“Own only what you can carry with you; know language, know countries, know people. Let your memory be your travel bag.”
–Alexander Solzhenitsyn
It sounds cliché, but pictures can’t describe my time in Puerto Rico. It’s not because it was that beautiful that an image could not capture its character, but rather, a picture is simply that, a picture. A picture would not describe my conversation with an old woman on a public bus, capture the feelings of getting robbed and scammed on our first day in port, capture the sounds of the salsa music in the streets of Old San Juan, nor would it portray my new relationship with some Puerto Rican friends. For everything else—the buildings, the Spanish ruins, the cobblestone streets—I have pictures for, mostly for the reasons they are the most easy to forget.
On our first morning in Puerto Rico, some friends and I headed toward Old San Juan. Stopping for pictures of the ocean and for the occasional iguana crossing, we continued along to San Cristobal Fort and to the cliffs jutting into the ocean to explore. We diverted to the State Capital Building of Puerto Rico, before continuing to Old San Juan.
We were soon approached by a frantic American seeking our help. A tall man from Wisconsin sporting a fanny-pack and sunglasses, the man told us his traumatic dilemma. He and his dad were visiting the island the previous night when, in a bad neighborhood, his dad got mugged and badly hurt. Having no money and no luck with the Puerto Rican police, the man was in need of a small cab fare of $22 to get back to his cruise ship. Inspired by his story and his courage, we donated $25 so he could return back.
It was frustrating to learn from a local islander that the “man from Wisconsin” was a complete and utter fake—his story was his long-time “gimmick.” Retelling the story to other SASers, we soon learned that we weren’t the only ones fooled. The man, we assume, made a hefty profit from our shipload of sympathetic college students. It was disappointing but nonetheless a good lesson to learn for our next and possibly most dangerous port, Brazil.
We continued further along to a hole-in-the-wall restaurant we found called Yeyos. The lunch menu was handwritten on a small piece of notebook paper and taped to the counter. We sat as an old woman cooked for us, serving us roasted chicken, rice, beans and fried plantains all for less than $6.
Leaving the restaurant and pulling out an old piece of paper from my back pocket, I had written down the directions to Club Gallistico—a chicken fighting arena. Cockfighting in Puerto Rico is a HUGE sport (and somehow still legal despite P.R. being a U.S. Territory). With some interested co-travelers, we navigated our way to the bus terminal to take the “A5” to Isla Verde. A 45-minute adventure that tested my developing Spanish proficiency, we finally ended up at the cockfighting arena. The pictures and video are self-explanatory; it was a disturbing sport to watch. I was immersed as a spectator in a sport I may never understand. We left with a deep sense that this was just the beginning—that this semester we would often have to take ourselves outside our comfort zone.
That night a small group of us got a van to drive us one-hour to bioluminescent bay. Greek philosopher Aristotle described the phenomena of bioluminescence: “You strike the sea with a rod by night and the water is seen to shine.” It is a marine phenomenon where living organisms emit light through a process of oxidation. There are only 4 “biobays” in the world, and Puerto Rico has 3 of them. We kayaked through the dark night with a tour guide 3 miles through a mangrove forest. Putting our paddles in or shaking our hands and feet in the water, the water glowed and sparkled. It is impossible to explain, but believe me it was awesome. We had fun kayaking through the jungle at night—and the full moon and bright stars certainly helped make this night a memorable one.
The next morning my friend and I were approached by a reporter from Nuevo Dìa, Puerto Rico’s daily newspaper, on an article about SAS. After, we headed to Old San Juan to walk around for the day and visit another fort El Morro. Later that afternoon we headed to El Yunque, the only rainforest protected by the U.S. Forest System. We hiked through the forest and swam underneath the waterfalls. On the way home we went to another random restaurant for more native food and more fried plantains.
That night we went out to Calle San Sebastian for some “local beverages.” Being among the hundreds of SASers at the raggaeton and salsa clubs, I was fortunate to meet some local Puerto Ricans our age. I spoke Spanish to them while they spoke English back to me, as it was practice for both of us. The several hours of hanging out with the native islanders and sharing about ourselves was by far the most amazing part of Puerto Rico. I was actually connecting with their culture and at the same time speaking their language with near-fluency like I’ve never before.
The last day I was exhausted. I slept-in, went to Starbucks for Internet, Walgreens for some stuff, walked around the Old San Juan for a while, then headed back to the ship. The highlight of the day was buying a copy of Nuevo Dìa and seeing my picture and quotes translated into Spanish. Back on the ship, the Executive Dean and some other SAS administration were amazed that myself and two others made the local paper. In the end, it was as if Puerto Rico made an impact on me, and I somehow left my mark on Puerto Rico.
