(no subject)
This is the first installment of scenes from my trip to San Juan that led me down roads of self-contemplation and social critique. Puerto Rico is a land of contradictions and paradoxes, the juxtapositions of peoples and ideologies creating both the cultural richness and poverty that make her so enigmatic. These short offerings are inadequate to describe how I was impacted, but I suppose that is the nature of writing. As always, commentary and critiques are welcome. Enjoy!
The Day to Day (Images of San Juan, pt. 1)
*Waiting for my dad to park the car, I put my hand on a nearby tree. Upon feeling something scurry past my fingers, I try to make out the creature I've disturbed in the mixture of dusk and flickering street lamps. I finally see it--a small lizard, the color of the bark, still as stone in the presence of a creature with my size. As my eyes adjust to the scarce light, I see at least a dozen of these lizards scattered over the trunk. I stare into the leaves in wonder, contemplating how many creatures are frozen in fear because of something as seemingly harmless as a son waiting for his dad.
*Everyone first speaks to my mother in English, but they speak to my father and me in Spanish. Clearly we look Puerto Rican to them. As a result, they often look surprised at my lack of coherence as I stumble through poorly constructed sentences in my sparsely practiced second language. Sometimes they laugh in my face. I can only laugh with them.
The Day to Day (Images of San Juan, pt. 1)
*Waiting for my dad to park the car, I put my hand on a nearby tree. Upon feeling something scurry past my fingers, I try to make out the creature I've disturbed in the mixture of dusk and flickering street lamps. I finally see it--a small lizard, the color of the bark, still as stone in the presence of a creature with my size. As my eyes adjust to the scarce light, I see at least a dozen of these lizards scattered over the trunk. I stare into the leaves in wonder, contemplating how many creatures are frozen in fear because of something as seemingly harmless as a son waiting for his dad.
*Everyone first speaks to my mother in English, but they speak to my father and me in Spanish. Clearly we look Puerto Rican to them. As a result, they often look surprised at my lack of coherence as I stumble through poorly constructed sentences in my sparsely practiced second language. Sometimes they laugh in my face. I can only laugh with them.