This spring I was eager, overly ready, to transition into the color and pop that comes with the spring mood. A fan of it every year, but this one in particular I was looking for more, what some would even consider obnoxious pop culture.
Some cities in this world seem to have been handmade for the fall season, like a song or a poem. Where the classic subtleties can be found around every corner and are equally as grounding as it is uplifting.
Upon landing, as with any Euro travel, it began with a heightened state of dreaminess. No doubt equal parts both from a 10hr flight and the eagerness of a much-anticipated visit. A dreaminess nonetheless and one that lingers in the memory long after.
I've always been a fan of the idea of a weekend getaway in a rustic seaside town. The type of place that drifts into the imagination from an exotic jazz riff or countless classic films. Typically to find, and fit, this narrative one would immediately think to have to look at an international trip. And I did my very self before this one. But then I realized...what about Puerto Rico?