There and Back Again

Moving from and back to Puerto Rico

Moving is not for the faint of heart.

Moving overseas even less so.

Doing it to and from Puerto Rico? Well, that’s just being masochistic, isn’t it?

Why, yes. Yes, it was. Still, we’re back home.

It’s been a full year since we returned to Puerto Rico and if anything is ridiculously clear, it’s that a lot can happen in a year. Good, bad, in between, random, predictable, surprising, good, bad, unexpected, and more. In other words, life continues to be life. Some people have asked if it’s been hard to adapt to life back on the Island and curiously, there’s been little need to adapt. After all, it’s home…even with all its quirks, inefficiencies, and randomness.

To make it clear, it was easier to get on a plane to visit Puerto Rico than it was to get on a plane to head back to Atlanta. Sure, we lived and enjoyed our time there, but although it had our mailing address and that apartment was our little nest, it wasn’t home in the sense that Puerto Rico is. Case in point, December 2024 was one of the most miserable return trips out of Puerto Rico I’ve ever had. Three months later we were back on the Island, looking for an apartment, and making intense decisions in record time. Time constraints were real and we navigated those waters quite well considering the ask and the conditions.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

We lived almost nine years in Georgia. That’s no chump change. That’s almost a decade. There, we met new people, got to know other people better, explored a bit, and found and modified our routine throughout our tenure. One thing’s for sure, being a surfer means that a 4+ hour commute to and from the beach means that you’re pretty much landlocked. Some people will say that a four-hour commute isn’t that long. I counter that with the fact that if you drive for four hours in Puerto Rico, you’ll cover at least half the Island, and this is factoring in lights, traffic, and the whole shebang. Plus, regardless of anyone else’s experience, my lower back says that four-hour commutes are not a good idea. Also, those four and a half hours would get you to Tybee Beach, which isn’t exactly a surfing mecca.

All things said though, life in Georgia was often very convenient. While people complain about the DMV, my experience was superb all four times I had to go, and I went to three different offices. Oh, it was also very fun having to take written and practical driving tests to get my Georgia license. (Insert sarcasm here). Still, setting up water, power, internet, etc. was straightforward, easy, and sometimes even pleasant. When you live in Puerto Rico, getting your utilities set up can be its own Choose-Your-Adventure, which is why we get water from one town, power from another, and internet from a third…and no, I’m not joking.

In the ATL we had a Costco 3 minutes away, three well stocked supermarkets close by, walking trails down the hill, and a variety of restaurants we made our own. Curiously, if something wasn’t nearby, odds are it was about half an hour away, traffic permitting. If traffic was NOT playing nice, I hope you have good music.

But if anything was abundant, it was convenience and variety, in food, wares, and concerts. Lord, you need a second job just to afford all the shows you want to go to. During our time there we saw Pearl Jam, Muse, Counting Crows, Paul Simon, Matchbox 20, IDLES, Soundgarden, Nine Inch Nails, Bon Jovi, Jarabe de Palo, Radiohead, Norah Jones, Bryan Addams, Smashing Pumpkins, and I’m sure I’m missing a few.

Apart from those adventures, it was also the first time my wife and I properly experienced and enjoyed the four seasons. This tidbit always takes people by surprise, because they haven’t lived on a tropical Island in the Caribbean.

When you live in Puerto Rico, it’s summer pretty much all the time. When I moved to Georgia, people asked me how we were handling the heat and humidity and I always had to chuckle. It wasn’t until 2022 or 2023 where we got a summer where I said out loud…damn it’s hot. Never complained about it, because I can handle the heat.

Winter however…it’s charming for about two weeks…maybe.

Having been born and raised in the Caribbean, I’ve experienced plenty of heat and know what it is to come out of the shower and start sweating seconds after you’ve literally just washed up. But to experience “cold” on the Island, you need to go to the mountains to find forty-degree weather in the wintertime. Even then, it’s not a guarantee you’ll get that. You need cloudy skies and a strong cold front to get a chill in PR. This means you can surf the year round and actually, Fall and Winter months are the best for waves. As for Georgia, I have to take my hat off to the Fall season. Driving in Atlanta and going to trails and botanical gardens during this season is a feast for the eyes. Also, Fall flavors are my favorite. Alas, Fall is never a guarantee at least in Georgia because there was one particular year where the season lasted what, less than three weeks? Maybe. It went from hot and dry and hot and drier to Fall for a couple of days to entice you with the best the year has to offer, to winter…and a gray, miserable, and long winter it was. The groundhog did us dirty and then some.

Navigating the seasons was something altogether new and it was interesting, but winter can suck it. Having to layer up to venture out and then strip down to have a meal, to suit back up, and do that multiple times in one day is not something I miss. I also don’t miss the dry skin, sinus adventures, and other aspects of the season. Oh, and it’s insane how rude people get on and off the road once Thanksgiving gets near. I had multiple people shut an elevator in my face, cut me off, and generally be crappy, just because people weren’t feeling it. As for snow, we got flurries here and there though proper snow only once and I’ll admit, it was gorgeous…even though the melting slush after was not. But it was still interesting to see how the seasons impacted what we could do and what we felt like doing. And quite often that included eating.

