Essay Wow!

My Puerto Rico

Anyone who has ever been on vacation knows how special it can be. Spending time with family, relaxing worry-free, and just getting away from a normal schedule can be very rewarding, and make for some great memories.

The first time I traveled to Puerto Rico, I was nine months old. I don’t remember much about that trip, but there were many more to come in following years. I can recall vividly my most recent trip; After hours of sitting in an airplane’s cramped cabin, snacking on a miniscule serving of extremely salty pretzels, it was a relief to hear the captain’s voice come over the intercom, “We have begun our landing pattern and should be touching down in just over twenty minutes,” what a relief!

It was very refreshing to step off the crowded Boeing 767 and to have my personal space back. After a short stretching session, it was time to claim our baggage.

It’s easy to forget what the tropical Puerto Rican climate is like, especially after spending years straight in Minnesota. The first step is a shocker; the difference between the clean, cool, air conditioned airport, and the hot, heavy, and humid mass of gasses outside is monumental. The first thing to hit is sweat; it comes almost immediately, shortly followed by a feeling of weakness caused by the expansion of one’s blood vessels. After no more than five minutes, these symptoms become inane, and so begins the search for our driver. Once he is located, we began our journey through the “real” Puerto Rico to our destination, Palmas Del Mar.

The “real” Puerto Rico resembles some third-world countries; however, there are no signs of a weak economy. There are some areas that are undoubtedly high-crime, dirty, and not-so-friendly. The roadways leave much to be desired, and the traffic laws are absolutely lacking in nearly all areas. The buildings are brightly colored, and foliage is lush and green. The “real” Puerto Rico is not the place I think of when I think about Puerto Rico. The transition between my Puerto Rico and the “real” Puerto Rico is a brief one. It takes less than one minute; I can see it off in the distance at first, it looks like a large building on the horizon. My excitement builds as we near the structure that is not a gigantic building, but a “fortress wall” that separates my two conceptions of this small Caribbean island. At the cold iron gates stand four guards. Armed with submachine guns, they control the inbound and outbound traffic. Once on the other side of the wall, I am surrounded by a world completely different from the one I had seen just moments before. Like Dorothy in the Land of Oz, I gaze attentively out the window at the perfect grass, beaches of orange sand, and the cleanest ground I had seen since the San Joes Airport. Compared to the distance I had traveled in the past few hours, I felt inches away from this trips destination. My excitement continues to build, a volcano’s liquid-hot magma ready to erupt in a hyperactive sprint toward the ocean.

We pull into the #203 parking space that corresponds to the stucco condominium that will be our home for the week to come. I furiously slide the van door open, and in a few short seconds, I fling myself into the salty wet mass that is the Atlantic Ocean. A sudden pain overtakes me and I am rendered unable to see. In a panic, I make my way onto the coarse beach and rub the salt out of my eyes. Returning to my family, I help to unload the remainder of our baggage and we begin to unpack.

The condominium is medium sized, large enough to house another family, but in this situation, every room is used. In front, a painted iron gate opens to a small area where the air conditioning unit sits. Behind the gate a few feet is the front door. Inside, the ceramic tile floors, white walls, and splashes of colorful artwork present a peaceful free feeling. There are two tastefully decorated bedrooms, two baths, a living/dining room area, and a kitchen.

The condo served as many things for me, a place to sleep, a place to hang out, and a place to plan activities. I enjoyed many restful nights listening to the gentle whisper of the waves, after long days of touring the surrounding areas, swimming in the ocean or swimming pools, or just lazing in the sun. Decisions of the utmost importance were also made in the condo: where to eat, how to spend extra time, or what sights to see while sightseeing. If it was agreed that we would spend some of our extra time hanging out in the condo, there was plenty to do. Watching Spanish TV was always a fulfilling pastime. Though I knew no Spanish at the time, I could still understand the animated character’s intentions. Occasionally, we would open coconuts that had fallen from the tall palm trees during the night before or morning while we were occupied. As far as fruit goes, coconut is very stubborn and difficult to open; unless the aid of a hacksaw is available, one must resort to the use of brute force to yield the thick coconut meat and creamy milk. A way I used to pass time years ago was to like the salt off the window screens. The salt crystallizes on the screens because the waves crashing against the shore causes more evaporation of water and the solute salt within it. When I was much younger, I would spend hours making rounds from screen to screen just to lick the bitter sea salt from them.

Being just a few yards from the beach, there were many opportunities to build elaborate sandcastles. Some of the best sandcastles I ever made were on that beach, with intricate details that no one but the constructor could know about, and tall unstable turrets jutting from the walls inside the moat, they were surely some of my greatest creations.

There were 5 or 6 swimming pools within one half mile, and some nights we would make trips to as many as we could. Many of them were only for patrons of the hotels they belonged to, but we were usually guaranteed at least twenty minutes of hassle-free swimming before hotel security would ask us for our room number. 203 wasn’t the right answer, oh well, on to the next pool.

On some days, the ocean water was clear enough for snorkeling. There were sets of equipment at the condo that were for use by whoever stayed there. Snorkeling was always a fun experience; however, it made me nervous going into the water without at least goggles afterwards. Seeing all of the strange underwater life that can’t be noticed without being able to see underwater really awakened my imagination.

A rest from everyday life is definitely a rewarding experience. A week of laid-back laziness provides a new outlook on ordinary life. My vacations in Palmas Del Mar in Puerto Rico will be memories that will be with me until I die.

read comments (0)