An elusive lizard (not seen since 1974) hides in a unique mountain ‘boulder’ forest, a couple of abandoned US tanks lie rusting on a paradisiacal beach, a sign on a shop door in the ‘capital’ Dewey reads ‘Open some days, closed others.’ Welcome to Culebra – the island that time forgot; mainland Puerto Rico’s weird, wonderful and distinctly wacky smaller cousin that lies glistening like a bejeweled Eden to the east.
Long feted for its diamond dust beaches and world-class diving reefs, sleepy Culebra is probably more famous for what it hasn’t got than for what it actually possesses. There are no big hotels here, no golf courses, no casinos, no fast-food chains, no rush-hour traffic, no postmodern stress and no problemas, amigo. Situated 17 miles to the east of mainland Puerto Rico, but inhabiting an entirely different planet culturally speaking, the island’s peculiar brand of off-beat charm can sometimes take a bit of getting used to. Don’t expect open-armed cordiality here. Culebran friendliness is of the more backwards-coming-forwards variety. Home to rat-race dropouts, earnest idealists, solitude seekers, myriad eccentrics, and anyone else who can’t quite get their heads around the manic intricacies of modern life, the island is the ultimate ‘riddle wrapped up in a mystery inside an enigma.’ Among the traveling fraternity, it has long inspired a religiouslike devotion in some, and head-scratching bafflement in others. There’s but one binding thread – the place is jaw-droppingly beautiful.
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