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I think my next job title should be a beach bum. After these past few days, I think I could say I’m an expert at soaking up the Caribbean sun’s rays. But today, I enjoyed paradise with new friends.
They laughed as they watched me bravely, or maybe foolishly, prance with the waves. Occasionally, the waves would send me toppling towards shore filling my suit would fill with sand as I scrapped across the bottom.
My new friends tried to ride the surf with me. However, they seemed to be helpless. Many shook their head before retiring to the beach — defeated. They could not overcome the constant cycle of water lashing at their backs.
Fully depleted of energy, we ventured to find mofongo. None of them tasted Puerto Rico’s novelty dish before now. Each listened in fascination as I describe the heritage dish. Their eyes glowed as their personal plantain volcanoes were served.
We walked home from the beach tired from the sun and battling the monstrous waves. But the night was still young.
After showering away the salt and sand out of our pores, we donned on your vacation best and danced with the locals in La Placita. In the small, crowded salsa bar an older Puerto Rican singer swung me around the dance floor, filling the room with my laughter. The Dominican boys who roomed with me showed me how to match the rhythm and dazzle spectators as I spun from friend to friend.
I walked back to the hostel with a beer in hand — how novel that felt — and among new friends. We crashed in the wee hours of the morning and waited for the sun to rise.