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Giving The Finger To Colonialism
How Puerto Rico ignited my fighting spirit.
It should've been the other way around.
Puerto Ricans — especially locals living in La Perla — have been shit on for generations. They still suffer the pains inflicted by old and new colonialistic assholes. They still yearn for their political freedom snatched away more than 500 years ago. Yet their optimistic vibe is infectious and lit me up when I visited. I didn't expect that.
La Perla had no business being joyful.
I was in a slummy mood and wanted to hang with others down on their luck. I flew to Puerto Rico for that reason. Given La Perla's oppressive history, I figured it'd be the perfect place to mope around in. I started with an arrogant view of La Perla, drinking beers in a bar in walled-off Old San Juan high atop the destitute but colorful rooftops and pulsing energy below.
They say geography is your fate. I'm sure if La Perla wasn’t born alongside 650 yards of rocky, resplendent, heart-aching Atlantic coastline, it would've disappeared long ago.
Most tourist sites warned against hanging out in La Perla. Locals might be pissed at your presence: visit at your own risk if you choose to. It's all I needed to hear. I slammed my sixth beer, settled up, and…
