Hola and Hello
We are all America
The air is warm. Not dense with humidity. Just warm.
The breeze. Warm.
The sand. Warm.
The water. W a r m.
“You know I don’t like anything coconut.” Tough crowd.
I couldn’t look away from her orangey bronze spray tan.
The layered textures of nature.
Breathing deeply into the crystal blue water.
High stakes waves.
The city streets emit a quiet pulse of brunch culture, gaining traction in the wake of the days first rum filled coconut.
Tropical vape smoke curls into palm trees
Normally I’d take my translucent punch list and frame it into transparent writing. However, the quiet reflections of my notes app on our New Years getaway felt poetic. Condado is not what I would outright describe as poetic though. It’s a vibrant urban beach and it PULSES. It’s in the city streets meets beach party Puerto Rican culture and hospitality. It is that as long as you let it in.
I’d been hedging my writing / my gathering of photos / creating the latest newsletter. I wasn’t sure why — just that I knew I needed more time. AND THEN BAD BUNNY PERFORMED AT THE SUPERBOWL. And I squealed at every ensemble. Cheered for every moment of lineage and diaspora celebrated.
PIRAGUAS!
BOB LOOK. PIRAGUAS!
Is that Jessica Alba?
I swear I just saw Jessica Alba.
Ok this storefront truly captures Puerto Rico.
Yes to Gasolina — honoring pioneer Daddy Yankee’s reggaetón hit.
Is that 5 year old Liam Conejo Ramos?
OOOO Lady Gaga.
OMG Ricky Martin!
And that show stopping finale. Where Bad Bunny chanted all of the AMERICAN COUNTRIES in proud Latin chorus. A lot of folks seem to have forgotten we are NORTH AMERICA and SOUTH AMERICA and CENTRAL AMERICA and the CARRIBEAN.
WE ARE ALL AMERICA.
PUERTO RICO IS THE UNITED STATES.
Traveling to Puerto Rico is phenomenal because (no customs!) it is an entire specific culture, vibe, experience, and way of life. My boys played on the beach all week with a Spanish speaking brother/sister duo their same ages. My kids don’t speak Spanish but they were enthusiastically intrigued to learn after building sandcastles and sharing beach toys with Carolina and Dylan. Americans. Who live in the United States. Who only speak Spanish. The kids, all four of them, communicated kindness with their eyes, with joyful emotion, with gestures. With Holas and Hellos.
Yeah, it’s the Kodak moment vacation Mom in me. But also, all I felt every time they ran up to my beach chair to show me their drippy castle or share a snack was LOVE. A pure warmth wrapped in innocence. One to protect, even if it’s just from a rogue wave. (Those frothy swells are MIGHTY.) And I wonder. And I struggle. How can we. How do we. Live in a world where our very first instinct is not to protect every single kid on this God given earth. As if they were our own.
AND ISN’T THAT EXACTLY THE MESSAGE? Isn’t that the full circle synchronicity moment right there? From the beaches of Puerto Rico to the Super Bowl Halftime show. The only thing more powerful than hate is love.
This was going to be a post about the restaurants in Condado. That’s the great thing about writing: it takes you where you need to go.
Te Amo,
[To those of you who’ve already texted asking for recs — thank you. You evoke the spirit of why I am here: to connect and to share and to remember. We will get there — !]
Loved this! We speak Spanish at my house, and my daughter will have the opportunity to be a fully bilingual American. What a great opportunity for her!
Such a fun read!