La Isla Bonita: An Excursion to Puerto Rico
Ever since my wife and I started dating back in (yikes) 2014, she's been regaling me with stories of Puerto Rico's loveliness. Oh, we simply must go there, she would say, in a voice that my brain remembers as being far more countess-sounding than it actually was. But, to incorrectly paraphrase Dr. Ian Malcolm: life, uh, gets in the way. Recently though, we were presented with a truly unique motivation to finally pay Sheila's homeland a long-overdue visit: her grandmother's 100th birthday party. And thus began, at long last, our voyage to the island of enchantment.
Into the Groove
Purely by happenstance, before this whole Puerto Rico trip was even proposed, we had a smaller vacation planned in early March. Nine Inch Nails was playing at the MGM Grand in Las Vegas and, having not seen them live since George W. Bush was in office, the time seemed right to take a musically-themed mini vacation. And it was indeed that, though I could not have predicted the exact nature of said musical theme.
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| Though the baggage carousel seems to have predicted our plans pretty well |
You see, we ended up staying at the Park MGM hotel, which was near to but entirely separate from the MGM Grand. And while the MGM Grand was featuring Nine Inch Nails, our hotel was playing host to another musical group: 90s alternative-rap-reggae-rock pioneers 311.
To the uninitiated, 311 is a band that just sounds like the mid- to late-90s. They were pretty ubiquitous on alternative rock radio at the time, and served as both a harder, less-sleazy cousin to Sublime's stoner grooves and a relatively mellow precursor to the surge of much more aggrieved rap-metal bands right around the turn of the millennium. They were a big deal! Having said that, their heyday was nearly 30 years ago, and like many bands very much of their time, I had no idea if they were even still together and actively performing. Boy, was I in for a surprise!
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| That's Las Vegas Magazine cover boys 311 to you |
It turns out that 311 is not only still together, they have a rabidly devoted fan base, who had turned out in droves for the concert. Or concerts, I should say, because 311 was performing two shows, on Saturday and Sunday night, to celebrate 311 Day 2026. I must admit this was confusing, as "Day" implies a show on one single day, and "311" implies said show occurring on March 11th, neither of which was the case. This perplexing nomenclature did not in any dissuade 311's fans, who were abundant, enthusiastic, and incredibly easy to identify. Beyond the normal band t-shirts and hoodies, I quickly noticed that a trend among the 311 hardcore was wearing personalized sports jerseys with the number 311 (naturally) and embroidered names referring to chillin', partying, or marijuana. And when I say this was a trend, I mean it: those jerseys were everywhere. 311, I was not familiar with your game!
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| Picture this but times a thousand |
Park MGM even helped to set the mood for the concerts by piping 90s alternative rock over the sound system in the hotel. As we sat in the lobby waiting for our room to be ready, Third Eye Blind played softly in the background, and this continued all weekend. Sugar Ray in the elevator, Matchbox 20 in the gift shop, that sort of thing. It definitely set the mood for not only the 311 shows but for our own forthcoming concert experience. We did, after all, listen to a lot of Nine Inch Nails back in the 90s.
The concert did not disappoint. Nine Inch Nails knows how to put on a show, and not only did they sound incredible, the production and stage design were awe-inspiring. Trent Reznor obviously puts a lot of care and effort into these shows, and the whole experience was akin to some kind of rockin' alien abduction. If you're into that sort of music and they end up touring again, I highly recommend checking them out.
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| I also highly recommend Nine Inch Noize, a collaboration that spills directly from this tour |
Aside from the concert, we did some other fun, touristy things. I ate at a Gordon Ramsay restaurant for the first time, and finally got to try beef wellington, which was everything I ever hoped it would be.
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| Kinda hard to tell due to the mood lighting, but it was cooked beautifully |
I also rode the rooftop roller coaster at New York, New York, which, despite its draconian rules regarding what you can have on your person during the ride, was quite fun. I kind of expected it to be gimmicky and tame, but it was actually very thrilling and didn't just rely on its unique location for scares.