VIDEO CLIPS FROM SAN JUAN
–Alexander Solzhenitsyn
It sounds cliché, but pictures can’t describe my time in Puerto Rico. It’s not because it was that beautiful that an image could not capture its character, but rather, a picture is simply that, a picture. A picture would not describe my conversation with an old woman on a public bus, capture the feelings of getting robbed and scammed on our first day in port, capture the sounds of the salsa music in the streets of Old San Juan, nor would it portray my new relationship with some Puerto Rican friends. For everything else—the buildings, the Spanish ruins, the cobblestone streets—I have pictures for, mostly for the reasons they are the most easy to forget.
On our first morning in Puerto Rico, some friends and I headed toward Old San Juan. Stopping for pictures of the ocean and for the occasional iguana crossing, we continued along to San Cristobal Fort and to the cliffs jutting into the ocean to explore. We diverted to the State Capital Building of Puerto Rico, before continuing to Old San Juan.
We were soon approached by a frantic American seeking our help. A tall man from Wisconsin sporting a fanny-pack and sunglasses, the man told us his traumatic dilemma. He and his dad were visiting the island the previous night when, in a bad neighborhood, his dad got mugged and badly hurt. Having no money and no luck with the Puerto Rican police, the man was in need of a small cab fare of $22 to get back to his cruise ship. Inspired by his story and his courage, we donated $25 so he could return back.
It was frustrating to learn from a local islander that the “man from Wisconsin” was a complete and utter fake—his story was his long-time “gimmick.” Retelling the story to other SASers, we soon learned that we weren’t the only ones fooled. The man, we assume, made a hefty profit from our shipload of sympathetic college students. It was disappointing but nonetheless a good lesson to learn for our next and possibly most dangerous port, Brazil.
We continued further along to a hole-in-the-wall restaurant we found called Yeyos. The lunch menu was handwritten on a small piece of notebook paper and taped to the counter. We sat as an old woman cooked for us, serving us roasted chicken, rice, beans and fried plantains all for less than $6.
Leaving the restaurant and pulling out an old piece of paper from my back pocket, I had written down the directions to Club Gallistico—a chicken fighting arena. Cockfighting in Puerto Rico is a HUGE sport (and somehow still legal despite P.R. being a U.S. Territory). With some interested co-travelers, we navigated our way to the bus terminal to take the “A5” to Isla Verde. A 45-minute adventure that tested my developing Spanish proficiency, we finally ended up at the cockfighting arena. The pictures and video are self-explanatory; it was a disturbing sport to watch. I was immersed as a spectator in a sport I may never understand. We left with a deep sense that this was just the beginning—that this semester we would often have to take ourselves outside our comfort zone.
That night a small group of us got a van to drive us one-hour to bioluminescent bay. Greek philosopher Aristotle described the phenomena of bioluminescence: “You strike the sea with a rod by night and the water is seen to shine.” It is a marine phenomenon where living organisms emit light through a process of oxidation. There are only 4 “biobays” in the world, and Puerto Rico has 3 of them. We kayaked through the dark night with a tour guide 3 miles through a mangrove forest. Putting our paddles in or shaking our hands and feet in the water, the water glowed and sparkled. It is impossible to explain, but believe me it was awesome. We had fun kayaking through the jungle at night—and the full moon and bright stars certainly helped make this night a memorable one.
The next morning my friend and I were approached by a reporter from Nuevo Dìa, Puerto Rico’s daily newspaper, on an article about SAS. After, we headed to Old San Juan to walk around for the day and visit another fort El Morro. Later that afternoon we headed to El Yunque, the only rainforest protected by the U.S. Forest System. We hiked through the forest and swam underneath the waterfalls. On the way home we went to another random restaurant for more native food and more fried plantains.
That night we went out to Calle San Sebastian for some “local beverages.” Being among the hundreds of SASers at the raggaeton and salsa clubs, I was fortunate to meet some local Puerto Ricans our age. I spoke Spanish to them while they spoke English back to me, as it was practice for both of us. The several hours of hanging out with the native islanders and sharing about ourselves was by far the most amazing part of Puerto Rico. I was actually connecting with their culture and at the same time speaking their language with near-fluency like I’ve never before.
The last day I was exhausted. I slept-in, went to Starbucks for Internet, Walgreens for some stuff, walked around the Old San Juan for a while, then headed back to the ship. The highlight of the day was buying a copy of Nuevo Dìa and seeing my picture and quotes translated into Spanish. Back on the ship, the Executive Dean and some other SAS administration were amazed that myself and two others made the local paper. In the end, it was as if Puerto Rico made an impact on me, and I somehow left my mark on Puerto Rico.
VIDEO CLIPS FROM SAN JUAN
swimming in the Rainforest.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WIUcJmeZwC8
at a cockfight
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DigYkUG4fvQ
2 comments:
Sounds like you are into the spirit of the meaning of SAS. And, unfortunately, the importance of watching and understanding the nature of some people.
Sometimes, like your last day, going slower will reap more benefits, insights!
Enjoy the experiences you have had and are yet to come!
Sounds beautiful. We miss you but are very excited to hear of your adventures. Please be safe!
love,
Mom & Dad, Bryan & Katie
oh... also is there an electronic way of contacting people on your e-mail list - when your web -site is updated?
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