to move up and down
El Cupolog
Pan-american Transmissions : The Road to Tierra Del Fuego
Waves on the shore/Worms in the floor
Belding Corticelli Building - Coaticook, Quebec
© Diego Cupolo 2011
Belding Corticelli
Somewhere in Coaticook (a town known for its ice cream) we drove by a large abandoned mill. The only sign on the building read “Belding Corticelli,” an old textile and thread company.
We explored the inside. The space was huge and bare. All the equipment was missing and someone had set fire to the first floor.
Coaticook, Quebec
© Diego Cupolo 2011
Day 32 – Part 2: So You Like History, Huh?
Pieces of roofing were still falling from the collapsed sugar mill so Federica and I explored smaller abandoned buildings around the perimeter. There were beautifully creepy offices and cafeterias, but it was getting dark and I didn’t want to stay there long with all the scrap metal scavengers.
They were looking my way a little too often.
I took a few long exposure shots of Federica walking around the interiors. She looked like a ghost, and they came out nice, but it was hard to be creative. I felt more and more nervous about being there.
We walked outside, I took a few more photos and then I heard a deep male voice yelling in a distance. I looked over and it was a big, pot-bellied fellow without a shirt on. He was walking towards me in an aggressive manner, swinging his thick arms and yelling words I couldn’t understand. (I never got the hang of Puerto Rican slang.)
I straightened my spine, opened up my chest and walked slowly towards him. I was trying to mimic Jack’s walk. He would always bob his head from side to side when he walked and it looked intimidating in a primal, dominant male kind of way – especially when he did it slowly.
I did the Jack walk and it came naturally. It had to. This guy, whoever he was, looked like he was sizing me up. I made sure to keep eye contact as he approached and stopped in front of me.
“So you like history, huh?” he said in Spanish, breathing heavy with a thick sweat over his face. His eyes were open wide and stared deep into my own.
“Yeah, places like this are very interesting to me. I came from New York to photograph your old industrial sites,” I said, holding my camera against my hip. I felt like a dork.
“Que Bueno, so you’re a photographer?” he asked.
“Yeah, I work for The New York Times, they sent me down here on a special project,” I said. I always lie about working for the Times.
“That’s good my friend, but you have to watch out around here, you could get jumped, you know, there’s a big complex of projects on the other side of that fence over there.”
I turned around to see where he was pointing and moved towards Federica. Just then, I saw the silhouette of a man inside the building next to us. I put my hand on Federica’s shoulder and pulled her as I walked backwards.
“It’s ok, we were leaving anyways, thanks for telling us though,” I said.
Federica and I walked quickly towards the entrance of the sugar mill. Most of the scrap metal scavengers had left and there were only a few teenagers hanging around, climbing things and breaking what was left to break.
We got to the car and drove away.
“That was close,” Federica said. “I thought that guy was going to rob your camera.”
“Me too,” I said. “That’s why I did the Jack walk.”
Soon after, it became dark and we had no place to go other than Federica’s mother’s house in Caguas. Oh boy. Federica called ahead this time and her mother said it was fine for me to stay the night.
When we got there, we had cereal. Milk tasted amazing after living a month without refrigeration.
In the end, I had scored another day with Federica. I was happy. She was happy. Life was good.
© Diego Cupolo 2011
Day 32: I leave the house, a storm approaches and a sugar mill collapses
I woke up itchy with bug bites. The sun was low in the sky and the beach looked strange in the light. My head hurt.
Federica stood up and stretched her arms up towards the palm trees. I got a toothbrush out of my backpack and we brushed our teeth in a water fountain near the bathroom. Early morning joggers passed by, but didn’t seem to notice us.
There was a cargo ferry leaving for Vieques at 9:30. Cargo ferries are like regular ferries, except that people can bring their cars on the boat. We drove over, bought two tickets, watched the beer and rum trucks load onto the ferry and then boarded.
I walked around the passenger area looking for Stefan. He said he was bringing his car to Vieques and he was probably on the same boat. I didn’t know what he looked like, but I knew he was a New Yorker and New Yorkers are easy to spot in the tropics. They’re the only people wearing black.
I saw two guys in black graphic T-shirts with sunglasses and I walked over. Sure enough, it was Stefan and his boyfriend. They were surprised to see me.
“I thought you were in Vieques,” Stefan said.
“Yeah, I was going to take eight o’clock ferry last night but I missed it by a minute, literally,” I said. “It was fine though, I slept on the beach.”
They looked at me from behind their bug-eye sunglasses and didn’t say anything.
“So yeah, do you have your car on the boat?” I asked.
“Yep, I guess we can drive up to the house together.”
“Sounds good to me, I’ll give you the grand tour and everything when we get up there.”
