Member-only story
The Traveling
How travel changes us
“Time is an illusion.”― Albert Einstein
“Where you guys from?” I said awkwardly, leaning against a stubby palm tree while sipping a Cuba Libre on Playa de Pueblo.
“Here — ,” a younger cool-surfer-looking guy said, “San Juan, going to school near here.”
“Fun,” I said awkwardly. “Beach tennis is a great game isn’t it?”
“Si — yes.”
Paul and I had been watching his group play beach tennis (rather jealously I might add), as a mix of beautiful, brown-bodied, dark-haired women and their counterparts spread out drinking and sunbathing behind the beach tennis court.
“Do you guys have class in San Juan or just on holiday?”
“We’re taking a lunch break from med school for some party, ” he said, with a thick Spanish accent, walking back towards his beach tennis partner.
“Well, me llamo Trevor,” I said, smiling.
“Me llamo Jose.”
“Mucho gusto.”
It was just my third day in the Caribbean and my sense of joy and gratitude for traveling through Puerto Rico had finally settled into me. I felt I was living in a time paradox, a place of duality where the human experience and time bent towards a clearer sense of feeling alive.
