From Study to Reflection, Part 2: Back in La Isla del Encanto
Fourteen years had passed since I last set foot on the island. I finally made it back—now a working woman in my mid-30s with disposable income, married, and bringing my 20-year-old sister Nina to the island, close in age to when I first experienced Puerto Rico. This time I also arrived as a guardian, wanting to ensure my sister’s wellbeing while also feeling like a type of guide, even though I had been out of PR for a long time. We would be there for Fiestas de la Calle de San Sebastián (SanSe), a dream of mine ever since I left.
Bad Bunny’s new album DeBÍ TiRAR MáS FOToS was released a week before we arrived. As many have written, it’s both a love letter to PR, and a protest album, with commentary on the political and economic status of PR. The album is beautiful and bold, and hit me hard emotionally as I had been out of touch with some of the recent happenings in PR. Before this trip I wondered if this album is a reflection of the archipelago’s current spirit - Would I be part of the problem by visiting PR, especially with this heightened tension?
I spiralled for a bit, but decided that we would try to be decent tourists: We would spend money at small locally owned businesses, we would never leave a mess anywhere, and most importantly, we show up to learn, listen, appreciate, and respect.
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This would be our first trip together and Nina’s first trip to Puerto Rico. I am 14 years older than her and because of this, and a few years of a challenging relationship with my parents, I hadn’t been able to spend a ton of time with her. This trip to Puerto Rico wouldn’t make up for lost time but it would allow for the creation of new experiences and memories in a special place, marking a foundation for us to work towards the adult relationship we want. My goal was to embrace and appreciate these moments with her.
Arriving in San Juan
My sister and I had been traveling all day. And in true mid-30s fashion, my back hurt. I couldn’t tell what time it was in my body, only whether I was hungry or not. Travel has a way of feeling long and short at the same time; the disorientation softened by excitement of finally arriving.
Our flight was full of people speaking Spanish. Over the salsa rhythm of Baile INoLVIDABLE I heard the pilot say something in Spanish, and suddenly everyone burst out in applause. My Nina looked at me confused.
“What did he say? Why are people clapping? This has never happened on a flight before!”
We quickly exited the airplane, feeling the humidity and sea breeze intensify as we made it to the exit doors.
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As I stepped out of the airport and the warm humidity hugged my body, a mix of anticipation and excitement arose. The anticipation was for the entire trip, but also because of my decision to rent a car - last time I was here I would not have dreamed of driving around. That lack of comfort with driving still exists, but we had adventures to catch.
After picking up the car, we bounced over potholes during the short drive to Carolina, found our Airbnb, tossed our bags inside, freshened up, and rushed out for a beach walk and late-night snack along Avenida Isla Verde.
Once at the shore I kicked off my sandals and rushed down to the shore, feeling the powdery, cool sand between my toes. There’s something eerie about the beach at night; it makes me shiver. The darkness is vast, the ocean and sky blending into one. It’s the darkness and silence of wondering what is going on below the surface of this large body.
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Day 1 - Quesitos & Kayaks
Waking up felt surreal—was I really here? Out back tall, glossy, leafy green trees waves, bunches of green plantains clinging to the stalks. We took a morning walk to Panaderia Espana, passing a house with a dozen little cats eating out of colorful dishes of various sizes and shapes. Old furniture, baby dolls with matted hair, and stuffed animals littered the yard. An older couple waved hello to us as we walked along the road. DeBÍ TiRAR MáS FOToS bumped from cars as we walked the sidewalk.
“Buen día,” the light-skinned man behind the counter said with a whistle. Whew here we go, “Buen día… eh… dos quesitos y dos café con leche y jamón y queso… gracias.” I was fighting with my brain and tongue to say the right thing. My high school Spanish was so rusty. Three minutes later, the quesitos arrived, plump, shiny and slightly warm. The coffee cut through the jet lag and exhaustion.
Later that day we went for a drive through Viejo San Juan. Cruising down Ave Luis Muñoz Rivera, sandwiched between 200 year old pastel homes and the ocean. Nina stuck her head out of the window, admiring the city contours. I could tell she wanted to hop out of the car and investigate on foot, even as big raindrops started to fall around us.
That evening we headed to Fajardo for a kayak trip to the bioluminescent bay. Maneuvering through the pitch black mangrove tunnels was tough since our Kayak technique was a little chaotic - not quite aligned on how to move forward nor turning fast enough around each corner. At least we didn't capsize like some in our group did.
We manuvered through the stalky trees and were greeted by the bright recently full moon, illuminating the entire bay. It was so bright that it was hard to see the glow of the dinoflagellates, but they warned us that the glow was’t that bright. I scooped up a handful of water and watched the glitter leave my hands. Nina stayed pretty quiet, still frustrated from the crash course in kayaking, but I could tell she was excited by the natural glitter we were surrounded by.
We drove home in silence, moonlit roads guiding us back to Carolina, exhausted, and slightly damp. The sonic hybrids in DeBÍ TiRAR MáS FOToS carried us back over the hills and small roads to Carolina.
Day 2 – El Yunque & SanSe
It was 9am and we were back on the road to El Yunque, the only tropical rainforest in the U.S. National Forest System. The potholes bounce us around, making me upset thinking about the island’s crumbling roads and infrastructure in the context of wealthy US American colonization.
Tú ere' un boquete en PR, por eso es que te esquivo
We stopped along the way at Degree 18 Juice Bar in Palmer for acai bowls made from ingredients from local farms. Seems simple but given PR’s history of economic and political domination, this is a small slice of resistance.
