Puerto Rico and the Break I Needed

I hope everyone can say their honeymoon was perfect. I sure can. As one who can sometimes be a teensy bit of a perfectionist (don't roll your eyes at me!), I honestly couldn't have planned a better vacation.

let's live here

I had a seven-month wedding engagement and delegating is not one of my strengths, so the vast majority of wedding planning and projects fell to me, with my fiancé and mom helping out when I allowed it. I'm not complaining, though; goals, projects, to-do lists, deadlines…these are my forte. I thrived during those seven months.

But let's be real: after months of diy blogs and deadlines, shopping trips and spreadsheets, thank-you notes and late nights, whiteboards covered in scribbles and sticky-notes––a girl (and probably everyone around her) needs a break.

DESTINATION: PUERTO RICO

I had never considered visiting Puerto Rico and that's part of what made it so perfect: because I didn't know anything about it––its history, geography, attractions––I didn't feel any pressure to go, see, and experience anything. I didn't feel any pressure at all. (In contrast, if we went to, say, Italy for our honeymoon, it would've been crammed with reference books and rants about the brilliance of Brunelleschi, along with lists of necessary destinations and expenses. My poor husband and I would've had no rest.)

So with a handful of travel pamphlets tucked into our backpacks, we stepped off the plane late on a humid Puerto Rican night. Our rental car wheezed like a wind-up toy as we navigated the dark roads, both of us laughing over a hilarious checklist of crazy things to look for while driving in Puerto Rico (It was totally accurate, btw!).

We had a condo on the 21st floor, which included an equipped kitchen, a balcony overlooking the ocean, aaaand a laundry room, plus plenty of beach and pool gear! How perfect is that?! (Disclaimer: normally I wouldn't really care about having a kitchen––except to keep ice cream in the freezer––but when you're married to a chef, kitchens become a great asset.)

yes, this wife has scored big time

Throughout our week in Puerto Rico, I perpetually basked in the blissful feeling each day of knowing I didn't have to do…anything. What a change of pace after the wedding! My life went from hectic to a holiday. Each day we might wander down to the beach or the pool, go snorkeling, spend a while dozing in the lawn chairs, go back to the condo to eat and lounge on the balcony. Each evening our weather app projected rain for the following day, and each morning we awoke to sunshine. Everything was close-by, from our church to the grocery store to the rainforest.

That's not to say we didn't do anything in Puerto Rico.

Blake has always wanted to see a bioluminescent bay, where the water is said to sparkle and glow. This is caused by organisms in the water, which, when stirred, light up. We found a tour company online and plugged their address into our GPS (a futile act, since not once did our GPS take us to the correct location and we always had to drive around for a while before finding our destination). I was skeptical of our probability of seeing the bioluminescence––the pictures online were clearly taken with a long exposure––but, as dusk approached, I dutifully geared up in my life-vest and slogged through thigh-deep harbor water (just don't think about it) in order to scramble––gracefully––into our kayak.

day four of no makeup (and he still loves me!?)

following the pink glow sticks was not so easy for some

The instructions were basic: listen to your partner and follow the kayaks with pink glow sticks. We trailed our guide through the harbor, then wound through a mangrove swamp slashed with shadows, eventually emerging out into the bay just as the moon rose. Our guides spent a while attempting to amuse us, while I attempted to stay clear of my fellow explorers, who––despite the fact that we were, like, not supposed to be moving, still managed to keep running into each other––and Blake kept splashing the water, in hopes of seeing the lights.

Eventually, he did.

I didn't have my camera, and my phone couldn't capture anything in the dark, but the best way I'd describe the bioluminescence is like sparks floating through the water. Or little fireflies. They lit up wherever you touched the water, streaming out behind each kayak.

