Tibes, a Stop on the Road

The drive to San Juan from Ponce—really, from just about anywhere to just about anywhere in PR—is a couple of hours. I had very much wanted to visit the Centro Ceremonial Indígena de Tibes. This archeological site is one of the few in the Caribbean which contains evidence of Taíno, Igneris, and other pre-Taíno cultures. We decided to go there, then drive through the central mountains to San Juan.

Nothing in PR seems to be on the beaten track. It was not easy finding Tibes, but when we did, it was immensely worth it. A wonderful small museum, complete with one of the 168 skeletons found buried on the site, and the only one removed. Curled into a fetal position (apparently in expectation of rebirth) and still embedded in the soil, it made a startling and sad exhibit. When we had toured the museum, we were taken to watch a film about the dig. Then we waited for our guide.

Unaccompanied entry into the site is strictly prohibited. Our guide Salvatore Mas eventually appeared; on his shaven head he wore a leather yarmulke. I was dying to ask how he kept it on…but I never had the guts.

We were joined by a young man who spoke fluent Spanish but chose to be in the less crowded inglese group. We later learned he was a Mayan archaeologist, originally from Mexico, studying at Waterloo. Led by Sal, we crossed over a gated bridge and he began the tour by introducing us to a number of native trees that provide all manner of food and useful by-products. One particularly fascinating tree sprouts round gourds out the side of its branches. These the Indians would cut in half, clean out and dry, to make sturdy, lightweight bowls.

A gourd tree at Tibes

In the midst of this botanical exegesis, a horde of puertorriqueños came pouring over the bridge and started wandering about, with no guide at all. Sal became very agitated. “Someone’s going to get in trouble,” he said. He trotted back to the main building to find the group an escort. They didn’t seem to understand why he wasn’t good enough. We visited a replica village of the palm frond huts of the Indians, followed by this horde. Sal looked on the verge of explosion. Shortly after, however, we linked up with a small Spanish tour, and Sal dumped his unwanted party on that guide.

Palm frond hut

Then we proceeded to the bateyes or ball courts where a ceremonial ball game had been played and beneath which, the dead were buried. In the largest bateye, in the exact centre, was a stone. It marked the burial place of the chief’s son.

One of the bateyes

Carved into some of the stones around the edges of these ball courts were petroglyphs, including one of a bat, the messenger of death.

Petroglyph

On the farthest part of the site was an enormous compass, with stones laid into the soil to form triangles indicating the cardinal points and 30-degree intervals. Pretty sophisticated stuff.

Ancient compass

At this point, Sal bade us adíos and said with a grin, “Listen to the Jew. Hang on to your money.”