After arriving in San Juan on Tuesday afternoon, I immediately went for a run. It felt good to be in the tropical air. For maybe half a mile, I felt weightless. I had also spent the past three years fantasizing about how much better New York City would be if it installed more protected bike lanes like the one I had seen in San Juan in 2020 and I wanted to make sure it was still there. It was, and it was really something to behold. Smooth, protected, unobstructed by cops, delivery vehicles, and placard holders. A dream, really. But having been radicalized against car culture during the lockdown and subsequent (ongoing) descent into congestion madness, I was also disappointed to note that the protected bike-lane network had not been expanded beyond this single road. Why weren't there crews of publicly-financed workers everywhere ripping up roads to install protected bike (and bus) lanes? Like everywhere else in the United States, cars in San Juan were bigger and more pervasive in 2023 than in 2020, while sidewalks and other forms of pedestrian infrastructure -- even in the touristy neighborhoods -- were neglected and falling apart. I thought about how the Democratic Party had squandered an opportunity to help Puerto Rico (and Washington DC) -- not to mention democracy in United States -- by pushing for statehood. And then I reminded myself that I didn't come here to complain.
On the way to the old city, I stopped at a small park adjacent to some ruins. What was here in 2020? I couldn't remember.
A staircase descending into the ocean seemed like a fitting symbol for 2023.
I said hello to a few of the stray cats and thought about Zephyr and Clio, who we had left alone* for the first time since January 2020, which was the last time Stephen and I had traveled together.
*we hired cat-sitters to feed and visit the cats twice per day :)
The light on the coastline was still beautiful.
It felt good to run in the heat, but I wasn't used to it. While catching my breath, I wandered in and out of the turrets of the fortress.
As always, I was excited to see moss growing between the decaying bricks. This is what #hope looks like in 2023.
On this trip, we stayed in the Condado, which is a touristy area of San Juan along the beach. Last time we stayed closer to the old city, which meant a long walk or taxi if we wanted to swim or go clubbing to a restaurant; this time, we were only steps to both, impeded only by the parade of massive SUVs trolling up and down Ashford Avenue. Our hotel room had a nice view from the balcony.
It was a little strange to participate in the industrial-tourism complex without constantly assessing its economic and environmental impact. I watched the other guests and wondered how they saw themselves in the world as it exists in 2023. It was hard not to think about The White Lotus and imagine which guest would be which character. I felt vaguely culpable, as if I were personally responsible for the (mostly) white/non-white demographic of the guests and hotel staff (and how this dynamic is reflected so many different types of power imbalances and related injustices in the world). Or maybe just for being part of a species that is ruining the planet, as was apparent in the endless plastic debris that now washes up on the shore, despite regular sweeps of the beach by the hotel maintenance crews.
But mostly over the course of four days I succumbed to the pleasures of seeing new people and doing new things. On our last trip to San Juan, we ate dinner at a restaurant called Paulina Escanes - Gourmandize, which is a 'farm-to-table' experience that did not disappoint in any way. (I'm not a food writer, but know that everything on the menu is as good as it sounds.) At one point, we were talking to the server, who recommended that we come back for brunch, specifically for the pancakes, which she claimed were the 'best in the world.' Lol, really? we asked, but she was serious. When we went in 2020, we agreed: the pancakes were, in fact, the best in the world. They were somehow thick but incredibly light, with just a hint of sweetness. It was like eating a cloud covered in maple syrup.
This time we went back again, twice (again): once for dinner, and once for brunch. I won't describe the food except to say that, like every other restaurant we tried in San Juan, the food was amazing. If you want recommendations, feel free to get in touch :)
And the pancakes were still the best in the world, proving that maybe a few things about our society are worth preserving in 2023.
Maybe this year will be about keeping the good things and dispensing with the bad.
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