typical masks

te rasco la guinea!

never seen a street so packed, and the marching band!

calle estrecha de boricua y fiesta

titeres de sanse

cultura profetica en la perla

with sara la alemana in the beach

San Seb

La Festival de San Sebastian the weekend of the 16^th of January is a tapon packed sardine can of booze, drums, chants, and fried empanadillas. Everyone drinks in the street starting at 12:00pm to around 5am. I have never seen so many people in so little space, and I realized why Puerto rico is one of the most densely populated islands in the world.  Everyon is singing, dancing, and letting loose all of the stress that has built up over the last year. The food is amazing, and there are free concerts everywhere, in every plaza, from reggaeton to salsa, bachata, improvisation, and merengue. There is colorful Puerto Rican art ubiquitous in old san Juan, and I feel the heat of the islands sweep over me as I’m overloaded with a cultural experience. I feel the African and taino roots here. I went to church on Sunday, which lasted almost 2 hours, and was asked to carry the jesus procession to the other church along with 3 other men, similar to semana santa in spain. It was an enlightening experience, and I felt very culturally in tune walking up a steep cobblestone carrying a statue of jesus as everyone watched me. I sacrificed a little as jesus sacrificed for me 2000 years ago. I also met some new friends in the hostel from Germany, France, Chile, and Australia.  We went to the cultura profetica concert in la perla, which is a barrio outside of the city walls that is supposedly crime and drug ridden, but it has cultura feels like Colombia.  It was an amazingly fun reggae concert, and they quickly became my favorite band out of Puerto rico.

My first day back in San German turned out surprisingly well. I was about to check into the hotel that would have costed me 10 dollars at the residence but my newly found friend Joe offered me a place to stay, which seemed a little forward, but I was down to save 10 bucks and at least have someone to hang out with for the night. He and Emma, another NSE student, showed me around town and I am forever greatful for them making me comfortable my first day here. The accommodation came appreciated, and a couple of medullas(local beer) went well with a Martin’s colossal calzone, which is stuffed with peppers, onions, mushrooms, all types of meat, and purely everything you can imagine packed into a 9 dollar flash flood of flavor that heartily feeds too.  Joe and I also went to the bar in the neighborhood that the owner only opens up for his friends, and we enjoyed a great time with joe’s roommates and some old geezers that play dominoes way too well.

The following day I met all of my exchange buddies and Ricardo, our exchange supervisor, showed us around town and the campus.  It’s a grandote campus that yields winding roads and seems to be surrounded by dense jungle. The other exchange students seem really nice- Javier has a van and loves Dominican bachata, my roommate mitch comes from a big family too and speaks the California spirit on a carribbean beach, Ashley has done cool mission trips to Thailand, tess is the girl I try to make laugh, and gabrielle and Kirsten are completely fine drinking medallas and playing dominoes with us all night. I have met a lot of locals and friends thanks to Joe, and we have witnessed the greatness of boqueron’s beach, though I am told that there are way better ones in the area. Worthy of mention is Frede, Joe’s friend who plays futbol and loves to laugh.  Thankfully, he doesn’t have a blasting stereo system that’s worth more than his car, diamond earrings, curly wet spiky hair, a gold chain, and rims. That’s one of the things I find really funny about some of the people here.  They are blatantly trying to show off and I don’t see how the women here can be attracted to it. But, it’s a different culture and I respect it, and realize that these people may just be a product of what they see in reggaeton music videos and attempt to live that lifestyle.