Reaching El Yunque requires a decident uphill drive through narrow paved roads. Climbing higher and higher, the clouds enveloped the road and temperature dropped. The scenery shifted to endless shades of green. We stopped to admire giant prehistoric-looking leaves and bursts of colorful orchids. Mango and raspberry colored birds sang. The insect chorus crescendoed.
Trails tempted us off the path, and we gave in, plunging into one lesser-known route that rewarded us only with more forest, mudd, and a few large spiders - no big waterfalls like some of the other trails promised. Parched and starving after our adventure, we drove back down the hill and toppled down at a patio back in Palmer with cold beer and hot empanadas. We decided to skip Luquillo since we were running low on time, even though the thought of the turquoise blue and green pallet wells and food trucks tempted us. We needed to get back to Carolina to change for our sunset cruise in San Juan Bay.
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Once at the harbor for the cruise, we hopped on the small boat with about 15 other mainland Americans and three Pureto Rican crew members. On the boat were a couple groups of Black women celebrating birthdays, a few couples, and one very sunburnt, loud American tourist manspreading on the bench next to me. His wife was doing a great job of pretending that he did not exist, gulping down Sangria from a pouch and staring out into the bay. The pilot pointed out the impressive yachts of rich and famous CEOs docked in the Bay. The loud tourist chugged his beer, then screamed and clapped in approval when we passed Jeff Besos’ giant yacht. Barf.
Mary J. Blige’s Family Affair swelled and the boat rocked us.
“I think I feel this drink,” my sister said with about a third of the drink gone. Such a low tolerance, I chuckled, proud of her for not being an idiot that chugged anything like I did when I was 20. As 'Suavemente' comes on, the speakers turn up and so does the vibe.
My sister and I zoned out, feeling the Caribbean breeze rush past our face, as we took in Old San Juan’s sturdy walls. Seeing El Morro from the bay—golden in the fading light—was magical. The captain took pictures of us, coaching us to sit on the rail and look out in the distance. He had a vision for us and did not disappoint. I will be glad to look at these one day as I reminisce about our first ever sister trip.
—
We went to SanSe for the first time that night. We took a Uber from the Marina to Viejo San Juan and had to be dropped off miles from the heart of the festival. We walked for what seemed like forever to the fest, legs fatigued by that wild rainforest hike. I was wearing my favorite shoes - red kitten heels complete with a blooming flower on the top. Not ideal footwear for cobblestone streets.
We hit a confident stride as electric scooters zipped by, and women in bright ruffles and men in pastel guayaberas danced ahead. We both agreed that we would ride the scooters next time.
We knew we made it when we heard the crisp edge of the congas, then the horns. SanSe marks the end of the Christmas and holiday season in Puerto Rico, so Christmas decor is everywhere - lit up Christmas trees, colorful Feliz Felicidades banners, bells, and giant wreaths, lit up in doorways everywhere.
We came into a sea of Black and brown people singing, dancing, drinking and eating. Beautiful women in blue dresses on stilts, and masked vejigante dancers, with their colorful masks and exaggerated features and sharp, unruly horns. My sister looked down at my feet with concern, “Are you ok? You’re limping!” Yeah, it was starting to get uncomfortable, but my excitement overshadowed the numbness my toes were starting to feel.
That excitement was the only thing fueling me at that moment. We had walked, hiked, and climbed eight miles that day. Hungry and tired, we found a small Spanish tapas restaurant. The bar was quiet except for a white transplant reminding us to tip our bartenders.
Eventually, we snagged a small table outside, our table and chairs both unstable from resting on the cobblestones. Two mojitos and a glass of white wine sat on the table as we devoured our seafood paella. Not the best paella I've had but pretty damn good. Nina’s first. We decided to return to SanSe the next day—rested and together.
We went back the way we came. Exhausted, I fell into bed and I slept like a corpse.
Day 3- Slow Beach Day & Ocean Baptism
“Let’s grab that spot down there,” Nina said, pointing to a shaded patch on the white sand.
We put our towels down, weighing them down with a box of quesitos and my birkenstocks. I couldn’t wait to both sip coffee and submerge myself in the ocean. I actually wished I could do both at the same time!
The waves lapped at our feet and before I knew it I threw my body in the 70 degree water. The salty water burned my eyes. I could stay in the Ocean bobbing about for hours; it feels like a cleansing or some sort of baptism that signifies my commitment to mother earth.
A large curious bright green Iguana popped out of the bushes and checked out our set up, including our box of pastries. “Nina, look!!” Cracking up as I lay back into a wave while the iguana’s head bobbed about. Nina’s goal was to see a big iguana but unfortunately it quickly scurried as she turned around in excitement. She caught the last little bits of its tail before it disappeared into the shadows. We made our way back to our towels and sat down.
My ocean baptism cleared my head for the conversation that emerged over our Café con leche: reflecting on all we’d missed over the years, and connecting through our shared observations of family. There’s a unique power in the affirmation that only a sibling, deeply rooted in the same family context, can give.
We agree to prioritize this relationship and appreciate the time we get to spend together.
This trip was partially about confronting my regret over what time that had passed —especially not being more present as my sister was growing up. It wasn’t just about travel; it was about witnessing each other and capturing moments together in this enchanted place.
Debí tirar más fotos de cuando te tuve
Debí darte más besos y abrazo' las veces que pude
I was determined to keep snapping photos for the rest of the trip, even if they turned out terrible.
P.S. The film roll I took to PR didn't develop properly because I did not load the film correctly. At least I had my phone.