Corky Parker's Blog, page 3

Work. Stay. Love.

I'm home and almost settled after three weeks at the finca. Three weeks of lots of work, and lots of wonder; of being overwhelmed for days on end by loss and joy, both. I don't know if I've ever returned from a trip -- anywhere -- with so many folks asking to hear about how my trip went and how Puerto Rico is doing. Everyone seems to want the direct connection; they want clarity around Puerto Rico and all that is all so unclear in the media; unsure what sources to trust. They want good news. They want it to be better than the news reports, or our pictures indicated. An overarching genuine care, sadness and frustration is clear across the board.I wish I could report that it's all okay now; that the media or the photos exaggerate the negative. The the fact is, though, it's still tough going -- in many ways -- for many; for whole communities. My heart breaks for those as damaged as the finca was, without other resources, or other homes and lives to grab hold of elsewhere. Despite our losses, I know we are among the lucky ones. I am writing from my sweet cabin on Washington's Olympic Peninsula. We have electricity, a working hospital, a reliable police force.I stand in awe and deep respect for everyone on both islands, Puerto Rico, and Vieques, who refuse to give up; who give and give of themselves in the rebuilding. Island wide efforts help restore homes and neighborhoods. Businesses and restaurants are re-opening. The community is slowly coming alive. So, the very shortest answer is, as usual, yes! Go! If you want to help out physically, there's plenty of volunteer work. If you just want a vacation, that helps too. The island needs visitors -- like never before. And interestingly, our "finca-style" sort of traveler is exactly the sort to be able to laugh off the bumps in the road; whether its the gift shop that can't take credit cards, or the smaller offering's on the menus. Big damn deal. Go!If you want all the trimmings, come down and and stay elsewhere -- Hix House, Hacienda Tamarindo, Casa Amistad, on Vieques or the Dreamcatcher House in Ocean Park (on the main island, on your way). But, if you can rough it a bit, like a bit of adventure, the finca, or more specifically, our new smaller sized "finquita" is officially open, in a less than official way... but whole-heartedly waiting for you.Right now, instead of renting out any accommodations we're only offering work/trade stays, where you "pay" for your stay by helping to repair and clean up around the place. As sweet as we've gotten the houses and cabins, it doesn't seem right to charge anyone yet...not while you still have to look out over the debris field that used to be the main house. If you're interested, there's info on our site, lafinca.com. Either way, through work parties now, or hopefully, "regular" rentals next winter, we can house up to 15 folks (based on double occupancy per room). Our caretaker, Jahwit, is usually around to point you to the morning's priority projects and tools for the job; or later play some awesome reggae jam under the stars. Because the stars, the frogs, the beaches...they are all still there. Yep. The finca still has its magic beauty and peace; its way of bringing wonderful people together. And this past stay, without electricity (refrigeration, hot water, fans) was no exception. Total strangers become friends when working long hard days together to help rebuild, repair, remember and re-think. I did a lot of the latter.Just what, and how, am I going to deal with all this? I really don't know yet, but it's step by step, poco a poco. I don't know what Puerto Rico's, Vieques' or the finca's future looks like. Not sure what I'm going to do with that manuscript of mine. What do you do with a book about a place that only half exists anymore? I don't hold on to future plans too much nowadays.I do know that our place will be built on love; family, and friends, old and new. That much hasn't changed. And thanks to you all, love is easier to find, and more reliable than most other building materials in Puerto Rico these days. You're welcome to come be apart of it, corky

after & before. knowing & going.