The night before we left, we ate dinner at a small sushi restaurant a little ways off the strip called Kabuto. It's a very small omakase restaurant, so we made sure to make reservations a few weeks before our trip. I'm so glad we did! The service was impeccable; the server was friendly and knowledgeable, and since we sat at the sushi bar, we got to watch the chef prepare our meal. And what a meal it was.
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| To quote Homer Simpson, "This fish is delish!" |
From delicate soup to rich uni to a variety of almost impossibly fresh nigiri, every single course of this meal was delightful, surprising and expertly prepared. And the sake pairing made it even better. As for portion size, there are two different meal options: a smaller basic meal, and a more expensive deluxe meal with a couple more courses. We went with the smaller, and it turned out to be the perfect choice. I had definitely worried about not feeling full afterwards (I'm a fairly big eater), but ended up completely full and satisfied. The extra courses would have certainly been amazing, but were ultimately unnecessary. Overall, Kabuto served as the perfect dinner to close out our time in Las Vegas: indulgent, but in a classy and elegant way.
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| No seriously, everything was So. Good. |
As we left the hotel the next morning, the vibe had shifted. Gone were the strains of pre-millenial rock music, replaced by the sort of modern pop like Billie Eilish, Rhianna, etc. that one might expect. It was official: 311 Day was over. Well, 3/11 the actual day wasn't over (it somehow hadn't happened yet), but 311's live shows at the Park MGM were over, and so was our stay. We were on to our next adventure, which coincidentally enough was reflected in a sticker some stranger had left by the elevator buttons the night before. In a couple short weeks, we would be off to...
Burning Up
On the morning of our departure from Las Vegas, I felt a disturbingly familiar sensation in my throat: that weird little tickle that tends to serve as the harbinger of sickness. Not terribly surprising, given that Las Vegas is essentially a giant petri dish in the middle of the desert, but not really ideal either. Still, I couldn't be certain this wasn't something related to some combination of the dry air and casino cigarette smoke, so I did what one somewhat kooky college psychology teacher told me to do and repeated the following mantra to myself, as convincingly as possible: I am not getting sick. I am not getting sick. I am not getting sick.
Sadly, my mantra proved ineffective, as I would learn in the days to follow that I had managed to contract bird flu. What's more, my wife ended up sick with something entirely different: COVID.
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| His and hers viruses |
We managed to not cross-infect one another, but our respective infections nonetheless proved annoying, especially since I couldn't really take time off from work during this period between vacations. The days were a bit of a blur, though I remember an impressively persistent runny nose and coughing. Lots and lots of coughing. I had a fever of 104 degrees at one point, though fortunately by then, it was Friday and I had a couple days to rest.
Before you knew it, we were packing up and heading out to our next destination, and not a moment too soon. I was finally feeling okay-ish, and after what I'd just been through, I could use a vacation.
Miles Away
Traveling to Puerto Rico from California is a bit of a journey, and there are only so many flight options. Most of the time, there's going to be a layover or some odd hours involved. In our case, our flights had both of these, so before you knew it, we were sitting around at the Dallas airport, sipping a complimentary espresso martini in an airport lounge while waiting for our midnight departure. I must say, this trip marked my first lounge experience, which is a pleasant little slice of serenity amid the airport hubbub. Well, except when they bring out a fresh platter of the most popular item at a buffet. People are still people, after all.
Even though my body should still have been attuned to Pacific time, it definitely felt like Texas local time to me, and I was drained. Given the length of the flight and the time, I hoped I would be able to sleep for at least some of the flight, but my ability to stay awake on a plane remains undefeated. Instead, I felt the mild sinus headache I brought as my unseen carry-on develop into something far more dagger-like.
While a combination of turbulence and little kid farts activated my gag reflex, I squirmed in my seat to try to find some contortion that might allow for enough of a facsimile of comfort that I might trick my body into rest, to no avail. Instead, I spent the next few hours peering into the darkness outside, occasionally seeing some lights far below me and wondering where I was, who was down there. Eventually through bleary eyes I witnessed the first fuzzy rays of the sun's halo emerge from the void. Our destination was nearing. I guessed I probably wasn't going to be sleeping anytime soon.
