@iguana_and_sunsets · 2011–2012
A year on the island
I was maybe 10-11 when I first stepped into Roatan, Islas de La Bahia. A small island off the coast of Honduras that my grandparents were urging was going to be my new home for the next year or two while my mother finished her degree in Puerto Rico. I remember not being too happy with the change in pace from Miami to a seemingly less lived small island off the coast of one of the “least desirable” countries in Central America. They urged that it would be an opportunity to connect with my roots and I would be able to complete American school credits to seamlessly return to school when I touched back down in Miami for the indefinite future. The weather was similar and the people warm and tan. My grandfathers home was essentially a tree house at the top of this enormous hill that separated the house from the ocean. I spent the next year in the sun, eating fruit and killing iguanas for my grandfather to grill. I befriended some of the local kids and daily at 6 am sharp I would hear a knock on the door from the kids urging me to go to the beach to see the sunset with them. Overall, even though it was a wildly different experience and one that came with resistance from my end. It stands to this day being one of the most memorable years of my life. I still chase the freedom I felt on that island, and I hope that I can return again as an adult with more time to spare.