The last time I wrote it was before we knew anything. To think of the sweet innocence; having no idea of the devastation of the finca, of Puerto Rico, the hardship for thousands, and the current administration's unconscionable neglect of it all. Who could have imagined any of it? Now, after four months, I've found my footing enough, to write.  I can usually talk about the finca without getting choked up. Tears still push behind my eyes. And, seeing photos of the main house; any of her little corners of magic that don't exist anymore,  that still does me in. I have a hard time fully comprehending that the big open air kitchen with all those hanging pots, and the hammock, right out by the hibiscus isn't there. So much like death; so hard to "get."But, gulp. I'm going down in late February. Finally. I've been unable to go by an almost unimaginable string of losses, before, and after the hurricane. My husband Bill, who many of you knew, passed away from cancer last summer, six weeks before Maria. I won't write about that here, but Bill didn't live to see that Casa Nueva, the house he designed to withstand hurricanes, did just that. He also doesn't know a month after the hurricane, a smaller home we'd bought for me in Washington State, was burned, not quite to the ground, but close enough to keep me here to deal with for the winter. (I'm counting on you to know I'm not writing for your pity -- I've actually had enough of that.) Life has smoothed out. I am pretty zen -- I guess. That's what I hear.  I'm lucky to be surrounded, and supported by love --  of family and friends. -- I just thought you should know why the captain of the ship, we call la finca caribe, hasn't been back yet.

Remnant of the main house’s compass rose floor tells us which way is

I am gearing up; both excited, and fearful -- bracing for what I know will be dreadfully hard. It's one thing to lose a place, a thing, or lots of things, but to to have to paw through the wreckage, sorting it into piles of possible building materials, trash, memories, and dreams.  Oh that we be so lucky to find anything still worth saving -- even a blue shutter. God give me strength. Every floor we painted, every tin roof we repaired, every sheet we folded, every mug we hung, every love note from guests tucked into the collage of the front desk. Yikes. My kids wouldn't let me do this alone, so I'm bringing along a crew to help.Despite our earlier announcement the place was completely ruined, most of the wooden cabins are in fact are still there --in varying degrees of damage. The main house is completely gone. Well...actually, that would be easier. It's there, but shattered and scattered over the property. Scott and Bill's guess is that the 217 mile an hour winds went under the house, and turned her over. It's the only thing that explains washers, dryers, and stoves, and everything else, strewn wide and far.Although so many ask, it's still way too early to know what our long term plans are. For now, our priorities are repairing what's left and cleaning up the debris. Then we can take stock. We're starting to organize work parties for the loving guests, hardy souls and inquiring minds who've been asking.  We certainly need any help we can get. If you are a self-sufficient self-starter, whose fantasized about being Indiana Jones or a red cross rescuer and you don't mind roughing it with generators and minimal other comforts, then email me at manager@lafnca.com. But know that you'd be coming as a friend, not a guest, on your own, and have to rent your own car etc. Alternately, if you are coming down and staying elsewhere, let me know if you want to come by to help for a day or two. We have a friend living on the property who can likely point you to projects, and even maybe some tools. So please, you'd have to let us know in advance.

Our better half today.

Our dear managers, Bill and Scott have moved into Isabel, and are managing Casa Amistad. To say that I wish them well and will always be grateful for all they went through and did for the finca, doesn't come close. I'm just so glad they found work at a great place on the island they love so much -- that even has a little electricity!I miss the finca. And part of my missing it, is missing you. Without the place, I'm left without a way of seeing you, of sharing the love with families, friends, the school, and all other community, groups. I'm still trying to figure out a way to stay connected in news way. For now, I'll write here every so often, and maybe I'll get my book published. I finished it the month before Bill was diagnosed. it ends on the happy note, that after 20 years of love, sweat and tears, "I'm the lucky lady who got the finca."So, don't hold your breath for that. I'm still looking for time to write the epilogue. Writing to you came first.With deep gratitude and great memories,corkyPS. Here's a debrief from my son on the state of affairs on Vieques and at the Finca, at New Years. Nothing official -- just his thoughts...

