NEW YEAR IN PUERTO RICO
A winter in Europe that isn’t really getting going and two people who are yearning for some sun after a pretty intense year. So: get out the world map and see what’s realistic for a 10-day escape from grey dreariness! We were pretty flexible with the destination and both knew what we didn’t want: lots of tourists. The flight prices to the sun are mostly outrageously expensive, especially around the turn of the year, and you have to do a lot of research to find something realistic. In the end, we somehow ended up in Puerto Rico, which was new territory for both of us and seemed pretty nice from stories told by friends. From the perspective of a graffiti writer, I only knew the many pictures of the homies Kems, Geser & Co. who seemed to be on the island regularly. The 1UPs were also in San Juan a few weeks earlier and what I picked up online looked fantastic. And you might hardly believe it: Shortly before Christmas, we had also booked our flights for December 28th. As always, it was a close call, but it could only be good. San Juan is the capital of the US territory of Puerto Rico, its most important seaport, and the industrial, economic, cultural, and tourist center of the island. The old town in particular, with its countless colorful houses from the Spanish colonial era and sights from the 16th century, is really impressive – even if the prices make it clear that you are in a tourist hotspot. The original recipe for the Piña Colada comes from here, by the way. We naturally had a look around and found it incredibly beautiful. The traces of the 1UPs (especially in San Cristòbal) are definitely not to be missed, and that brings us back to the topic: Where can I get cans? Homie TRACE, who has been living in Puerto Rico for some time, invited me on a date and immediately recommended a classic hardware store where I found a good range of NBQs. Unfortunately, other brands are very difficult to get in Puerto Rico, which is mostly due to US customs duties. I got on really well with Trace from the start. A really hospitable guy, a gifted style writer and of course (as befits a real American) professionally equipped. Trace had organized a fairly large wall for us away from the center and we spent a really lovely day somewhere in the middle of nowhere. We also got a lot of tips and information about the country and its people, the do’s and don’ts.
From San Juan we went on a little road trip towards the island of Vieques, where we wanted to spend the last day of the old year and the first days of the new year. Shortly before the ferry port (we left the rental car there) I spotted some really beautiful spots that were apparently easy to paint during the day. The trunk was full of leftover cans and there was still plenty of time left…I thought I could still have a quick smoke at sunset. Ultimately, it was a place that took some getting used to, as I quickly realized that I was being watched by a large pack of wild dogs. I am a dog lover and have absolutely no fear of these creatures. But when 15 or 20 fairly large dogs suddenly start barking and come running in my direction in absolute silence, you get back in the car and analyze the situation. After a few minutes I decided on action – but more in slow motion. My wife preferred the passenger seat with the doors closed. Vieques is a wonderful island with a Caribbean flair, magical beaches, wild horses, colorful iguanas and… great spots for painting. I wanted to leave at least one piece here. And there was this abandoned baseball stadium on the edge of town, which smiled at me and always seemed to call out: Paint me! Of course I couldn’t miss that. So: I looked for the entrance, drove in, parked the car inconspicuously and painted a top spot. What I didn’t know was that someone was watching my activities from the street and apparently called the race management. As I was about to paint a second quick crew piece, a small column of 3 cars and 2 motorcycles – all equipped with blue lights – suddenly parked in front of me and a lot of uniformed US cops stood around me. Naturally a little agitated inside – but quite relaxed on the outside – I answered their questions about what I was doing here. I pointed out the many tags and some bad pieces inside the building and my assumption that this was OK. The usual good cop/bad cop game followed. One thought it was kind of cool, the other thought it was crap. After my personal details were taken, we were allowed to leave the scene. It’s not really a big deal, but you never know how the local law enforcement officers will react. So for me the first rule is: stay friendly and communicate that you came in peace to do something nice. Well…sometimes it works…sometimes you get a kick in the ass. Here it was a mixture of both. I still managed to get a good photo.
1.954 / 5.000
Back on the main island, there was another stop to follow: the far northwest with a lot of fantastic beaches and surf spots. But as my cans were running low, I needed some more. Trace had put me in touch with an ex-marine who is retired and apparently runs a private graffiti shop in Aguadilla. The address given was in the middle of a pretty chic housing development. I rang the doorbell and suddenly the roller door of a double garage opened. Inside was a fully equipped shop with everything a writer’s heart could desire. If you’re nearby: check out the KSA787 shop! I stocked up on some more material, because right on the coast there are the RUINAS URBANAS DE AGUADILLA – a kind of open-air gallery for guys like me who want to paint a picture in a fantastic spot with a sea view.
Far away from all these luxury adventures, there was another experience that really grounded me and affected us: While walking on the beach, we spotted a stranded wooden boat in the distance that we really wanted to take a look at. When we arrived at the makeshift construction (approx. 8m long), we quickly realized that it was a refugee boat, because inside there were a few life jackets, scraps of clothing and water containers. These boats (mostly from Haiti or the Dominican Republic) probably land on this stretch of coast almost every day. At that moment, so many questions popped into my head: How many people were in here? Did they all make it? How many children were there? … But the main question is: How desperate do you have to be to set out on the open ocean in such a vehicle with a lot of other people in the hope of a better life? With a depressing feeling, we walked back to our beautiful apartment and spent our last evening there.