“Sure, yeah,” he said.
I’m gonna pass out for a bit, I’m still tired,” I said. “See you on the other side.”
I heard Stefan say “Wow” in snooty tone as I walked away.
We got to Vieques and drove up to the house. I gave Stefan and his boyfriend a rundown of the housesitting duties. I showed them how the solar panels worked and how to fill the water tank. I pointed out all the places where the roof leaked and all the plants that needed watering, but I got the feeling they didn’t really care. They just wanted me to hand over the keys and leave.
Instead, I took my time. I took one last shower, cooked one last pot of oatmeal and packed up my few belongings. Federica was sitting on the porch overlooking the valley, the mountains and the ocean in a distance and I sat down next to her. We sat quietly and watched the horses eat their way through the grass below. I wondered if Stefan would take good care of the house.
Just like that, it was over.
Federica and I hitched a ride back to Isabel. We had an hour before the next ferry so we went to the bar. The bartender, Suzie, saw me with my bags and asked if I was leaving.
“Unfortunately, my time is up in Vieques,” I said.
“Aww, already leaving us?” she said. “Well, your drinks are on me, what’ll ya have?”
“Really? How about whiskey? I’ve been drinking so many Medallas my stomach’s starting to rot.”
“Is Jameson alright?” she asked.
“Jameson is my favorite.”
She poured three shots and we drank them down together.
“Where ya flyin’ taw?” asked a woman at the corner of the bar. She had a graying buzz cut and biceps to match.
“New York.”
“Well, I don’t know if yer gunna make it, s’posed to be a big storm tawnight,” she said, pointing at the television above my head.
I looked up and watched a meteorologist point repeatedly at a green blob as it slithered over the entire northeastern section of the United States.
“Shit,” I said.
“You betta cawl yer airline and see if yer still flying today.”
I pulled out my laptop and checked the American Airlines web site.
Flight 1568: CANCELLED
That’s all it said. Cancelled in capital letters. There wasn’t a number to call or any indication that I was being put on another flight. Nothing.
“Ok, so now what? I’ve never had a flight get cancelled,” I said.
“I don’t know,” Federica said. “We should still get on the next ferry, I can’t leave my car in Fajardo.”
“Yeah, we can’t stay here anyways. I don’t have the house anymore. I guess we’ll figure it out when we get to Fajardo.”
“Woooo! We get to spend more time together.”
“This is true. Damn, I wish I could just stay here with you. I’d do it if I didn’t have to watch my friend’s dog. I don’t want to go back to New York and the cold and a fucking winter blizzard.”
“You have to watch someone’s dog?”
“Yeah, as soon as I get back I’m supposed to stay with this dog while my friend is in Madagascar. I agreed to it a long time ago. I hope the dog will be alright if I don’t get there tonight.”
We finished our beers, bid farewell to Suzie, the bar and the tropical paradise known as Vieques, and got on the ferry. When we got to Fajardo, we parked near a Burger King and I used their free wi-fi to book a flight for the next day. That was that.
Federica and I spent the rest of the afternoon exploring a collapsed sugar mill just outside the town. The roof of the structure caved in the day before and locals were walking around the site to gather scrap metal.
They asked us what we were doing there. I told them I was interested in history.
© Diego Cupolo 2011
Day 20: La Central Roig - The Sugar Mill
We continued through the darkest areas of the sugar mill. Sometimes the concrete floor collapsed beneath our feet, revieling a network of underground water passageways. Luckly, I was wearing sneakers. Jack was wearing flip-flops.
Small administrative offices surrounded the factory. We found the payroll department, the nurse’s office and even the chemistry lab where jars of chemicals lined the cabinets. Some jars were smashed and fluorescent powders covered the floor.
Inside one of the offices we found an old Polaroid camera. I kept it to bring home to my father who likes to collect vintage cameras.
© Diego Cupolo 2010
Day 20: La Central Roig - The Sugar Mill
We walked around the sugar mill for the entire afternoon. I was overwhelmed. There was too much rust to shoot in one day.
The machinery was impressive, the space, massive. I was simultaneously filled with joy and fear … the fear I wouldn’t be able to capture it all.
A thick sweat settled on my brow. I did what I could.
In the process, I found a few places Trent Reznor might want to consider for his next music video.
© Diego Cupolo 2010
Day 20: La Central Roig- The Sugar Mill
We drove to Humacao, stopped at a gas station, asked for directions and followed the index fingers till we saw smokestacks. There it was. La Central Roig.The rusty leftovers of what used to be a thriving sugar industry.
The entire complex spanned an area of at least six football fields. Jack and I walked in and never found an end. There was always more to see, more to explore.
© Diego Cupolo 2010
