Above: Arecibo (CJ Photo)
By Alexander Britell
ARECIBO — The town square is empty.
It’s a half a block from the town square here in Arecibo, the “Diamond of the North” of the island of Puerto Rico, an old town set on the sea on the northern coast.
This is the kind of cafe that pulls you in, the silence and the clack of glasses drawing you close, except when the Miles Davis fires up and the blue arrives.
Here at La Buena Vida, things are simple; the rum comes in a white glass; the menu is short: the top half, bread-based tapas; the bottom half, pastas.
It’s a street of small but grand buildings, of old townsfolk wandering the corners, of the rhythmic tap of joggers running the perimeter.
We have stopped here on the road to Rincon, miles ahead, but hunger hit and the highway pointed us here, past the Subway and the barbecue joint toward the square.
And we found this street with the tapas and the rum, and a town paused, still at 4:30 in the afternoon.
Is there a siesta here? Or was there one, years ago, that never ended?
For a moment, this is my street. And this is my cafe.
And this is my secret corner of the Caribbean.
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