I’m recapping week one of my travels while stuck at Heathrow International in London, where I’m transiting onto my next destination, which I’m extremely excited for. Here’s a bit of what happened in Puerto Rico. Follow me on my social mediums to see more pics and videos.

Thursday, January 13, 2022

To live…

While passing the many Islands we flew over en route, I wondered who owns each of them. The photos below are just a few. I’d say there were roughly 10 to 15 between Miami and Puerto Rico. Some had a landing strip, maybe for a billionaire’s G6 or Falcon jet.

And now I can’t wait to get one of those. A jet that is.

This planet has an abundance of land, and once you understand that, you’re ready to comprehend the incomprehensible measures of the oceans.

Next to a small part of that ocean is Castillo San Felipe del Morro—a historic fort that protected Puerto Rico’s harbor entrance. There’s also sister forts along the north shores, which are much smaller but were built for rapid defense purposes.

There’s also lizards.

To laugh…

A five minute walk southeast of that castle/fort is Old Town San Juan. That’s where we lived, laughed, partied with tourists and Puerto Ricans while drinking lots of rum. No hangovers by the way. Could that be because of the sun? Maybe it’s the natural sugars? Or maybe it’s me living my beast life, because I ran twice through San Juan, singing and doing what I do on my runs.

And then there’s La Perla, with love.

It’s north of Old Town San Juan, where police warn tourists not to go. The locals don’t want the neighborhood commercialized, therefore it’s not much I care to tell about this area other than this sign below—and that we partied down there four nights in a row.

Bruh man in the photo above isn’t me. I got much longer hair. He’s a homie from DC we met along with a group from Brooklyn and Detroit.

And so, according to Papi, he’s doing something many tourists do and end up out there where the waves are crashing up on the rocks.

Yep. That’s La Perla and its love for its preservation. Carmelo Anthony’s basketball court is as far as tourists can get with taking photos down there.

So don’t come around the area with that camera and selfie shit, otherwise, you won’t have a good time…

Anyways…As I venture breath by breath, step by step, and day by day, I recall some people suggesting that I’m living the dream. But in order to dream you must be sleep, right? I rather put it in a way that shows I’m pursuing my true path, like a lion who’s been caged and now living out its true primitive instincts in the jungle.

And to be honest, I once daydreamt to travel, write, and see the world. But never did I envision sleeping in two different airports two nights straight. And that’s not even the half of it so I gotta stop there before it pisses me off again…

Now you understand that with every dream, comes a nightmare. With that said, maybe my true path is to relentlessly smile through the abundance of life’s heartbreaking lessons, and joyous adventures.

Much how the ocean will always wave on beaches, and us humans will stay curiously dreaming.

Sincerely, TravelBudd (TK)