As your plane sinks below the cloud line, the island comes into focus. For some reason, I never considered Puerto Rico as this island paradise. But there it was, this beautiful tropical island, lined in palm trees, waves crashing against the shore. The center of the island covered in rolling steep hills with jungle foliage. It looked like Jurassic Park.
I was lucky enough to to be seated on the left side of the plane so I was also greeted with the famous 16th century Spanish fort Castillo San Felipe del Morro.
The last 30 minutes of the flight, the Puetro Rican man next to me talked my ear off about all the cool things to do in San Juan. "We have this thing, Thursday through Sunday, where we close down the city center, and everyone comes with drinks, and instruments, and we eat from food trucks and get to know our neighbors."
It sounded awesome.As we deboarded the plane, he re-iterated how awesome San Juan was and that he brings his girlfriend to the outdoor party every week so that I would know the locals took part in this event and it wasn't just for tourists.
Unfortunately, I wasn't staying in San Juan. We were staying in a part of Puetro Rico called Manati, which is is basically St. Charles but in Puerto Rico.
We drove an hour from the airport east to Manati. The fingerprints of the hurricane were all over the island. One out of every three buildings was abandoned. Facades with faded paint, holes where the windows once were, in some instances roofs barely holding their structure, awaiting collapse. We would soon find out, strong plumbing was a luxury. Often instead of flushing your toilet paper, there would be trashcans next to the toilet that were emptied every hour or so.
Later on, one of the guys we were working with quipped that after the hurricane, many people didn't have home owners insurance and could not afford to rebuild. It was often cheaper for them to move to Florida rather than rebuild their lives in Puetro Rico.
There weren't a ton of local options near our hotel so we had to make a concerted effort to not let exhaustion win.
It didn't always work. I flew 2000 miles to eat at such culinary treats Olive Garden, Chilies, and Longhorn Steakhouse (X 2). But we did manage to get out a few times.
Costa Azul was our first spot. We were a little taken aback. This neighborhood more than the others we drove through appeared to be abandoned. Fencing laid on flat on the ground. Drive ways were filled with cars on cinder blocks. People rode horses through the streets.
We weren't sure if non-locals would be welcomed. We briefly considered moving on to something else, but we were wrong. After the hostess who's English wasn't very strong, realized we were Americans, she sat us in the bar area. Hector wandered up to our table with a giant smile, saying "Hola Amigos, what can I get you to drink?"
He poured my glass of wine heavy. The menu looked delicious, I couldn't decide. So when in this situation, I said Hector.... what is your favorite thing on the menu.
He pointed to a section called Mofongo Relleno. These were variations on mashed plantains, formed into a tower, hollowed out, and then filled with a delicious stew. His favorite was the chicken and steak with some guava sauce. I took his suggestion and was quickly in love with the foot. My only regret is I think it will be a difficult dish to recreate. My eyes are scanning for cheap plantains everytime I go to the store.
The next two days were draining and ultimately is when we went with large chain meals and didn't really venture too far from the hotel. (I watched half a season of The Boys on Amazon while falling asleep.) I even did a Wal Mart stop to get some Red Bulls for the next days session.
It was Wednesday when I was feeling angry that I had flown 2000 miles and had barely done anything local.
I found a beach that was open past 5 (another one of the reasons we hadn't made it) and as we left our customer I asked Craig if he had the fortitude to just go to the beach in our business casual clothes. Mar Chiquita Beach was this beautiful cliffside spot. There was what once was a very rich neighborhood looming over the actual beach, completely abandoned from what we could tell. A family of dogs roamed freely around, rolling in the sand, playing with each other.A large rocky monolith was sandwiched between two bays, each one sparsely populated with humans wading in the waves.
I was there at golden hour. It was peaceful in a way I rarely get to experience.
Feeling great after our trip that night, we decided to find a local place to eat at. That's when I found Rock Out Cafe, a heavy metal inspired burger joint.
There was no one in the place. There was no air conditioner. The air hung heavy. But the sounds of Led Zepplin greeted us and the lone employee at the time had already made eye contact. We were locked in.
That lone employee turned out to be the owner. As the shift changed, he was getting ready to leave and came over and shook both of our hands and told us "thank you for coming to my restaurant. I wish I could stick around and talk to you some more."
We ordered burgers which were hand pattied by a nice older woman in the back. They took 30 minutes, but were worth it. Rock Out Cafe was a hit.
The final local place we were able to check out was Up Restaurant and Bar. Tucked on top of an insurance company, this small place was ran by a family. We were sat down and within a few minutes a 50-something woman came over to take our drink order. She recommended the cilantro Mojito, it was one of their specialties. (Usually served with mint instead)
Then, when I ordered a pork shank and tried to order fried Plantains, she put her hand on my shoulder and said, "You see that out there?" She pointed to all the other restaurants in the area, "You can get fried plantains at any of those places. You love food, I know because you came here. You are not going to order fried plantains. I'm going to make you something special."
And then I gorged myself on tacos, pork shank, and this delicious risotto she cooked up for me.
It was incredible.
She gave me a half hug on the way out the restaurant.
I found nothing but love in Puerto Rico. Every I met was happy we had come, wanted to share their specialties with us. The island was beautiful. There's much rebuilding to do still. There's many people that have left. But it felt like home.
