Most summers, my family and I vacation in Ocean City — the other Ocean City, that is. New Jersey. Since my kids were small, that’s been our place. A nice, friendly, family-oriented beach town with little in common with its Maryland namesake other than a boardwalk, sand and, of course, the Atlantic. That’s not putting down either O.C. They both have their own charms and allure.

But last year, after withstanding several seasons of our kids’ kvetching that we always spend our vacations at the same place and never travel anywhere “exotic,” we decided to blow their minds and actually hop on a plane for our annual R&R excursion. Even as we booked flights and hotels, they didn’t seem to really believe us. But when we landed in Puerto Rico, they saw we weren’t bluffing (even though they expressed some dismay when realizing we weren’t actually leaving U.S. territory).

Looking back on that trip, I feel a little bit like Roman Vishniac, the celebrated photographer who took unforgettable snapshots of Central and Eastern European Jewish life shortly before World War II. I know that might sound a little sacrilegious or self-aggrandizing. But unbeknownst to us, my family and I were witnesses to the final moments of a Puerto Rico that sadly, in many respects, is no more.

It’s still astonishing to me that some of the most lovely and precious natural wonders that we saw during our trip — such as the El Yunque National Forest and the Bioluminescent Bay near the town of Fajardo — are mere remnants of what they once were. You’ll recall that Hurricane Maria hit Puerto Rico last September with a swift and punishing ferocity from which the Caribbean island still has not recovered (despite a lot of noble work conducted by FEMA and the helpful paper towels tossed by our commander in chief).

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The hurricane arrived only about six weeks after we finished our grand tour of the island, from the colorful tchotchke shops and fabulous bistros of Old San Juan to the low-key beach town of Luquillo along the northeast coast, and across the island to the northwestern surfing community of Rincon.

Naturally, we were awestruck by all of the lush beauty on such a relatively compact island. One particularly wonderful memory was a side trip to an off-the-beaten-path spot with the quirky nomenclature of “Crash Boat Beach,” where swimming and snorkeling with schools of tropical fish require a mere leap off an old, rusty pier into the bluest of seas.

But what really impressed us was the kindness and graciousness of Puerto Rico’s people, who truly seem to know how to savor life and enjoy good times with family and friends. Everywhere we went, we were greeted by friendly faces.

As I watched post-hurricane news reports, I couldn’t help but feel deep concern and empathy for those beautiful, gentle souls we met along our journey. Did they and their families survive the storm? How will their lives ever be the same again? How will they rebuild their homes and island?

What I’ve learned from this experience is we can’t hesitate to roam to these places of wonder and beauty in our midst. The process of traveling reminds us of how fleeting time can be. “Twenty years from now, you will be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do than by the ones you did,” Mark Twain suggested. “Catch the trade winds in your sail. Explore. Dream. Discover.”

Enjoy our annual Travel Issue, and always remember Mr. Twain’s sage advice.

Warmly,
Alan Feiler

 

 

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