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| A good depiction of both the emergent morning light viewed through the plane window and my fried brain |
Holiday
We emerged from the airplane into the pale light of an overcast morning, groggy but excited. We had made it at last: The Island of Enchantment. And also, an opportunity for me to take some Excedrin! I was approaching a full twenty-four hours of wakefulness, so the airport had a hazy, dreamlike quality, as the painted images of famed Puerto Rican musicians greeted us from the walls. I probably should have taken a photo, but I was definitely not at my most mindful. At least we were able to secure the rental car without incident.
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| My home for the following week |
Our lodging for the initial phase of the trip was an Airbnb in Humacao, on the east side of the island. It was perfect for our purposes; fairly close to everywhere we needed to go, spacious, and in a picturesque resort area as well. Yes, there was a bit of initial confusion about exactly which of the several named villages this particular unit was located in, but frankly I blame Maps for that. Regardless, it wasn't long before we had settled in and unpacked. I should have napped, but my body seems to have an aversion to doing that except for when it's at its most sick, and the bird flu in my veins was no longer strong enough to overpower the sunlight.
Instead, I did one of the first things I always do when visiting a foreign land: check out what the McDonald's menu looks like.
Though nothing at Puerto Rican McDonald's was quite as exotic as, say, the shrimp burger from Japan, there were some noteworthy elements to the menu. For example: the hash browns are still cheap! They were $1.49, which doesn't sound all that remarkable until you consider that I've gotten used to paying four-ish dollars for them in California. Speaking of cheap, they also have mozzarella sticks, which come as an affordable four-piece side. Finally, and most surprisingly, they offered a Friends adult Happy Meal, complete with a toy avatar of a random cast member from the hit 90s sitcom. To which I could only respond: lol wut? I expect some McDonald's exclusives when I travel outside the mainland US, but the notion of Happy Meals based on classic sitcoms never crossed my mind as a possibility. Naturally, I had to order one...the possibility of a tiny Joey Tribbiani was just too enticing, even though the actual food content of the meal (Big Mac, fries, drink) was nothing particularly exciting in and of itself. And thus was placed our first Puerto Rican Uber Eats order.
Now, "horror" is perhaps overly dramatic, but we definitely felt something akin to it when our order arrived. The cause of our distress? Our Friends meals came with all the food, yes, but none of the accoutrements. No mini-Monica, no thematic packaging, just regular old McDonald's food in a plain bag. I guess they were sold out already, but the app hadn't caught up yet. On top of that, the mozzarella sticks were fine, but much like the fries, definitely would have benefited from being eaten while still hot rather than after a 40 minute delay. Delivery apps: a cautionary tale!
The rest of that first day was a bit of a blur. I think I caught and lost my second, third, fourth and possibly fifth winds as we visited Sheila's aunt and grandmother, swung by Wal-Mart for provisions and visited a store roughly equivalent to the Dollar Tree named ChinaTown. I'm glad I wasn't the one driving, because at a certain point I was definitely passing out for a few seconds here and there.
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| Can you guess which day this was on my sleep tracker? |
But I survived, and before I knew it we were wrapping up the day by watching MLB's opening day on Netflix. Despite my thorough understanding of how time zones work, it still baffled me that it could be full-on nighttime in our location while the Giants game was being played in full daylight. What wizardry was this? In any case, the game was not going well for my beloved Giants, so perhaps mercifully, it gave us the excuse to retire a bit early. Thirty-seven straight hours awake (brief pass-outs excepted) was plenty, it seemed.
Crave
At this point I feel I should clarify that our McDonald's meal was the exception and not the rule in terms of our vacation dining; I came into this trip extremely excited to get the full Puerto Rican culinary experience. And I think I succeeded! Here are some of the highlights.
Apparently there were never really any restaurants in Sheila's grandmother's neighborhood until recently, when a seafood restaurant opened right up the street. Naturally, we had to try it out, and if we were going to do it, we were going to do it, so we ordered the stuffed lobster.
