IT'S NOT EVERY DAY that two beachcombers unexpectedly stumble across a cache of buried treasure, but that's just what happened to Miguel Mendez and Norman Rilling back in 1974. While strolling along the Dominican Republic's sandy southwestern coast near the town of Barahona, the Santo Domingo resident and US Peace Corps volunteer became intrigued by clusters of shiny blue pebbles scattered in the shallow Caribbean waters beneath their feet. The duo soon turned their attention to the mouth of the nearby Bahoruco River where the trail of stones led them upstream into the rugged, rain-forested interior.
A couple of days and several wrong turns later, they came upon the world's only known deposits of what would later be identified by Smithsonian geologists as a blue-colored incarnation of the common gray-white mineral, pectolite. Not long after, commercial open pit mining of the site was undertaken.
Today, more than 30 years later, this appealing semi-precious gemstone has gained international fame as "larimar" (a combination of Mendez' daughter's name, Larissa, and mar, the Spanish word for sea) and is considered to be one of the Dominican Republic's most coveted luxury exports, second only to amber in its appeal to local and foreign jewelry buyers.
Larimar also boasts its own small promotional showcase, the Larimar Museum, headquartered in a restored 17th-century building at the heart of Santo Domingo's colonial zone. Its second floor, reached by way of a mahogany staircase embellished with an extravagant larimar handrail, features a dozen well-designed exhibits recounting almost everything any visitor might want to know about this increasingly sought-after mineral.
A number of displays, for example, track larimar's fiery geological genesis of 100 million years ago when fierce volcanic eruptions crystallized blue pectolite and other minerals, forcing them into naturally occurring shafts within the earth's crust. To excavate these ancient deposits, miners must tunnel hundreds of feet into the spent volcano. Once extracted, the rough pieces are cut and graded according to color, patterning, and luminosity. All three factors play a role in determining a stone's value, but in general, the deepest "volcanic" blue hues are given highest marks.
The history of larimar's earliest human connections is sketchy, but it is believed that the Taino Indians, among the Dominican Republic's first inhabitants, were aware of the smooth-textured gemstones. No official mention of blue pectolite appears until 1916 when Barahona's parish priest applied for government permission to exploit the nearby mine. That request apparently fell through the cracks and with it, all memory of the valuable deposits. Still, the striking azure pebbles continued to catch the eye of local inhabitants.
With demand for the gemstone on the rise, larimar bracelets, rings, and necklaces can be seen in shops across the Dominican Republic, including the Larimar Museum, where the entire first floor is given over to eye-catching jewelry displays. This is not surprising given that the museum is owned by Ambar Nacional, a prominent producer of both larimar and Dominican amber. But unlike amber, which is found in abundance at several island sites, the big question mark in the larimar success story hinges on its long-term availability. To date, the Barahona deposit constitutes its one and only source and the extent of it has yet to be determined; theoretically speaking, supplies could be exhausted at any moment. "Yes," confesses guide Pierre Gustin, "it's a big question mark, all right. Then again, you can also consider it a part of larimar's cachet."
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