Overall, the whole week was amazing: a perfect blend of laid-back lounging, easy-going adventuring, and fabulous food. The days were bright and breezy while each night, the wind would stretch the clouds out over the ocean, causing our curtains to sway. The crickets would begin to hum while the waves rolled across the sand. And, some nights, you could hear the thunder murmuring quietly in the distance.

on our way home with my new hoodie and husband

The Obligatory New Jersey Post

FUN FACT: In 2015, YouGov conducted a survey in which US citizens were asked about their opinions of each state. The results were––in my opinion––hilarious: New Jersey is the least liked state in the United States of America. In fact, it is the only state which receives an overall negative opinion.

I was born in New Jersey. That's where my family has lived for generations. And so, as my husband and I pack our little car for the west coast, I find myself feeling obligated to compose some thoughts on living here in this lovely, humid, unfriendly, taxed-to-death state.

My family's farmhouse in rural New Jersey

As soon as I tell people I'm from Jersey, I cringe as I hear the classic reply: "Oh, from Joisey, huh?" or "That's funny. Where's your accent?"

Let's clarify a few things. First of all, New Jersey is unofficially split into two sections by its residents: South Jersey, which is basically a rural suburb of Philly, and North Jersey, which is basically an industrial suburb of NYC. The infamous "Joisey Accent" is actually a creature of New York––yes, guys, Snooki grew up in New York, not New Jersey––and is really not that prevalent in South Jersey.

(If you want to hear the quintessential South Jersey accent, simply ask a resident to say the word "water" and you've got it.)

Now, back to the first point. Despite being looked down upon, residents of New Jersey are pretty proud of their hard-nosed way of life. "Only the Strong Survive" is their defiant motto. People don't smile much here, and their sense of humor––if you want to call it that––is mostly sarcasm. I was born in Jersey, spent some of my childhood there, then escaped with my family to Florida, where I picked up on a few Southern tendencies, like smiling at strangers. In my late teens, however, my family moved back to South Jersey and it became my home base until––booyah––I got married.

CONFESSION TIME: despite my heritage, I am not a Jersey Girl. I simply don't like it here. The weather consists of hot, muggy Summers; short Autumns and Springs; and gray, cold, rainy Winters. Cost of living is high: everything requires a permit (even visiting the shore), rent is high, taxes are high, toll roads are everywhere. People are generally bossy, informal, blunt and assertive (and proud of it). Everything is regulated and against the law. Yup, this place is just not my scene.

The same family farmhouse in rural New Jersey

However, South Jersey isn't all bad. There's a lot of charm to be found here, if you know where to look. I've lived in the suburbs and the countryside, and both can possess an old-fashioned, small-town feel. Rolling fields of corn sway under overcast skies, the mailman walks from house to house, and––no matter where you live––you can stroll down to one of the many parks and feed the ducks (jk that's against the law now) or picnic (I LOVE picnicking). Plus, there's tons of American history, and it's convenient to live within driving distance of several large cities (Philly, NYC, Boston and DC, to name a few). Also did I mention all the corn fields?

Meeting with Gen Washington after a Christmas Day reenactment of crossing the Delaware River

Corn, corn, corn! Nuthin' but corn!

And, of course, there's Wawa. Wawa is the world's greatest convenience store. All Jerseyans will swear by it. They have the best hoagies and soft pretzels, and I will miss them dearly when I leave.

So, if you ever visit (or, heaven forbid, move to New Jersey), here are a few things to remember:

- Prepare to be honked at. Trust me, it will happen.
- Have extra cash on hand for
   a) all the tolls you might accidentally encounter
   b) the adorable little farm stands with fresh produce at fabulous prices
- DON'T TRAVEL IN THE LEFT LANE. The left lane is for passing.
- Watch out for all the deer.

Also, some jargon:
- It's The Shore, not the beach.
- They're jimmies, not sprinkles.
- Call it a hoagie, not a sub.

Aaaand, last but not least, South Jersey is the only place outside of Philadelphia where you can get a decent Philly Cheesesteak. If you are anywhere else and you encounter one, it's a fraud––okay?