The lobsters in Puerto Rico are Caribbean lobsters, not the Maine lobsters I'm used to seeing, and regardless I'd never seen any lobster at all like this one. Packed with shrimp, conch and all sorts of oceany goodness, this one is for the real pescado heads out there.
Speaking of which, one evening we dined at La Pescaderia, a restaurant in the same resort as our Airbnb. Here I was able to sample another classic Puerto Rican dish, mofongo.
This dish has mashed plantain at its base, along with garlic, chicharrónes and in this case, your choice of seafood stuffed inside. I went with the lobster again because, you know, vacay mode. In the same vein, when I ordered my drink (drinks, who am I kidding) for the evening, I was initially trying to decide between the rum punch and the five rum punch before realizing the answer was clear, as five is indisputably better than one. That's just science.
It wasn't all about seafood, though. OK, it was mostly about seafood, but not entirely! At a different restaurant I had some churrasco, or grilled skirt steak with chimichurri. Not much explanation needed; it's just really tasty.
This particular restaurant exemplified a couple of common themes of my PR trip: excellent food, and also, Bad Bunny. So, so much Bad Bunny.
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| Bunny, frog and my big stupid face |
Not to get too sidetracked during this food section, but the ubiquity of Bad Bunny in Puerto Rico was quite impressive. Everywhere you went, his music floated on the air, as much a part of the island's ambiance as the coqui frog's nighttime song. Bad Bunny effigies dotted storefronts, and within, merch of questionable authenticity lined store shelves. It was touching, really, to experience firsthand the overwhelming reciprocal love between Benito and his home country.
Wait, did someone say "love?" That was a rhetorical question that I'm using as a transition to the following sentence: I love the empanadillas in Puerto Rico? We ordered them a few times, often as a appetizer/side for a main course, but on one occasion, our full lunch was empanadillas. And I have to say, what a lunch it was!
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| So crispy, so seafoody |
I took down four: lobster (of course), crab, conch and shark. The shark was really mostly a "when am I gonna get the chance to eat that again" move, and was probably my least favorite of the four, but that speaks more to the deliciousness of the others than any failing on the part of the shark itself. You did good, buddy!
One final foodie note: I've mentioned conch here a few times, and coming into this trip, I was unfamiliar with conch in any form other than empty shell. Don't get me wrong, I knew something left that shell behind; I just didn't know how it tasted. Well, I'm happy to report that conch tastes amazing. I compared it to a kind of seafood sausage - which is in truth kind of an awful description - but it actually tastes way better than that and was absolutely a highlight of my island dining experience. The only downside? I have no idea where I'm supposed to get any in California. Conchless California, they call it.
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| To again incorrectly paraphrase Dr. Ian Malcolm: "That is one big pile of conch" |
Time Stood Still
We took a day trip to Old San Juan, which is probably the most touristy area of Puerto Rico. I don't mean that as a pejorative, though: Old San Juan is awesome, and I cannot recommend it enough to fellow travelers. Some places just have it: that special combination of warmth and charm and a variety of sights and activities that designate a true destination. And Old San Juan? Brother, it has it. Unless of course by "it" you mean "a ton of street parking," but to be fair, it wasn't really designed for that either.
Our plan for the day was simple: we were meeting up with some family friends and taking in some of the sights of OSJ. We had a bit of an outline for what we were going to do-visiting the El Morro fort for example, was a must-but were also more than happy to just explore and see where the day would take us. First, though: the aforementioned fort.
El Morro has a lot of history. Over 500 years of it, in fact! It evolved over the years from humble beginnings (a small fort) to what is is today (a big fort). I don't often get the chance to explore something that's been around for centuries...most of the area where I live was an orchard 100 years ago, let alone half a century ago. This voyage into antiquity was special, and a special circumstance makes for special behavior.
