(Originally written October 2019)
I woke before my alarm at 3:40am. I had finished packing the night before, and laid out my airport outfit – a black bodycon tank dress, magenta Puma slip-on sneakers, and a denim jacket. I applied a Bordeaux-colored lip stain to spruce up my bare face, and poured a cup of coffee for a friend who graciously agreed to drop me off (saved on parking fees or an Uber!). Traveling was fast and smooth that day, and I arrived at the Luis Muñoz Marín Airport 40 minutes earlier than expected!
Roundtrip tickets from Pennsylvania cost me $310.40 on Southwest – because, 2 “free” checked bags…
I had read that the line for taxis could get pretty long and that Ubers couldn’t go into the airport, so for comfort and convenience, I had ordered a car the night before, to pick me up – the booking process was a breeze. I used Puerto Rico Green Transportation. I was tempted to book the Porsche Panamera – because, why not live my best life (haha)! However, I decided on their Lincoln Navigator (which had dropped in price since my initial browse!). My top choice would’ve been their blacked-out Escalade ESV Platinum, but at $30 more, I decided to reign in my excited emotions and make sounder decisions. Getting a car, period, was enough.
Typically, the car reservation was $79 but I got a “low-season discount” and it came out to $59.26 total.
Promptly as my plane landed – like, literally still taxiing, I got a call and then a text from my driver, *Javier, letting me know he was here and would meet me by baggage claim. As I made my way through the small airport and down the escalator, I saw a line of about 5 people, holding signs. I scanned the signs and saw one with my name on it. “Javier?” I asked, approaching with a smile.
My two bags were some of the first that came down the luggage conveyor belt. “That was easy,” Javier commented. He took my bags and led me outside; and much to my delight, he led me over to the company’s Escalade my little heart had desired (haha). As I settled into the plush captain’s chair, Javier connected my iPhone and we set out to Old San Juan to the tunes from Sir’s new album. He pointed out some sites along the way and maneuvered through OSJ’s tiny streets with ease. “Can you make it down there? I can walk from here,” I offered as he turned onto my street. It took a 7-point turn but sure enough, he took me all the way to my door step.
It had started sprinkling as soon as we left the airport, but after the 20-minute drive, it was sunny and warm – my glasses fogged up as soon as I stepped outside. I had decided to try Airbnb for the first time, and had booked an entire apartment to myself. It was so lovely! I set my bags down and explored. There were several bookcases, filled with the likes of Borderlands, The New Jim Crow, The Feminist Porn Book, The Warmth of Other Suns, and books of poetry. There was art everywhere! Scented candles and incense decorated every table – I searched for and found a lighter in the kitchen. Affirmations were posted on the fridge… the vibe of the space really resonated with me – Excellent choice!
I settled in a little after 1pm, and was hungry! I was on the phone with my best friend as he and I both browsed menus and reviews for nearby restaurants. After searching for nearly 30 minutes, I decided to get up and just walk around – I’d passed a bunch of eateries on the way to the apartment. I put in my earbuds and kept my friend on the line as I went outside – he laughed at me because he knew I was nervous. “You need to be staying mindful of your surroundings, but I’ll stay on with you,” he said. At some point, I walked past Deaverdura, a place my host had recommended for mofongo. Mofongo is a signature Puerto Rican dish of, essentially, mashed plantains. From what I understand, West African slaves had introduced fufu to the island, and it was adapted by the Tainos, using the foods on the island and accommodating their taste preferences.
“I’ll talk to you later; I’m okay,” I told my friend as I turned around and headed into Deaverdura. There was an L-shaped bar at the back of the room. Jovial locals sat around laughing and toasting, drinks flowing. A woman and her daughter occupied one of the tables. A cheery, raven-haired woman came from around the bar. “Just one, can I sit anywhere?” “Please, please,” she ushered me. “You are very beautiful, are you a model?” I chuckled no. “Tu cabello es bonita,” she exclaimed, motioning her hands around her head as if to fluff curls. “Thank you.” I chose a table in the middle of the room, sitting where I could enjoy the revelers, and take a peek outside at the street’s wanderers. I felt peace and happiness. Amidst her thick accent, the hostess explained that she didn’t speak much English, but I explained, through laughter, that I know just enough Spanish for us to make it work together.
She treated me to a drink of fresh passionfruit… “con rum!” of course. I had two over the course of the hour or so I was there. A third was offered, but I graciously declined.