Antigua, confusa

Ponce, west coast, and a minor incident

costa sJ

vista desde el tejado

la carpa dorada

coastline towards SJ

arecibo from outside

karst

rincon beach

ponce beach under moonlight

ponce historical district

Jan 13

Last night I drove from ponce to san german and stayed in some neighborhood next to the university. The following morning I had plans to scanter my way to Rincon, Arecibo, and the cuevas de camuy, but even with an early start it turned out to be the only bad day on my trip so far. The bad days, work in mysteriously good ways in that they make the good days that much better. If you didn’t understand that, it’s ok.  Ni modo. I drove to Rincon, the California of PR, and I would like to say it was a nice place.You could still see the local Boricua shops and fruit stands, which made me happy that their culture hadn’t been drowned out by American tourism quite yet. It seemed, though there many Americans living here, that they just absorbed into puertorican culture rather than changing the culture of this place. It was pleasant and the beach was nice. Next I drove my way over to browse some surf spots and small local beach towns I stopped in some random one, parked my car, and someone hit me. I was in a rental car with no insurance, so I was to pay for the damages. It seems everytime you get insurance you never have an accident, but when you don’t, luck can run out. It was my last day driving, and this had to happen. Like a flash flood of despair, I felt the stress and anxiety flow through my body, but after 30 minutes things settled down, and I had to think. First I tried hiding the scratches with mud, but that proved pointless to a carwash, until I remembered I could get damage insurance anytime, but they had to inspect the car. Feeling less than ballsy after already taking a big risk and losing, I ultimately decided to be honest and fess up, paying for the damages.  But this took an insane amount of thinking in my exhausted brain.  I didn’t want this new element in the mix to ruin my day any further, so I worked up the courage to go to the cuevas of camuy. However, mayhem continued as the caves and the Arecibo observatory were closed. Through all the stress that day, I look back and still find some good-hey, I know what it’s like to deal with traffic, never get anything done, and get my rental car dinged up. At least by not seeing Arecibo or the cuevas it gives me a reason to come back. That night I had a beer at a local beach bar and drove to the new Wal-mart and passed out.

The following day I returned to san juan and isla verde beach where I ran the beach with some local baseball players and did some pushups. After I was ready to tell the rental company the news at around 12pm. When they inspected the car they didn’t even see the damage, so I had to tell them, which makes me think I could have passed the inspection for the damage insurance and then washed the car when I returned it, but that would be illegal. With everything behind me I was ready to relax finally after a frantic week around the island driving in stressful situations.

da montains

Jan 12

                Next, I packed up my things and headed towards dewey, the small town where the ferry stops, and learned that the ferry doesn’t come until 1pm so I had 3 hours to kill and decided to go snorkeling, and it was one of the best decisions I have made this trip. I walked out to town to playa melons and witnessed some spectacular coral reef. There were fish of all colors, shapes, and sizes, all sorts of coral from balls to fans to sponges, stingrays, huge fish lurking under the reef, and a needle nosed fish that followed me around wherever I went, which was a little scary. I wish I had an underwater camera! When I came back to shore, I met a cute girl from ponce and asked here some advice. She was nice and gave me some good tips, but she had a boyfriend from califas who was snorkeling  in the water.  She explained to me why the students at the University where I was going to study were on strike, and I understood completely. The university hiked up tuition 800 dollars this semester for errors in administration that the students had no part in. She said the University pays for the president’s chefs, maids, and exquisite, luxurious gatherings.  When it started raining, I went back to dewey. I left for the ferry at 1, and arrived in fajardo at 2:30.

