We woke up to the sounds of a band playing at city square. The sound penetrated our earplugs and disturbed what was supposed to be our first jet lag-free night. We didn’t really have any plans, so we decided to try to get to the Indigenous Ceremonial Center, an archaeological site with findings from the local communities that lived on the island prior to the arrival of the Europeans. We couldn’t find anything to eat for the longest time until we found an Italian restaurant where we had some decent pizza. We got lost on our way out of the city, driving through some of the rougher areas, and found ourselves in a park. In hindsight we know this was in the vicinity of the cemetery. Anyway, we parked and went to explore on foot.
We then saw a horse that was tied to a tree. The rope was tied to her neck, but her foot was also entangled in it. This way, her head could not go any higher than her back. She was obviously in distress. On the one hand, we really wanted to help her, but on the other hand, neither of us had ever really dealt with horses, and we were afraid she might panic. Moreover, what if her owner did this to her on purpose, and just as we’re helping her he would pop out of nowhere and beat the shit out of us?
We pet her while I tried to figure out how hard it would be to release her. Then I realized that the rope split and her foot got stuck between the thread. Raising her leg was not easy but I finally managed to get her to help me. I pushed and pulled and all of sudden it worked. “Now we run away” I said in the calmest voice I was able to produce. We walked very quickly to the car and split. “Are you sure you don’t wanna blog about this?” Julia asked as we drove away.
We drove on to the Indigenous Ceremonial Center, but because of all our distractions, by the time we got there the site was closed. We drove back to the city and headed to the beach, where we heard there were supposed to be some things to do, but we found nothing. We were tired and hot, so we stopped in a shopping center where I had my first Cold Stone ice cream. It’s o.k. After that we had a beer in the tiniest bar in the world, just across from the shopping center.
From there we went back to the hotel. The events to commemorate the Ponce Lion Blue marching band would not stop. Now there were some local dance troupes in the city square, featuring some of the tiniest little girls I have ever seen. “Let’s try the beach again,” Julia said. “I don’t think we were in the right place”.
This time we found it. There were merchants selling stupid swag for kids, pimped cars that people had parked in a row to show off, some restaurants, and a few stages where musicians were playing salsa music and a bunch of people were dancing. We sat in one of the restaurants. It had a duo of a guitarist and a female singer playing, and they were really good. We had mofongo, a popular local dish made from fried plantain. I had mine made with shrimp. Julia had hers with the conch she was was so eager to try. She found it meh.
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