There’s More to Northern Puerto Rico than Its Beaches

Puerto Rico is famous for its legendary beaches, but there is a lot more to this little island than idyllic shores. With a pleasing, year-round tropical climate, Puerto Rico offers tasty delicacies not found anywhere else, exciting developments in sustainability, and often-missed, picturesque mountains concealing plenty of adventures for the intrepid traveler.

I knew very little about the island when I arrived in Dorado del Mar, a scenic beach town only a short drive from the capital of San Juan. I checked into my room at Embassy Suites, whose grounds came fully loaded—a fantastic stretch of the coastline with relaxing pools, a seaside bar, and around the corner, a casino and a black-lit bowling alley offering laid-back vibes. I changed out of my flying clothes and followed some music outside to a small booth to meet and mingle with the others from my group. A DJ was playing soothing, on-brand island music next to an intriguing set of coolers, whose insides concealed a colorful mixture of locally grown fruits and vegetables that powered the assortment of cocktails the others had been imbibing for the past hour. I grabbed one sans alcohol at random and was trying to figure out the combined flavors when I noticed a bit of strange gesturing in the corner of my eye. A chef was using a wooden mortar to mash an unseen substance, and after a few moments, he turned it upside down to reveal a perfectly cylindrical specimen of mofongo. A local Puerto Rican delicacy created from mashed plantains and whose taste isn’t very far removed from potatoes, the chef sprinkled some seasoning on it and handed it to me. After a few tasty bites, a mortar of my own was placed into my hands along with some plantains and I went to work. Before I knew it, I flipped the device and dumped out my very own mofongo, dusted it with some of the seasoning to give it a kick, and washed down my creation with the rest of my fruity mocktail. The soft glow of sunset was beginning to arrive by this point, so we followed up the meet and greet with dinner at Bocaito, which served fresh Caribbean seafood and locally made wine to round out our first foray into the local cuisine. Not bad, Puerto Rico.

A lot of the meals at Bocaito were prepared with local ingredients. The tropical climate in Puerto Rico allows pretty much anything to grow, and in the wake of the devastation of Hurricane Maria in 2017, sustainability has been on the rise. The next day saw a visit to Frutos del Guacabo, a local farm whose offerings can be found at many restaurants on the island. The farm, where the bleating of goats and the sight of roaming chickens and rabbits greeted us as we pulled in, was a bustling complex surrounded by an outcropping of rocks where I could see wayward animals lounging in some shade. There were rows of plots with every type of green plant imaginable amongst the numerous greenhouses, each containing an impressive arrangement of hydroponic systems growing worlds of innumerable emerald, yellow, purple, and orange bits of flora. Our tour began with a short walk up the very driveway we had just come in on, where I was surprised to learn that the unassuming plants we had driven by on arrival each had a specific purpose on the farm—one to block wind, others to replenish the soil, and yet another to ward off critters from nibbling on the produce. We stopped at each for a sample—there was pink amaranth swaying carefree in the wind alongside peppers, tomatoes, eggplants, and squash. We tried some pak choi, bitter turmeric roots, sweet coriander, and tart curry leaf, some indigenous to places as far away as China and India. After shoving various bits of these roadside plants in my mouth, a peculiar, miniature popcorn-looking yellow flower called a “lemon drop” was placed in my palm. I knew something was up when I popped it in my mouth and saw an amused glance come over our hosts’ faces. Suddenly, my mouth lit up with a peculiar electric, buzzing sensation and a bizarre, metallic flavor that came in waves until finally dissipating moments later. I learned afterward that the lemon drop is used as a palette cleanser that would be our amusing segue into lunch.

The meal, where everything in sight was made fresh right on the farm, was a veritable smorgasbord—rice with chicken, stewed beans, house salad with homemade vinaigrette, fruits, wine, and a flan bruleé for dessert. After finishing this lovely meal and exploring the premises, I rounded a corner to encounter the surprise sight of a farm worker milking a goat. I had never seen somebody do this before, and after watching intently as he gradually filled a small metallic tin with dairy, he shot a glance my way and gestured me over to try it. I sat down but wasn’t expecting the abrupt confusion that came over me upon having a squishy udder placed in my hands. I was slightly apprehensive about squeezing bits of random animal and worried it might cause pain to the goat, so I let out a feeble tug and heard silence. After a few moments of awkwardly sitting there with a goat in my lap and with a stupefied look on my face, the farmer helpfully adjusted my grip, gave me a few encouraging words, and I was somewhat surprised when I then heard the jet of milk splash against the side of the tin after applying a little pressure. The bored, nonplussed look on the goat’s face gave me the confidence to continue. After a few rounds of pilfering the animal of its sweet dairy, I eventually found the whole activity meditative. I encouraged the others in my group to try it next, finding amusement as I watched them go through the same process of bafflement into fascination that I did.

Hurricane Maria was a watershed moment for Puerto Rico. In addition to the widespread destruction and spurring developments in sustainability, the storm also revealed a few surprises. At Roca Norte outdoor climbing gym in nearby Monserrate, walls once hidden by a thick snarl of vegetation were unexpectedly revealed in all their craggy glory after the storm swept the veil of brush away. The gym itself, literally located in a house’s backyard, offered an impressive selection of routes. The porous limestone, perfect for climbing with plenty of nooks for hands and feet, presented difficulties for beginners up to more seasoned climbers. Each successful journey to the top also came with the bonus of a pleasing vantage point over the surrounding valley. As a yoga teacher who had recently gotten into bouldering, I was eager to see how I would fare. We reviewed basic climbing knots and terminology and then strapped on our helmets and harnesses. We then took turns going up the beginner path, snapping dramatic selfies and congratulating each other as we each rang the little bell at the top declaring a victorious climb.

After being told I made this first route “look easy,” I was encouraged to attempt the more challenging walls. I indulged my curiosity, tied myself in, and was quickly stunned by how deceiving looks could be when assessing these new climbs. Each was a genuine puzzle to be analyzed and solved, despite looking relatively simple and clear-cut at first glance with their numerous visible crags seemingly good for a grip. I made it about a quarter of the way up the first of these more challenging choices before I was abruptly stumped by a protruding edifice above me, daring me to pass with its scant places for hands and feet and lack of mobility left and right. I had to step back and take things inch by inch, each gain revealing more opportunities until I finally conquered it, only for the next protruding obstacle immediately above to laugh in my face. Ignoring the tired signals from my legs and arms, I made it to the top after considerable effort, flailing my arm at the bell and making sure to conceal my exhaustion to look as badass as possible for my selfie before rappelling back down.