"All in all, Puerto Rico and Vieques are in MUCH better shape than I imagined. It clearly got REALLY bad there, and it took three months of hard work, but the locals and the geography are back on their feet. With 3 ferries running now, there is gas at gas stations, food and beer in grocery stores, the people are frustrated and tired and optimistic, and businesses are re-opening. However, the consistency of the ferries have been a problem, so I would suggest flying and not relying on them for transport. Casa Nueva and Cabanita are in great shape, nearly rentable (minus water and electric :). The bad side, is that Casa Grande and managers cabin were essentially 100% destroyed. Honestly, the worst destruction I found anywhere on the trip, and locals agreed it was possibly the worst on the island.Red, Secret, Sun Bay complex, Esperanza beaches and the navy pier are open. Water is murky and some places/times has smelled slightly, but people say it is improving rapidly. The locals have played a major role in cleaning the beaches but it will take time. The beaches are all re-shaped, ie the wave breaks and slope of the sand are different. There are a handful of restaurants open, with good food with fresh fish. Several are expanding which is good to see. Mikey is rebuilding the Chez Shack dance floor at Tin box, and adding 80+ seats. Electricity is on for 20 hrs a day in Isabel II, but this is just FEMA generators running a microgrid. Water is on in most places. Locals don't seem to trust the government and so most people are boiling it before drinking..

Remember to check Facebook for news, and -- for those of you who don't use FB -- our page is public so you don't need to be "on FB" to read, and stay in touch!

Unknowing

I am going to try to write. It’s all I can do, after giving money and answering this morning’s batch of sad, worried questions and fretting my way through the little bits of news.

Maybe the gate is still standing…

I'm beyond distracted. Like so many of us with loved ones in Puerto Rico, I'm in the unreal world of not knowing. Today is the fifth day of not knowing how the guys are, or what the place looks like. How much of it is still standing.It is surreal to be sitting in a little cabin in Washington state on a beautiful fall day, with a fresh bagel and a latte, totally comfortable, while I think about Scott and Bill, our beloved managers. I think of them and all our friends and neighbors on Vieques living without utilities, public water, communications of any kind, gasoline for generators, roads that are passable, or much available food and services on the whole island. And my heart breaks for their hardship and loss. No refrigeration for weeks now, and now no ice for the coolers.And then there's the forecast of how many months it will be for some of those to be restored. And the photos of houses throughout the island that may or may not be indicative of what the finca looks like now. Again waiting unknowing. We may have lost it all. Or maybe just a lot.I have lost it all before. So that part doesn't really bother me as much as the suffering of my friends and neighbors on Vieques and Puerto Rico. That's when the tears start flowing. They've suffered and suffered and suffered. Economic, political, oppression, corruption, alleged Zika scares, and now what…how do we describe Maria? Natural disaster doesn't do it justice. Island wide apocalypse? I don't know. That's the problem, after four long days of waiting with phone on, nervously checking for any calls and tiny bits of updates, bits I don't know much of anything.One thing I do know is the love so many of you have for the place. Everyone of these four long days is filled with concern and support from guests who want to know how the guys are, where to give, what to do and if they can come down to help in the clean up and rebuilding. Sharing the place with such great folks is what the place is, and has always been about.So….in response to your questions:Re Scott and Bill, between virtually no communication still and impassable roads, we've yet to hear from them but that's the case for most people on the island at this time. Scott and Bill's welfare is our highest priority and updates will continue to be posted to our Facebook page.Re winter reservations, Thanks for your patience. As soon as we know enough we’ll get back to you.Re work parties, yes! stay tuned we’ll be organizing down the road.Re immediate and direct giving to the island — https://www.gofundme.com/viequesloveFor more info or messaging email is better than Facebook or anything else.Your reaching out lightens my load. My load today is the weight of unknowing.

La Lucha Continúa

This is so tough. In addition to the grim issues facing us, just learning how to balance the required responses, with life, is hard. Life. Remember life before this takeover/election/inauguration? Remember spending time thinking about what to cook for dinner? -- how best to finish that quilt for a grandchild? Choosing the right paint color has lost some appeal these days.

