An American Abroad

The Distinguished Gentlemen’s Ride on Calle Loíza

One of the joys of living in San Juan is that there is no shortage of scenes. There’s a street art scene, a rat rod scene, a food truck scene, a Jeep scene, a punk scene, a cocktail scene, a surfing scene, a baseball scene — and a motorcycle scene. That last was on full display last Sunday.

I was enjoying Sunday brunch at Tresbé on Calle Loíza when I heard the basso profundo throb of big bikes — a whole lot of them heading east. I grabbed my camera and started shooting. As the first motorcycle came into focus, I immediately knew what I was seeing. It was the Distinguished Gentleman’s Ride, a global event where men (and a few women) get dressed in their dapper finery and ride to raise money for prostate cancer research and other worthy causes.

There was an eclectic mix of motorcycles: Japanese, American, European, Indian, choppers, boulevard cruisers, and cafe racers.

This being the Caribbean, some people took the dress code pretty liberally — or ignored it altogether. But most of the riders at least made the attempt to look both distinguished and gentlemanly.

I especially liked this guy on the chopper and was sorry not to have gotten a better pic of his ride. I haven’t seen pants like those since the Nixon administration!

This was the only sidecar I saw. These two definitely win the prize for cutest couple.

I was surprised that there were so many Royal Enfields in the mix. But maybe I shouldn’t have been. Royal Enfields are as natty and anachronistic as the Distinguished Gentlemen themselves. First manufactured in 1901, they developed a reputation in World War II as being nearly indestructible. “Built like a bullet” was the strange simile that was used to describe them. The company was eventually sold and moved to Chennai, India where it continues as “the oldest global motorcycle brand in continuous production.” Royal Enfield is surely a niche player in the global motorcycle market. But for whatever reason, they’re popular here in Puerto Rico. There’s even a dealership here in San Juan.

Not everyone was riding a big bike – or for that matter, a motorcycle at all.

I’ve ridden a motorcycle while wearing a tuxedo, so I think I could fit right into this group. Next year?

El Local en Santurce and La Maquinaria de Tortura

I was at El Batey a couple weeks ago and got talking to the guy on the next barstool. This is something I’ve rarely done at other bars, but there’s something about El Batey that brings out my extrovert side. He told me he was in a band called La Maquinaria de Tortura (The Machinery of Torture) and that they were going to be playing a gig in Santurce at a place called El Local. I told him I’d go. Last night, I did.

I’ve never been anyplace quite like El Local. The front half of it consists of a bar and a sitting room that were apparently decorated by someone on work release from the local insane asylum, circa 1980.

It’s the sort of warm and sinister place where you’d be playing a board game and discover that your opponent had turned into a demonic clown or a large bipedal reptile, but you’d just roll the dice and take your turn.

The back half of the building was . . . well, let’s just say that the decorator hadn’t gotten there yet. This made it the perfect setting for the propulsive punk of La Maquinaria de Tortura. The sound was old school: 90 second songs screamed out incomprehensibly by sweaty shirtless men while a distortion-heavy guitar bashes out the same two chords over and over and over and…

…and meanwhile, people who will always be cooler than you no matter how many tats you get or indie films you direct sit by impassively digging the scene.

On the way out, I saw this sign for future fun at El Local.

Not quite sure what that’s all about, but I might give it a try. It’s a strange place. And so of course, I want to go back.

Small Art on Calle Cerra

Not all the artwork on Calle Cerra is of mammoth proportions. There are numerous smaller works too, ranging from signs and door decorations up to murals painted on single story houses and walls.

This little guy is standing right next to the gate that led me to Calle Cerra in the first place.

He shows up again here.

I liked this sign. Psycho Deli, qu’est-ce que c’est?

My mother taught me that unless your last name is Windsor, you have no business having big stone lions out in front of your house. But I think a small metal lion on a security gate would be OK with her.

The twisted street signs of Calle Cerra have become a much-photographed icon of Santurce. I’ve seen pictures of this in various publications. Which way is up and what the hell does it matter?

These portraits are by Boomone787, also known as Xavier Muñoz. He also painted some of the portraits on Calle Loíza, which I blogged about when I first moved to Puerto Rico.

I thought this was interesting: it seems to be a mural depicting a house that the owners would like to live in painted on the front wall of the house they actually live in.

