Discovering Puerto Rico, One Step at a Time

By: Julie North

No pun intended here, it’s quite a feat to use one’s own two (feet) to circumnavigate an island, let alone one that’s roughly 353 miles around, one foot after the other, for thirty days, start to finish. 

In June 2020, that’s what I did. 

I walked around this isla del encanto, measuring both my mileage and my blessings. 

It was the height of a pandemic, no need for further elaboration on that, we were all there if you’re reading this so although the challenges and struggles were different in each place on this tiny sphere hurdling itself through the Milky Way in the middle of the universe, it was unprecedented for many of us. I was lucky enough to find the silver lining, exploring my backyard, walking from barrio to barrio during those early days in the name of “exercise,” and meeting more of my neighbors through innocent exchanges of guineos for starfruit, relying on my broken Spanish and words of appreciation as lips were concealed under masks. I found many surprises by slowing down— it was a first for me.

The only girl in her family, who tried as she could to keep up with the boys, held on to those sentiments well into adulthood. Always full speed ahead. Even at this exact moment, I find I still have to remind myself that it’s not always about producing something of value during the mandated 40 hours, but rather intentional- a new word to start every incoming year, this time I decided to go with “legacy.” What do I want to leave behind when it comes to that? 

A taste for adventure. 

Experiencing authenticity and not relying on what people tell you. You have to see it for yourself. Just as those brave new explorers traversed mountain ranges, rivers, deserts, and oceans, you can be an explorer too, even in this day of influencers— be unpredictable. Get outside and see for yourself. 

Quite a bit can be conjured and noodled on at a walking rate of three miles per hour. Nothing but pure Puerto Rican sunshine (a rainstorm or two outside of Humacao) and insurmountable adventures that I still recall in places that I’ve revisited since. So from my journey to hopefully yours as you feed your curiosity about this small but mighty island surrounded by the Caribbean Sea, I give you a taste of my secret spots, places that make you sigh, “Boricua de verdad.” Without further adieu, I hope you find yourself happily repeating this line over local delicacies, shared stories, human connection, and adventure for the sake of it.  

Lamboglia

It sounds Italian, doesn’t it? Or the name of an exotic flower whose vines wrap around columns of houses and weave themselves between chain link fences. It was here that I walked along an overpass just high enough to get a glimpse of the ocean through the centuries-old royal palms that are embroidered to create a ribbon of bows, dotting the sky and providing shade for the black and white cows whose markings resemble those IQ tests of paint splotches that determine if you’re insane or not— I often questioned this as a solo female jaunting along this stretch of highway unaware of any danger that might be lurking ahead. The only trouble ahead was a solid stretch of empanadilla vendors, the likes of which I’d never tasted: cetí, conejo, yuca, guava, and cheese. I remember this day well, I didn’t feel guilty one bit for housing a dozen of these tasty turnovers and visiting each stall off Highway 53 onto Road 3 leading to the town. If I could do one stretch again, I would just walk back and forth this main street for the course of the day. 

Punta Papayo

With an art deco hotel building as the main attraction here, one can’t help but feel like they need to tease their hair into a beehive, yank up those high-waisted jean shorts a tad, and put the crooner, Hector Lavoe, himself, on repeat. As if the 70s style hadn’t made a comeback already, at least here it seems like it never disappeared. The waves are calm and gentle. The beers are cold as always. And just like I’ve visited many times since it’s been me and maybe a handful of others. I don’t mind if you tell your friends about this place, just support the local vendors and like good stewards of the land, “pack it in, pack it out,” or “usa el zafacón, cabrón.” 

Piñones

Just the name itself creates a stomach pang. Here is where I learned the true reason for chinchorreo: all that drinking is exercise, and you get hungry. The alcapurrias here are as long as your arm. The bacalaitos as big as your head. The tales are as tall as the namesake pine trees that mingle with the palms and sway in the same trade winds that once brought ships of slaves from Africa on a conveyor belt of Atlantic breezes.

A barrio just down the road from the cosmopolitan neighborhoods of Isla Verde and Condado, Piñones is an inviting space that encapsulates the natural beauty and harbors you from the heat of the city; the ocean within steps of stalls and tables, calling you to take a dip between snacks. Easily one of my favorite places in Puerto Rico because it was designed with people in mind to stroll along the beach and side roads intertwined with more than a 3-mile long stretch of boardwalk that weaves itself in and out of these microcosm pine forests. Mermaids exist as I’m convinced this is where they come out of the water to trade their fins for feet just to partake in the true flavors of the island while taking a Sunday stroll. 

Cataño

Essentially old Italian slang for “Captain,” this little enclave is a refuge from the hustle and bustle of Viejo San Juan. Just a stone’s throw from the infamous fort, a 20-minute ferry ride will shuttle you across the bay where you can wander the boardwalk. As I remember, the residents were very friendly and on more than one occasion I was asked where I was from, which invited more dialogue about the neighborhood. It was here that I learned more about Pedro Albizu Campos and his words were felt deep in the morrow of my bones, “The nation is represented by those who affirm it, not those who deny it.” This was a highlight of my early morning trek out of San Juan. Any line where locals are standing drinking café con leche, singing along to Willie Colón is a good line to join. 

Luquillo

The Q is always the “key” here in both pronunciation and that magic bottle that literally dawns a “Don” in its title. Somehow always finding its way into every parranda at Christmas time and let’s be honest, it’s not coquito without Tío Q.

I like to think this is what the island’s sleepy surf towns of the 80s used to be. The surfing is underrated, uncrowded, and off the beaten path. La Selva is probably one of my favorite breaks on the island. A good right-hand break. I suppose I got lucky that day and was out early before the winds picked up. Maybe that’s what keeps people away. Either way, you can drive around the island in one day. Luquillo is definitely a stop. Make a point to cruise your way to the kiosks at night and mingle with the locals. Offer to buy a round, you might learn another secret spot or two.

You can learn more about Julie’s journey on Instagram.

Julie is part of our guest author series. Check out her previous article here.