My favorite beach in all of Puerto Rico is in the San Juan neighborhood of Ocean Park. It’s called Playa Último Trolley — Last Trolley Beach — because it’s near the final stop on the now-defunct San Juan streetcar line. I’ve gone there almost every weekend for the last five months. It’s a locals’ beach, a place where Puerto Rican families go for swimming and sunning. There’s butter-soft sand in some parts and flat shoreline rock in others.
Some Saturday mornings, an older man drives up, parks his car, and opens the trunk to reveal medium-large speakers. He sits in the parking lot on a lawn chair with an old wooden box about two feet long in his lap. Then he cranks up the salsa, drums along on the box, and rocks the whole beach. It’s that kind of place. I take everyone who visits me there.
Last Sunday it was windy. When I arrived in early afternoon, the ocean was dotted with windsurfers and the sky was speckled with kiteboard sails.
I walked east to the less populated end of the playa, the part that’s across from the swanky real estate on Calle Park Boulevard.
The breeze was coming toward me and I could smell the sweet tobacco of this man’s cigar from 75 meters away.
But I didn’t come to smell the smoke; I wanted to be nearer to where the windsurfers were congregated.
I’ve never gone windsurfing or kiteboarding — but I’d sure like to try someday.
On my way back to the main part of the beach, I passed this mountain bike. Everything about it looked seemed catalogue-perfect.
I passed by families enjoying themselves in the shallows and a vendor doing a good business in cold drinks on a hot day.
Weather permitting (and it usually does), I’ll be back next weekend.
And in case you want to check it out, Playa Último Trolley is here:
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