I applaud the sentiment here: “Fight for an education that teaches us to think and not for an education that teaches us to obey.”

This one is just the right size: modestly proportioned so it doesn’t overwhelm the house it’s in front of.

Someone’s a big Spike Lee fan.

The painting below is by Shetrock, who has done a number of murals in the area. I think the piece below that is as well, though I don’t see his tag on it.

These next two are photos of Watusi, a small bar whose patrons sit in plastic chairs out on the sidewalk, chat with each other, and watch the world go by. The art here is once again by Boomone787.

While this isn’t artwork in the usual sense of it, the patio of this Mexican restaurant seemed so well designed and inviting that I had to photograph it.

Big Art on Calle Cerra

On March 29 of this year, a friend messaged me at 8:00 in the evening to say she was locked in at the Santurce Air BnB she’d rented. Literally locked in. She’d misunderstood her host’s key instructions and now found herself unable to open the gate that would allow her to leave. She needed rescuing and gave me the address: 809 Calle Cerra, Santurce.

Using Google Maps, I navigated through the Maria-darkened streets of San Juan. I thought I knew Santurce, but I’d never been to this part before. The apartment was at the top of a flight of outdoor stairs that was accessed from the sidewalk via a red gate to the right of the building. I retrieved the key from a lockbox and released Ang from her Air BnB incarceration. We had a good laugh about it.

I caught only a glimpse of the neighborhood that night. What I could make out looked to be one-third slum, one-third hip, one third light industrial/commercial. I mentally bookmarked it as a place to return to someday. And so four months to the day after I rescued Ang, I returned to check out the neighborhood by daylight. I was delighted to find the largest repository of street art I’ve seen in San Juan.

Some of the murals covered entire sides of buildings. They were clearly not the work of casual taggers.

The one below was done by NM Salgar.

This painting was the most intricate of any I saw. And it’s big; the photo here only shows half of it. I can’t imagine the amount of time it must have taken to work in all those little color dots. It was done by Shetrock, one of the most prolific and talented of the Calle Cerra artists.

I’m not wild about this particular piece, but I admire the ambition behind it.

This tree-shaded mural shows Puerto Rican baseball legend Roberto Clemente wearing his Santurce Cangrejeros uniform. Clemente was the first Latin American/Caribbean player to be enshrined in the National Baseball Hall of Fame. The size of this mural is a reflection of how big baseball is here.

Below is surely one of the most beautiful hardware stores to be found anywhere.

I’m not certain, but I think the sign in the photo below is part of the artwork. San Expedito (Saint Expeditus) is one of the sketchier Roman Catholic saints. According to the entry on him in Wikipedia,

Expeditus was a Roman centurion in Armenia who became a Christian and was beheaded during the Diocletian Persecution in AD 303. The day he decided to become a Christian, the Devil took the form of a crow … and told him to defer his conversion until the next day. Expeditus stamped on the bird and killed it, declaring, ‘I’ll be a Christian today!’

Many stories circulated about the origin of the cultus of Expeditus. … A case containing the relics of a saint, who was formerly buried in the Denfert-Rochereau catacombs of Paris, was delivered at a convent in the city. The senders had written expédit on the case, to ensure fast delivery of the remains. The nuns assumed that “Expédit” was the name of a martyr, and prayed for his intercession. When their prayers were answered, veneration spread rapidly through France and on to other Roman Catholic countries.

Perhaps the sign is a commentary of some sort about the artwork? Who knows? Well, Shetrock probably does.

The magic of the big bunny is that the artist has imagined a three-dimensional chrome rabbit and painted it showing a contorted reflection of a street scene. It’s a painting of a sculpture that both shows the subject and mirrors the environs.

This Lichtensteinesque comic strip enlargement was four stories tall and hard to photograph. The industrial fan at the woman’s lips will give an idea of its scale.

Three Spanish ships sailing away and leaving a trail of broken, anguished bodies it their wake? I detect allegory in this one.

But if there’s allegory in this mural, it’s lost on me. It’s whimsical and fantastical, but I keep trying without success to divine some larger meaning.

This must be the coolest bus stop in Santurce. I didn’t even notice the old man sitting there until I’d taken a couple photos of him.

This last one was one of my favorites. It’s the only mural I saw that was part of an industrial plant. The artist used the idea that this is a tank of some sort to maximum advantage. Don’t lose hope: the water angel boy is coming.