I had recently just finished playing through Earthbound on my Nintendo Switch. For those who don't know, Earthbound is a Super NES RPG that was very different from most other games of that genre in the 90s. Among other things, it takes place on Earth in the (then-) modern-day instead of some far-flung fantasy setting, but a quirky and surreal version of Earth. As you travel around to different areas, from time to time the game stops you in your tracks, and a photographer comes spinning down from the sky to take a souvenir photo of you. When this happens (and it happens a lot), your main character does the same pose every time, flashing a smile and a peace sign. Anyway! With the game fresh on my mind, I decided to replicate this pose for any photos I happened to be in that day. Like this one:
Or this one:
I also had to do some Pokemon Go photography, even though I couldn't force my Pokebuddy to do the same pose:
So yeah, El Morro was cool. I learned about its history, the various forces that have occupied it and the conflicts throughout which it has stood strong. It was fascinating to see where food was prepared for the soldiers, where prisoners were help and yes, where people went to the bathroom. The more you know!
After the fort, we all went to lunch, because what's better after visiting the site of so much horrific violence than tapas? Seriously though, after all that walking around, a mojito and some small plates were just what the doctor would have ordered if I had asked the doctor for a food-based prescription.
I unfortunately forgot to take pictures of it. Sorry, I was excited and ravenous.
The rest of our time in Old San Juan involved ice cream eating, souvenir shopping and a trip through the pigeon park. Which is exactly what it sounds like: a park with a million pigeons in it. If you bring them food, they'll even perch all over you. After my recent bout of avian flu, I was cool off that.
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| Trying to get these pigeons to social distance |
On our way back to the car, I was stunned to see an unexpected reminder of our Vegas trip. Imagine strolling down the street, minding your own business, when suddenly you get hit with this:
Even on an island, their influence is inescapable.
Oh, also, I held an iguana that wore a little hat, and then the guy that owned the iguana put it on top of my head as though it itself was a hat. Pretty wild!
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| Look, I was serious about the pose |
Celebration
The day that served as the purpose this trip had arrived: it was my wife's grandmother's 100th birthday. Preparation for the party had begun before we got there and had continued throughout, but nonetheless, as of that morning there was still much to be done. You know what that means: another trip to Wal-Mart! This one was a multi-carter, too. But you know what they say: many guests, many carts.
There was some concern over the logistics of this event. It was taking place at Sheila's grandmother's home, which is not the largest structure in the world, and the guest list was extensive. If everyone that was expected to attend were all there at the same time, how was this even going to work?
Fortunately, everything worked out smoothly. The porch and especially the carport area were put to good use, and despite the numerous guests, the party never felt claustrophobic or even terrible crowded. In short, the family knew what they were doing when they put this together! And it was honestly heartwarming to see so many people getting together to celebrate this special centennial.
Party attendees were warmed in another way as well. Specifically, through imbibing a couple of extremely potent potables specially created for the occasion. I don't know the exact mechanics of their creation, but I believe they were similar to moonshine, with both a coconut and a tamarind variety. Both were quite strong and quite tasty, which is of course the most dangerous combination a liquor can be. But again, this is a one hundredth birthday party . You can't really be playing it safe.
And so it all unfolded as it should: a gathering of family and friends with lively music, copious amounts of food, and everybody maybe a little tipsy. And most importantly of all, one very happy birthday girl.
Promise to Try
With the main purpose of our trip now accomplished, we decided to spend our last few days on the east coast of the island, in Rincón. Rincón is one of those towns that is all about the beach; it is rarely out of your sight, and surfboards and mermaids are a prevailing motif. The restaurants tend to have decks with an ocean view, and the sunsets in particular are famously beautiful.
I've always had a fondness for beach towns (I went to college in Santa Cruz, CA, for example, and still visit it at least once a year), but my relationship with the ocean itself is complicated. You see, I suffer from hydrophobia, owing back to an incident in my early childhood where I, well, drowned and died. Obviously, they revived me, but my brief demise was a pretty foundational trauma for me. Thus, I have always tended to view water with a certain admiration of its power and even its beauty, but it's an admiration I prefer to hold from afar. The ocean to me is basically like a Bengal tiger: lovely to look at, but I'm not climbing in the cage with it.
