The International Writers Magazine: Puerto Rico

Puerto Rico - Discovering a Unique Identity • Sonum Bharill Up until a week ago, I thought of Puerto Rico as a tropical island and a territory of the United States. However after spending four days there, I came to realize that it is instead a series of juxtapositions.

Globalization, tradition, mountains and beaches, English and Spanish, tourism and “real life,” all these make up the island's personality.

Puerto Rico’s history is rife with outsiders taking over sovereignty. While Spaniards and Americans have been the only two countries to hold power, the French, Dutch and British all tried to conquer Puerto Rico, the strategic gateway to the Caribbean. Two old stone forts in Old San Juan stand as a testament to the wars and many attacks that brave soldiers staved off. These forts guard the picturesque coastline and as I stood in what was once the sentry lookout, I wondered how sentries stood for hours on end without becoming mesmerized by the beautiful view: the rocky coast that turned into a sandy beach, the deep blue ocean punctuated by waves, and white clouds contrasting with the clear blue skies.

While the official languages of Puerto Rico are English and Spanish, only a fraction of the population converses in English on a daily basis. Everyone speaks Spanish, and specifically, Puerto Rican Spanish. The difference: the extremely fast pace, the mumbling, and the substitution of some Rs for Ls. For example, verdad becomes veldad. The scarcity of spoken English in daily life contributed to my thought of Puerto Rico as separate from the United States. However the Puerto Ricans who came into contact with tourists spoke perfect English. I felt as though Americans from the “mainland” who participated only in touristy activities would have a completely different view of Puerto Rico than those who took the time to see real Puerto Rican culture.

To have a non-touristy experience in Puerto Rico, I traveled with my family to Caguas. On the way we passed a strip mall with familiar stores and restaurants: P.F. Changs, Forever 21, Old Navy and Macys. After taking our exit, I found a different set of establishments—small, colorful, one-room mom and pop restaurants and stores of all kinds that lined the streets. While in the United States chain stores are the norm, in Puerto Rico they are the exception.

Traffic patterns also differed greatly. Instead of cars adhering to lanes, traffic lights and using turn signals, I suddenly felt scared for my life: cars and trucks drove like they owned the whole road, turned from the right lane to make left turns without checking for oncoming traffic, and threaded around vehicles without using turn signals. The scariest part: everyone had the same habits, so it was considered normal. On one hand I felt as though I could be back at home in Pennsylvania, on the other I could tell Puerto Rico was still distincly different.

Since we still considered ourselves tourists, we decided to visit the bio-luminescence bay filled with micro-organisms that glow upon impact.

My brother Shivum and I kayaked in the darkness, following the blinking green light of the kayak in front of us, through a windy stream leading to the lagoon; the only available natural light came from the moonlight that occasionally filtered through the mangrove trees that surrounded us. The trees crept up on us as we went around the bends, their roots extending far into the stream like children trying to reach the forbidden cookie jar. As we got closer to the lagoon, Shivum and I paid less attention to our path and more attention to the fact that as our oars hit the water, the miniscule organisms lit up like tiny blue Christmas lights for a fraction of a second.

The trees crept up on us as we went around the bends, their roots extending far into the stream like children trying to reach the forbidden cookie jar. As we got closer to the lagoon, Shivum and I paid less attention to our path and more attention to the fact that as our oars hit the water, the miniscule organisms lit up like tiny blue Christmas lights for a fraction of a second. The result: we ran into the mangrove trees with increasing frequency.

However, I continued to run my hands through the warm water and saw five brief streams of lights, one for each finger, while Shivum continued to paddle. Left, right, left—the rhythmic sound of the paddles cutting through the water. Finally the bay opened up to us, a large expanse surrounded by trees on all sides, the moonlight reflected on the ripples of the otherwise smooth water.

Our tour guide told us to line our kayaks parallel to the others like a long row of popsicles. There, with all the kayaks gently bobbing in the small ripples of the lagoon, he explained the science behind the fascinating organisms: they are found only in fives places around the world and the light comes from the protein luciferin—when the cell walls of the organisms are disturbed (such as by hands or oars), the activated protein emits light. He then compared the microorganisms to lightning bugs. But, while lightning bugs light up in distinct patterns to attract mates, the purpose behind these microorganisms’ glowing is less understood. One theory states that the light is a defense mechanism, however it also raises the question of how lighting up helps protect the microorganisms from predators.

I came out of Puerto Rico with a cultural experience at odds to what I had anticipated. I expected Puerto Rico to be more like the United States, but instead found that the United States’ presence was limited mostly to the commercial sector. I had the opportunity to see both the real and tourist areas of Puerto Rico and realized that the latter share the most resemblance with the United States while the other parts, what I considered the “real” Puerto Rico, seemed more like a separate country.

The effect of globalization slowly creeping in, the difference in language and in driving habits, and the stark difference between how Puerto Ricans and tourists view the small island all contributed to my view of Puerto Rico as distinct from the United States.

© Sonum Bharill May 2013
sbhari01(at)villanova.edu
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