I asked about mofongo – I hadn’t seen it on the colorful, chalkboard menu that was leaning against a wall. She told me it wasn’t one of the main dishes that they were cooking that day, but she would make me some if that’s what I wanted. Bless her heart! I ordered the skirt steak… with a side of mofongo. “Muchas gracia– ” I had noticed she had been dropping the “s” at the end of words, like the Spanish spoken in the Dominican Republic.
A man at the bar – he looked in his sixties; silver hair, mid-height but a little portly, in a tailored deep blue suit; I pegged him for the owner, the energetic woman/hostess his wife. We had exchanged several smiles – I’d catch his eyes already locked with mine whenever my gaze wandered around the room. He lifted his glass to toast and I smiled in gratefulness.
The food was absolutely delicious!
The steak was so tender and juicy, and the mofongo was definitely filling. I took my time eating. “House sauce, hot sauce, cilantro. This,” she said, highlighting the cilantro sauce, “for the steak.” “Wonderful, thank you.”
A man I had noticed in the kitchen, noticing me, came over to my table. “Is everything good for you?” he asked. “Yes, it’s so good. Are you the chef?” “Yes, *Cruz,” he said, “I’m glad you like it.” I reached out my hand to shake his.
He was about 6’3, bronzed skin and dark eyes; maybe 35-37 years old. Solid build – his toned biceps flashed from beneath his crisp, white tee. A white smile glimmered in between our sentences. I counted three pieces of body art on his arms – two scenic depictions and a name.
We began chatting and at some point, he took a seat across from me.
“Can I take you to a beach? We can watch the sunset; it’s very beautiful.”
“That sounds awesome. No promises, though. I’m pretty tired, so I might go to sleep soon.”
He and I exchanged numbers. The woman handed me a little notebook and asked me to write a note. It was a brown leather book with little notes from people who had visited the restaurant. I wrote a little paragraph, signed it, gave her a hug, and went on about my evening.
With the tip, I paid around $30/$35 for this meal and drinks.
I found my way through a plaza and spotted a sign that read “The Poet’s Passage.” Yes!
It is a spaced owned by Lady Lee Andrews, a local author. It was so cozy – Moorish chandeliers, poems and affirmations on all of the merchandise. I started speaking with the young woman at the cash register. She told me about the open mic nights on Tuesdays (I was bummed that I’d miss it, but it gave me a reason to come back), and about the artists featured throughout the gift shop. I asked her about a magnet I’d seen that said Calle de la Resistancia. “Wait, is that a real street?!” “Haha, no…” She went on to explain about the recent protests against Governor Rosselló and her experience on the frontlines of the uprising. An artist had written that slogan on a wall, and the magnet was a collaboration with the originator to capitalize on the phrase and cement that moment. I bought one. I walked by the umbrellas on Calle Fortaleza. I wandered up and down the hills of Viejo San Juan until an art gallery on Calle del Santo Cristo caught my attention.
Galería Éxodo. It was an absolutely stunning space filled with African, Caribbean, and Taino folk art. Life goals would have been being able to purchase a piece, but my favorite ones where upwards of $3,000. However, I still enjoyed the intricacy of the work, and celebration of Black and brown culture and women. I was overwhelmed with the beauty held within the gallery. I wandered up stone steps – Taino clay figurines lining the floor – and onto the second floor with an open courtyard, complete with a water feature.
As the sun started to set, I made my way up the hills until I found my street and headed home. It soon started to rain, as I got inside; and I cozied up on the covered, back balcony and just listened to the water falling. I took my shower, ate an ice cream sandwich that was left in the freezer, and made my way into bed. I had to cancel on Cruz because my sleep was more important at the moment. Just then, I got a message that the coffee plantation and waterfall tour that I had booked for the next day was cancelled due to weather concerns. I had a quick moment of panic as I tried to figure out what I was going to do all day tomorrow, but then I realized I could do anything, and started browsing available Airbnb Experiences.
I found one called “Hidden Waterfalls and Natural Pools” that went into El Yunque Rainforest – a place I hadn’t put on my original itinerary, but kind of really wanted to visit. I messaged the host and asked if he was still running his tour tomorrow, even with the probability of rainy weather. He replied within 30 mins letting me know he was still doing a tour and had several other spots on the island we could go to as well. I wanted to avoid paying an Uber to take me to the listed meeting spot so I asked if he could pick me up; he agreed and I booked the tour.
As I began to drift off to sleep, I remember thinking, “I’m really here. I did it. I’m doing it. This is wonderful. Let’s gooooo! Thank you!”
*Name has been changed