I mention that because in our first winter in Atlanta, I experienced something I’d never experienced before. I found that magically, my pants were a little tighter and that I had multiple weight scales “malfunctioning” on me. If you see pictures of me in winter of 2016, you’ll see my cheeks are a bit more generous than usual. I didn’t top 200 lbs. but I was getting there and for a while, I went up a pant size. That’s when I realized I needed to adjust my lifestyle since in Puerto Rico I have the benefit of 2-3 hour surf sessions that help keep me relatively in shape. That means I started going to the gym, walking, and trying different things.

Does that also mean I bulked up on one occasion? Yes. Does that mean my body was confused? Oh, hell yes. I remember going to the gym, hitting the weights and I’d worked up to doing my workouts with 35 lbs. weights for the whole routine and sometimes going for 40-45 lbs. for certain exercises. Then I came to visit Puerto Rico, went for a surf, and realized I didn’t know how to maneuver the extra bulk and I realized I’m not built for muscle and mass. A bit of a belly? Sure. But bulking up made me feel awkward and so I decided to switch up my approach yet again. I leaned out and when I started to do cardio, well you’d see me in the surf in Puerto Rico swimming full tilt most of the session and people would be like, “Dude, are you OK?” And I’m like, no. I’m not. I need waveeees… Going left!!!!! WOAHHHHH!!!!

But looking back, I had a solid year and change before things got complicated.

First, Hurricane María happened and for every Puerto Rican, there’s life before and after María. The Island is still recovering in terms of infrastructure and all the collateral damage that brought. After that, I had a couple of extra months before the best job I’ve ever had transformed into a war of attrition due to boss changes and other things. Then in 2019 Mom passed away and that was another milestone moment of life before and after an event. Then there was this little thing about an outbreak in 2020. You might remember it. To say my time in the states was complicated is at the same time sugarcoating it and overhyping it. I had major life changes, but compared to other people, I had it easy. I’m well aware of how many times I was fortunate for the circumstances and the hands dealt to me. Were there rough times? Let’s say yes and not dwell on them right now.

What I can say is that for nine years, the Walton Riverwood Complex was our home and we grew to love our home. Imagine not wanting to leave any place you call home and being desperate for some sort of footing just so you can make sense of the world. That’s where we were.

The decision to come back was made for the right reasons: family. We were happy to close that chapter, though even when you’re happy and comfortable with your decision, that doesn’t make uprooting any easier.

The move brought so many challenges…but we focused and pushed through. 78 boxes sent via mail. One car sent overseas. A moving sale where you saw the best and worst of people. Some people kind enough to drop some coin our way for a bargain for a bed, a TV, a table…and stragglers and hagglers that make a sport out of someone else’s trauma, all in the name of a deal. But still, help is help and by the end, we left the apartment bare…naked…empty.

It was unsettling.

Necessary? Of course.

But that doesn’t mean it was easy or pleasant.

Then we get here and start with the adventures of setting up our new nest. Adventures with the power grid were expected. Adventures with three ACs were not. The adventures of getting utilities up was also unexpected. Power was the easiest and for all the bad press the local power supplier rightfully gets, I’ll admit that setup was easy. To set up water, we had to get an appointment, which was our first taste of Island living. The transfer of driver’s licenses was as smooth as sandpaper coated with shards of glass. I got the extremes, having one of the rudest people I’ve come across in years in one exchange and having one of the nicest most service-oriented people ever to help me. Then the Internet………………….it took me a month and a half to set up. This included one failed attempt with one dumpster fire of a company, and then one eventual appointment to get the Internet up and running.

Then we got a bed, some furniture, and in a year’s time, it’s started to feel like home is getting closer. But remember, life is an adventure. This current episode in this season of life has also included a layoff, another job, and a switch to freelance work in advertising and with other writers. So, more adjusting, because life lessons in patience don’t wait for you to be ready. They just arrive.

Still, people ask me if it’s been hard to be back in Puerto Rico, especially with all that’s happened in the last year. The simple answer is no. In the year I’ve been back, I’ve been to book events for several author friends, have had two events of my own, participated in the Puerto Rico Comic Con, joined the board of a local writing association, gone to five other book festivals, given a chat to students, and started sending Estrada Crates to readers again. I did March of the Writers in English and Spanish and connected with a ton of new people. I got invited to my first ever radio interview as an author. I’ve surfed more in a year than the nine years before I moved back. I’ve seen family members I hadn’t seen in years, reconnected with a lot of old friends, made a bunch of new friends in the author community, and have enjoyed being back with friends, with family, with the waves, and with the challenges that are unique to this beautiful Island.

There are struggles. There are challenges. There are worries. But there is Puerto Rico…and Puerto Rico is home. It was always home. It will always be home. I may not have hosted a party of dwarves or set out on an adventure that led me to a magical ring and a fight with a dragon…but we went to Atlanta and are back home again. And every day we confirm it was the best decision ever.

Here’s to the next adventure and my thanks to all you kind readers for the support in the last year. This isn’t a massive Substack, though it exists for and because of you. To more shared adventures and exploring our creativity and humanity organically…and back on home turf.

Peace, love, and maki rolls.

-JD