the culebra I drove on

testament to the dangers of the road

After asking a local who was looking for drug money, which I learned after I gave him some change, I directioned myself down the east coast and then towards the mountains along the infamous ruta panoramica. Suddenly, Puerto Rico transformed from a small island to a neverending maze of  one and a half lane roads, fog, and dense jungle. I didn’t see the ocean for 2 days and thought I was in the heart of the amazon.  The first night in the ruta panoramica I learned how crazy Puerto Rican drivers are, and how narrow a road can be while people race past blind curves with racecar mentality. I passed the the carite forest, then to guaniche during the sunset for some of the fabled lechon asado, or roasted pig on a spit. There I was greeted by one ridiculously overweight local and another large on that obviously loved lechon.  They were, however, the friendliest people I had ran into so far and I could feel the different atmosphere of the mountains. It seemed divinely less American, and wholly more latin. I, at times thought I was in the depths of the Colombian highlands, but only 10 miles from the coast. I kept driving after the friendly encounter with locals who fed me cheap (4$) and gave me all sorts of other food to try for free. The drive through the central cordillera was rough and consuming on the mind, as I was constantly getting lost and cringing around blind corners and waiting for a head on collision. Finally, I saw some great night views and halted in the scary toro negro forest reserve. I felt alone and at the mercy of nature here, as the night howled on and the creepy crawlies made some impressive sounds. I slept in my car again and woke up the next morning at at 7 am to get an early start up the roof of Boricua, el cerro de punta at almost 4000 feet(funny that the tallest peak in PR is less than the lowest elevation in Colorado, but it feels higher).  I was blessed by a brilliant sunrise and fantastic views in all directions, drove up the two surrounding peaks to take pics, and finally hiked up cerro de punta for the grand finale. It was a nice short, steep hike through a bit of jungle to the top that was littered with radio towers. To my jolly luck  the fog cleared when I made it to the top and I was presented with a wondrous view in 360 degrees of this enchanted island that was partly shrouded by a veil of clouds. I felt like I was on the top of the world with the clouds beneath me and everything I had seen up to this point below. I took some artistic photos and did 50 pushups, and headed down around 9AM

route up the mountain

Next  on the list was a day trip to jayuya, the heralded least Americanized city in PR. What I planned to see there was the coffee plantation San Pedro and the piedra escrita, which is a large boulder in the river with taino petroglyphs carved into it. Through yet some more strenuous driving and losing myself  about 3 more times, I finally made it to jayuya and walked through the center of town. It was sunny and there was a quaint little plaza in the center. I took the steps up to the centro cultural where I saw Spanish artifacts such as rifles and hoes, and also many pieces of art from the taino, the indigenous peoples of the island. Everywhere I could feel an indigenous vibe, and saw how the people clung to the last thread of their indigenous roots. No, this was not the resort beach town of San juan, this was the crumbling heart of Boricua that pumped reality and nostalgia. Neither was it Ecuador where a large percentage of the population is indigenous. As always things were confusing but here everything seemed clearer.

the hike up to the roof of PR

looks like the roof of the world

encapsulating sunrise

I followed up the road and stopped when I saw a rare hawk in the river, and a local stopped me by the name of noamo to chat. He proceeded to tell me he was stationed in fort carson, CO and let me inside his house. We chatted a bit and he invited me for a taste of his home brew moonshine made from sugar cane and marinated in tropical fruits. It was strong and heavy, but tasted great.  Then I moved onto the piedra escrita, saw some nice petrogrlyphs and jumped from the top of the boulder(about 20 feet) into the river below.  Following up the road, I arrived at the coffee finca named San Pedro and chilled out in the museum and coffee house. I walked around the finca exploring, but soon found out they didn’t want me in the fields, so I returned to the museum with a freshly picked orange bulging out of my pocket.  The girl working the coffee house served me some of their organic coffee, which was very rich and robust in flavor. All around I could smell the aroma of roasted coffee beans, and in this, I returned mentally back to my adventures in Colombia.  I talked with the girl for a ratito about psychology and she explained to me that everyone is crazy, and that normal really doesn’t exist. I then walked back to my car and checked the rental for scratches that  I was almost sure existed from the treacherous mountains, and a man in his jeep started speaking to me randomly. He was born in Pr but moved to Chicago when he was young, got married at 23, and visited PR with his wife, deciding to stay forever. I guess island fever can be depicted as an addiction as well.

cemi, wood figures that the taino used to make for adoration

iglesia de jayuya

After a long 2 days in the mountains to cool off after a crazy sunburn, I was ready to head back to the coast again via Ponce, the pearl of the south.  When I arrived, I checked out downtown, which was nice with its colonial architecture, and headed to the boardwalk, where all of the locals gather to drink and eat fast food for the sunset. Sadly, the boardwalk was dead due to the rain plaguing the coast of Ponce.  Now, I’m here, cyphening internet at hotel belgica catching up on all of the lost days without a computer or a phone, in a twisted, backwards environment that some can call the real Puerto rico. 

la piedra escrita

fruteria