A favorite guest letter from a little boy we taught to catch tarantulas.

Like most of us, I'm drowning in emails, calls and letters; trying my best to share the truly most important articles, petitions, and bits of information, helping to organize small, or attending large, community meetings. Granted, other than the finca, I'm retired, so I find days filling up, and overflowing, with it all -- and with no end in sight. This afternoon I'm listening to a national call from the ACLU, about forthcoming lawsuits. The other day, we listened to an Indivisible/Move-on/Working Families call with over 25,000 others. I have to say, it's encouraging to hear experienced professionals share very pragmatic strategies and tactics. Yesterday I wrote postcards with a group of women over coffee. All the while I'm wondering -- am I doing enough? Too much? Not enough? And you're likely wondering how does this have anything to do with the finca?It's interesting. Yesterday I was starting to spin out and bog down from it all. When do I get to get my glasses fixed? When do I stop feeling overwhelmed with dread ? Sitting at my computer, determined to get something done for myself, invariably, my fingers continued to click on links. Insidious news stories keep creeping up the right margin of my brain. I'm supposed to check on a technical glitch in our site, but, instead of the the next horrendous news item -- I press on our reviews.That's where you come in. Our guests. I spend the next half hour drenched in finca love, reading a handful of sweet notes from folks who'd stayed just this winter. A magic healing balm. To read about how much guests love the place always feels good, but I read more. I noticed people wrote about the shared main house kitchen, how they made friends with other guests, how they'd never done that before, and how the place lent itself to openness and sharing. And that felt more than good. Like we had done something that mattered. If we can do anything that helps brighten your stay, great. If the finca can change the way we work with, interact with new people, or travel more openly -- all the better.Now let's be clear, I'm not at the finca, right now. Scott and Bill T are at the helm, working their _______ (flip flops?) off this winter. Bill P and I have to be in the States for medical stuff, so I take no credit for being the consummate hosts that they are. Heartfelt thanks, and great reviews go out to them! We are up here, remotely trying to manage the final steps of the solar array, paying the bills, finding groups to lead workshops. It can feel pretty removed from the place. But suddenly, reading these kind words --  I am not only back there in the palms and sunshine, I'm part of a bigger effort that is built on love. Love of people -- all people, of the planet, of honesty, of creative self-expression, of community. And it's in Puerto Rico, a place, at least comparatively, missing racism, anger or pretension; a place of love and tolerance, where warmth seems to come as much from my neighbors as it does that strong sun. A place that has taught me so much, like looking every person you walk by, in the eye, with a "hello" -- at the very least. The place we'd be if only we could. Thanks to this crazy online world, and the folks who take time to share their sweet memories and good wishes,  I get to share in the love vicariously.  And that helps me find the balance I need. Who knew? Who would have guessed that a hotel review can be one more way of sharing the love? Like saying "buen día" to everyone you pass by, ride the elevator with, or share the main house kitchen with. Who would've known that just being kind -- in the littlest ways -- could matter so much?"La lucha continua", as they say on Vieques,  -- the cause, the struggle lives on. Sprinkling kindness into the mix sure helps. (( My Tropical Journal is my not-so-regular blog — on lafinca.com. la finca vieques, the oldest, maybe only, dedicated eco-resort on the island of Vieques, Puerto Rico. We’re a cluster of five handmade houses and a sweeping rustic villa for groups, families friends, romantic getaway offering a more community alternative to mainstream inns or the separateness of airbnb online rentals. No-chemical pool, three acres of natural landscaping & fruit trees (we love to share!) and a score of hammocks…and you have the coolest place on the coolest island. #caribbean eco resort, #back packer hotel, #eco travel, and #off the beaten path to boot! Learn how to escape. The magic of la finca vieques eco resort.#green travel, #group travel #gay friendly, #family friendly #slow travel… giving all inclusive a whole new meaning! ))