My Love Letter to Puerto Rico

A short reflection of lessons learned on the island

By Florencia Loncán

Can you be homesick for a place away from home?

We’re back in the real world now. That’s the phrase we have all been saying to each other since returning to Carroll Hall. There is a beauty in time standing still, and that is exactly how it felt when we were in Puerto Rico. On countless occasions, the question was shouted into the air with the hope that anyone would be able to accurately respond:

 “What day is it?”

We lost track of time. Our days were packed, with some of us waking up before sunrise and not resting our eyes until past midnight.

I learned so much throughout this experience. For one, I conducted interviews entirely in Spanish, something I had continuously doubted I was capable of. Were they perfect? Absolutely not. However, every person I interacted with during our trip was patient, understanding, and overall appreciative that I was trying to communicate in a language they were more comfortable with. Being Latina has always been a large part of my identity, but as someone who has lived most of my life in the U.S., I have always felt insecure about my fluency in the Spanish language.

When I met Enrique Paoli, a 64-year-old surfer participating in a beach camp protest in El Escambrón, I was anxious about my abilities as a Spanish speaker and a reporter. But as I spent multiple days, many of which started bright and early at 6 a.m., speaking with Enrique and others protesting development on the beach for the sake of the environment, I felt like I truly belonged. I learned that reporting is not just about asking the right questions about your topic of interest. It’s getting to know the people you are interviewing on a deeper level. While I did ask Enrique about his reasons for camping on the beach as a way to protest, I also asked about his life before he spent his days waking up by the water. I learned that he was not only a surfer but a musician and a professor as well. As the days passed, I no longer felt like I was reporting on a character; I was telling the story of a friend.

So, Puerto Rico, this is my love letter to you.

Nunca podría haber esperado esto. I couldn’t have expected this. Thank you for welcoming us with open arms. To all the people who opened their hearts to us, thank you for trusting us to tell your stories. In my short time on the island, I have learned so much about myself and what I am capable of.

I landed back in RDU on Saturday afternoon after a 10-hour travel day. At that point in time, I had never craved the comfort of my own bed more in my life. Now four days after our return, I’d give so much to be back on the edge of Escambrón Beach, sand on my feet, listening to Enrique talk about the evolution of Bad Bunny’s music while a tilapia dinner cooks over the fire.

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