaped mass
hovering almost directly over Puerto Rico.
“Oh my God, is
that
what a hurricane looks like?” I wailed to Michael, who (naturally)
was also watching in the next room and was so traumatized by what was unfolding on the
TV screen he could barely speak.
“Is our house in danger?” I asked, joining him.
“Uh, maybe.”
He was clearly spooked, and soon I was too. We sat side by side for at least two hours
while the Weather Channel spooled through its staggeringly boring cycle of weather updates.
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