Anyway, I've made a lot of progress with this particular affliction over the years, so my hydrophobia is nowhere near as extreme as it used to be. Still, I'm not exactly the ideal guest in a beach town for one simple reason: I can't swim, and I don't have any desire to learn. But I also don't want to be in the water, so for me it's a nonissue. I can still enjoy my surroundings, and indeed will enjoy them a lot more when I'm not waist-deep in panic.
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| Also frightening: our Airbnb's swinging beds, suspended from the ceiling! |
Our time in Rincón was fun but not in the eventful sense. It was mostly like, beach or pool or eating. I already covered the food above, so there's not much left that merits deep discussion. I guess I could mention that fact that one morning, while we sat poolside, an iguana strutted around the edge of the water before staring me dead in the eyes and taking a big dump, then nonchalantly escaping into the bushes. That was certainly a thing that happened.
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| Not the same iguana, but I bet he knows him |
It was actually during that same poolside session that I made my wife a promise: I would make an attempt to get in the water before our trip was over. Not in the pool (which had nothing to do with the iguana guano incident, I just didn't feel like it), but in the ocean itself. The water in Puerto Rico, she assured me, was nothing like in Northern California, which tends to be choppy and cold even during the summer. The waters out here were still, clear and warm. At the very least, she said, the salt water would help make my copious mosquito bites itch less.This last point definitely played a significant part in my agreement to go for a dip.
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| I admit I got a bit lax about the bug repellent after awhile |
The next day, we headed to the beach, where I was to fulfill my oath. Anxiety roiled my guts as we trekked across the sand, made that much worse by the fact that, at least by Puerto Rico standards, the water was uncharacteristically rough that day. What's more, another ill omen befell us as Sheila tripped over the crispy, graying, partially-hidden corpse of an iguana. Maybe today just wasn't the day for me to brave open waters.
No. It would have to be. Our trip was nearly over, and I wasn't going to get another chance.
My wife and her sister took to the water immediately as I took slow sips from a can of Medalla to really milk my time on the sand. Soon enough, though, I could no longer delay the inevitable. Full of trepidation, I trudged toward that same sprawling blue sea that had once stolen my body's last breath. Not to be dramatic.
I was definitely trembling as my feet entered the water, and not from the temperature. Sheila was right, the water was much warmer than in Santa Cruz or San Francisco. There was a bit of a current that caused me to sway, but nothing so strong it risked taking me off my feet. Nonetheless, I proceeded slowly, breathing deeply, until I was waist deep, then up to about mid-chest. That was about my limit, but it was a heck of a lot more than I usually would do. There's even video evidence of my feat, which I will not be sharing for what should be obvious reasons.
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| This is all you're getting |
So, did I enjoy facing my fears? Well, not exactly. The water itself was warm and pleasant, but there's a wildness to the open sea that I find unnerving. Plus my inability to swim means that there is a somewhat elevated risk to me being out there that I don't really like taking on. But the important thing is, I did it! I was true to my word and found that the ocean won't always necessarily kill me. And at the very least, it genuinely did help with the itching from those damn mosquito bites.
Take a Bow
Our flight home was a red eye, so we decided to spend our last day by traveling back to San Juan in the morning, then staying in a hotel by the airport until it was time to go. This way we would have plenty of time to rest and relax before our departure, and the trip to the airport itself would be quick and easy.
As we spent these last few hours in our room, we consolidated our luggage, making sure any souvenirs were securely packed and protected. Now, when we take a longer vacation, we often end up listening to a certain artist for the duration; when we went to Japan, for example, we listened to Usher the whole time. For this trip, our artist of choice was Madonna. So of course, that's what was playing in our hotel room for these final moments before we returned to the Bay Area. There was a certain power to the wistful notes of "Take a Bow" filling the air while we reviewed our newly purchased shirts and knick-knacks, reminiscing on the sights we'd seen and the meals we'd eaten.
I took a moment to really soak in the view of San Juan at night from our hotel room window, its lights seemingly winking at us in warm farewell. And then I braced myself for the trip ahead. I was probably going to be awake for a very long time.
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| The last thing I did in Puerto Rico was trying this at the airport. It was not a high point of the trip |
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