I found this poem in the colony that an artist wrote, it describes this retreat.
Ciudad Colón. May 2008
In Ciudad Colón there is a place, perched on a hill of verdant green
Mango, banana vie for space with lemon, lime and bean.
Pass through wrought-iron Colony gates, family and friends all disappear
Cometh the time, the hour is nigh, to spread our wings and fly.
Pintor, escritor gravitate, in casas, casitas hunker down
To chase the Muse and so alone
but wind that makes the bamboo groan.
Take it as a special gift, as we pursue our lonely quest
To have this place, to be alone, submit, oblit, repeat and hone.
Tropical plants unceasingly, give forth their fruit prodigiously
Hummingbirds sip, with unearthly
quiet where writers write.
Coconuts crowd high in the sky, as rain relentless passes by
Worker ants unceasing toil, cut pathways in the verdant soil.
Go now to another plain, heed not hunger, thirst or pain
Be thou creative with pen and brush,
waste not this time bestowed on us.
