Translatd by Muna Gurung

January 31, 2002
Though Puerto Rico is considered America’s 51st state, today, it has its own government. After getting rid of the 300 year-old Spanish colonisers, Puerto Rico is now one of the most popular ‘holiday islands’ in the Caribbean. The island can be divided into 6 different areas comprising Old San Juan, Beach and Resort Areas and surrounding communities.

Today, I will go to Old San Juan and visit the 400-year-old Old Fort El-Morro. It has been raining all morning, and I will start the two-hour journey as soon as the rain subsides. Fort El-Morro, built by Spanish military engineers in 1539, is cited as one of the most attractive places on the World Heritage List.

February 3, 2002
In the rainforest, the weather is unpredictable. One moment it’s raining in buckets, the next, the sun is scorching hot. I meet an acquaintance, Robin. He has a small circular cabin in the rainforest. He has a wide variety of plants in his almost encyclopedic farm- with pear trees from South Africa, Brazil and NEPAL! In this part of the world, I have noticed a strange species of frogs; these frogs climb trees and constantly make a funny and entertaining ‘ko-kee/ko-kee’ sound. And the village roosters here crow continuously.

At 11, we put on our raincoats, carry our cameras, and with our walking sticks, we go for a hike. It is raining, but the sun is warm- we walk into the jungles. It is difficult to hike, since the rain makes the already undulating path slippery. We see a group of children happily swimming in the ponds—the ponds must be icy cold, but does not seem to affect them. After three hours of hiking, we stop for a small snack. We take a lot of pictures of all kinds of flowers, birds and frogs. We then return home, squelching in the mud— rain and sun still over our heads.

I am tired. I am hungry. My body feels heavy. We go to a restaurant but they don’t have rice. They only serve fried chicken and fried bananas, a popular dish in South and Central America.

February 4, 2002
I cannot sleep. The frogs croak ‘ko-kee/ko-kee’ continuously and the insomniac village roosters crow through the night. Two nights in the rainforest cabin makes my journey a lot more interesting. After packing my bags, I head out from the cabin and after walking about two kilometres, reach Robin’s farm. When I get there, he has prepared coffee for us. Robin tells me that when he was as old as me, he used to be a drifter like me. He has been to many countries and has met people all around the world. He tells me that he met his wife, Teresita, when he stopped over in the Philippines on one of his journeys. After he was tired of travelling, he settled in the rainforest of Puerto Rico as a fruit farmer.

When it was time to leave, Robin picked up some fresh oranges and bananas for me. I dropped it in my bag and headed out to continue my journey. 5 km downhill and I meet Highway 191. If I take the left and head West, I reach San Juan. It’s a long ride pass beaches and congested city roads. After a flat tyre, I finally reach the airport at 2 p.m. I miss my flight. There are no seats on the next flight and the last flight would only leave the airport at 9:50. I wait. I have to.

February 5, 2002
When I get out of St. Kitts airport, it is midnight. I get a taxi and tell the driver to drop me off at the city’s cheapest hotel. He takes me to Glimbaro Guest House. A drunkard pulls open my door, carries my bags and drags my cycle till the hotel door. The taxi zooms off. I don’t have enough change for the drunkard, so I tell him that I will tip him tomorrow. There is an emergency number stuck on the door. It seems like the hotel’s owner does not live in the hotel, so I call the emergency number, but no one answers the phone. I sit down at the hotel’s main door. I can hear mosquitoes sirening around me. I fall asleep at the door. The next morning, the same drunkard wakes me up. The owner has still not arrived. The drunkard insists I tip him. I brush myself up and I take him to a coffee shop. We drink coffee. When I get some change, I give the drunkard a dollar.

St. Kitts, though small and old, is clean. I see no newly-built houses. No big buildings. The tin-roofs of the old houses are rusty and old. The houses are small. From the southern port of Zente, you can see Monkey Hill in the north clearly. At the foot of Monkey Hill, there is a small village. After lunch, I drop by at the Free Wheelers Bicycle Shop. I am introduced to Royston Stevens. There, we fix my cycle’s faulty gear. We then cycle 5 km away from the city to a crowded Frigate Bay where tourists, hungry for a combination of the sun, sea and the sand, fill the whole place. Royston takes a plunge into the sea, while I sit down at the beach; I don’t like to swim in salty water. I take out my camera and start taking pictures of birds skillfully diving at an apt angle to catch fishes from the sea. At 5.30 p.m., we leave for Royston’s hometown, Half Way Tree, a place 15 km from St. Kitts. On the way, we take our last rest stop at the oldest Caribbean city, Old Road Town.