Sing Along

We were back at our Esperanza mooring on Friday morning. We spent a lazy day doing nothing much of anything. WW determined that the propane leak was in the gauge. He now turns the propane on only when we need it.

We snorkelled around the shore side of the little island, watching corals doing their thing and fish darting about; swimming through clouds of little glittering golden fishies. WW saw a grouper and a turtle. Hawksbill turtles come to Vieques to breed and lay their eggs (their protection is another VCHT mission). I saw a grunt catch a small crab and bash it to death on the rocks and coral.

That evening, we headed in to Esperanza for a burger at Bananas before our night of song. At the dinghy dock, we were met by Davy and a man he introduced as “my brother Keith”. We talked with Keith, a very nice guy originally from Michigan, as we made our way along the strip. He headed off to sit at the stall where he and his girlfriend Consuela sell candles covered in Vieques beach glass. We went across the street for our dinner.

A truck arrived with a drum set. Davy said one of the cymbals was worth a thousand dollars. The owner of the drum set Martín drove away. Davy attempted to put the set together. Later, Martín returned and corrected the set up. A kid played on Keith’s guitar. Then he played the drums. Things were slow starting. Davy went down the street to get another guitar for WW. We had another beer. Consuela and I chatted; she told me about her plans to make beach glass and shell jewelry. WW played a small, skin-covered wooden drum along with the kid drumming. Various people came and played the drums with more or less aptitude. One skinny little fellow who looked about 12 (he is, in fact, 21) was outstanding. An assortment of items to be rattled, shaken, beaten, or thumped appeared. WW and Keith got guitars. The one Davy brought was pretty terrible. We played and sang some Dylan, The Band, folk songs, Trailer for Sale or Rent, whatever…then it was back to drumming. Martín, rather the worse for drink, was enticed to play his drums. An electric bass guitar and amplifier had put in an appearance. Then there was no electricity because the woman with the extension cord was leaving. So Davy borrowed it from her before she could get away. Consuela was looking put out because Davy was making her and Keith drive the drum set home, “…and they won’t stop till after midnight,” she said. Consuela told me Martín is a very good jazz drummer but has a wee problem with the drink and loses his touch when under the influence. He played very briefly and very well, then left. Soon after, I pried WW off his current drum and we set off for Django. It had been a great deal of fun.