The Weekly Croissant: Viejo San Juan

Interlopers

In Las Piñones we sample the seafood, and walk along the boardwalk still heavily damaged from Hurricane Maria. This area is not for tourists, and it has been slower to rebuild. There are gaps in the wooden planks every few feet… “Hole!” my 5 year old nephew screams to each of us, individually. He takes his job very seriously. “Hole! Hole! Hole!”

Across the street, a band is starting up at the bar. The patio is vibrating and the sound reaches us, irresistible. George and I sit on the boardwalk wall, watching from afar as the band sings in unison, banging drums and playing trombones.

The bar-goers start hollering and singing along in Spanish. Rain begins to pour down on us and we run over to take shelter, feeling like interlopers in this space, a party not for us.

The next morning we wake early to float on the surface of the ocean with flippers and goggles. I don’t swim well, but with my feet extended I find it easy, and relaxing. Breathing through my snorkel I see layers of fish below me. It’s a country I’ve never been to, with its own music and language.

Two sea turtles meander by, far below, their coloring blending into the ocean floor. I wonder how they dance, what songs they scream out in unison.