Living the 12 Days of Christmas

I wrote this as a potential travel article, so excuse the slightly different style...

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It all started with a stout man in a battered red truck festooned with Christmas garlands. His white whiskers stood out in stark relief against his ebony skin, and I unhesitatingly climbed in for the ride he was offering me. A three mile hike through the Caribbean heat was the only way to get to an internet connection, so a ride with St. Nick's cousin was a welcome respite.

"Were you decorated for Christmas?" I asked, hoping he spoke English.

"Si... but more for Three Kings Day," he replied with a thick accent. "And the New Year's party," he added.

We had arrived on the tiny Spanish Virgin Island of Culebra in mid-December, so we had been here long enough to learn that for Spanish communities, Three Kings Day on the sixth of January rivals Christmas in importance. In true Hispanic fashion, Christmas is only the kick-off to festivities leading up to the day the Magi presented their gifts to the Baby Jesus. But this was the first I had heard of a New Year's fiesta.

"The whole town has a party," he added. "At the ferry docks. We've been doing it for a dozen years -- every year it gets bigger. You should come with the ninjos... just bring some chairs and something to eat. Then celebrate, you know; salsa, merengue," he said with a deep rumbling laugh.

And so I found myself, at midnight on New Year's Eve, doing that which may have been impossible in any other setting: dancing the merengue with the enthusiastic partnering of my thirteen-year-old son. Beside us, my younger son and daughter were bopping energetically with my husband. Our small family circle was a tiny island in the sea of gyrating and swirling bodies all around us as the live band belted out pulsating Latin rhythms, and the fireworks burst in a glory of colour and noise overhead.

Ironically, Culebra is a sleepy little place; not somewhere to head for those hankering for a bustling social life. Dewey, the only town, consists of three or four haphazard streets, and an eclectic variety of shops. Days can go by when there is virtually no bread to be bought on the island; fruit and vegetables arrive from mainland Puerto Rico on a Wednesday... unless they decide on a different day that week. The general attitude to life is best described in the opening hours posted on a travelling food cart: "Closed Monday and Tuesdays -- and when I feel like it!".

Locals have bitterly opposed resort development and been largely successful. Although there are a couple of places like Costa Bonita and Club Seabourne where higher-end accommodation is possible, the flavour of the island is not conducive to five-star living. Most tourists who stay on the island use simple self-catering rooms or villas, like the pastel-painted Mamacitas in the centre of town .

The ferry arrives daily from Fajardo, Puerto Rico, spilling out a colourful collection of bikini-laden tourists, who tumble straight into the waiting 'taxis' and bump their way across the island to Playa Flamenco -- a long and sparkling white sandy beach which has been spared commercial development and is still like a little slice of paradise. After a day splashing in the turquoise waters, many tourists shower off the salt and sand and head back to the ferry and the attractions of the mainland.

Unless it is New Year's Eve. There were no posters up to advertise the event; no one at the Tourist Information Booth on the beach mentioned a New Year's party, but through the Puerto Rican grapevine the word has spread, and bringing in the New Year in Culebra has become an event unrivalled by glitzier parties in the world's big cities. It's not like it was organized -- all the islanders provided was eight-hours of live Latino music, but their generosity of spirit softens the most cynical, and after an hour or two, everyone, young and old, Puerto Rican or tourist, was grooving to the beat.

"The thing about a party here is that it safe," my Santa-friend told me as he negotiated the old red truck around bone-jarring pot-holes. "Nobody's drinking too much, or doing the drugs like in the big cities -- they're just dancing and having a good time. Living the easy life," and he laughed again.

For those of us after easy living, Culebra-style, the ultimate accommodation is in a tent or hammock in the shady glades ringing the sands of Playa Flamenco. Facilities at the campground are primitive, to say the least, but to wake up and step onto the warm sand of the beach as the sun kisses the sea good morning is worth a cold shower. Our neighbours in the campground are returning snowbirds who come every year with their tents and snorkels and stay for months, or families from the mainland -- and everyone is happy to be here.

"I keep the decorations on for Three Kings Day," my friend tells me as we approach the town. "We have another little party on the sixth; give out presents to the kids, you know. Like the Kings gave to Jesus."

My own kids are clamouring to fall in with the local tradition, so on the night on January 5th we will be setting out a box full of grass for the camels, in hopes that the Kings will return our generosity by leaving the box full of candies and small gifts.

But few gifts can rival those this beautiful island has already lavished upon us: beautiful clear waters with colourful reefs and hundreds of fish, and friendly people out to welcome us to their celebrations and way of life.

"So how long have you lived in Culebra?" I ask curiously as the truck slows to a stop.

The Father-Christmas figure laughs again. "All my life. I tried other places, other islands... but no where else do they understand how to live like this. Felicidades."