I should have taken more photos (too)

Diaries from Puerto Rico

Dec 14, 2025

Surah Al-Hajj (22:46): “Have they not travelled throughout the land so their hearts may reason, and their ears may listen? Indeed, it is not the eyes that are blind, but it is the hearts in the chests that grow blind”

If you grew up in a place where conversations were rich but photographs of the moments were less so, you understand the nostalgia and the wisdom of moments passed between the random chairs in the garden. SubhanAllah, honestly this album cover is absolute genius.

I couldn’t figure it out, in less than twenty four hours I was sitting by the beach in Puerto Rico (PR) and feeling at home. I often find myself between places and people, existing in the liminal. For the first time in recent memory, I was feeling familiar with myself, my heart was settled. I remember sitting by the beach, listening to the waves crash and writing. The following is an excerpt from my notes the very evening I landed in PR:

Travel Diaries -06th December 25

As I sit here with music playing it feels like I have only ever heard Spanish rhythm

I can hear the ocean waves and the beachfront pool is lit a beautiful lagoon blue, much like the mosquito bay I dream of visiting. There is music playing in the background from the hotel, and I can’t help but drift from all the surrounding noise and into deep thought about the differences of Puerto Rico and Miami. I am less than twenty four hours into my travels here and already I have met two lovely people, the streets are more communal and the food has some heart.

There is something about a people who chase something other than the facade of luxury. This place is luxury, the beach doesn’t need somebody to lift sand into its premise, the waves have carved out their own beaches. And now I wonder if locals get to enjoy this same beach I will see for the next five days. The waves carved out the less sandy footpaths for them, not for us and it should be theirs if they allow us to share that would be beautiful, but first it should be theirs.

I am excited for the next few days and I make dua that Allah (swt) allows for me to feel free in my exploration of this place. I want to feel the fruit cut by hands that have tended this land, and hear of local recommendations where families have made memories for generations, I want to find the corner shop where a child rides their scooter to pick up their mothers forgotten items at the grocery store.

I want to feel this island in its full capacity because in my heart I can feel the love Allah (swt) put into creating this place and its people. I want to visit a mosque and see how those who migrated here from Palestine and Jordan have integrated, how the locals have taken to Islam. I want to know stories. I want to hear them, to sit quietly at a family dinner table and just listen. The palm trees here feel native to their land, everything feels like it belongs. And as the tide changes the shore, generations grow and change in the landscapes.

I want to hear the favourite songs they play in the streets, I want to see people dance. This is just my first twenty four hours and I had a burst to write perhaps even here I can wrote some sort of poem. And return again when my heart desires to finish thoughts after a few more hours or days here

I am back in London now and my heart craves to be back in the place where my heart was feeling comfort. There are nice people in cities I have travelled to before, so why did I feel so at home there? Why does the music playing touch my heart like no other? I remember briefly mentioning to my friends that I travelled with about the beaches here, and how I was feeling bad because I was not sure if locals could enjoy them in the same way we were.

I think I found my answer in the words from this one song I was listening to - ‘LO QUE LE PASÓ A HAWAii’ :

“Quieren quitarme el río y también la playa / Quieren el barrio mío y que abuelita se vaya”

which translates to:

they want to take the river, and also the beach, they want my neighbourhood, and to kick out my grandmother

The reason I was feeling so at home is because the people I was walking down the street and meeting were just like me. We may be 4000+ miles apart, but their presence is exactly like home, like my family. They carry a humbleness in their heart that you can only find in the furthest corners of my home, London.

These people reminded me of my family, who have lived generations building this city yet not one single family member has been able to afford a home, being pushed out by continuous gentrification, and scrutinised by increasing investment from outside, ultimately stuck in a cycle of poverty. I can say that as the child who has broken some barriers, I continue to feel the impacts of the hurdles put purposely to push people like me out of this city.

Yet the constant suffering of the lowest classes in London is met somehow with the deepest generosity. I see reflections of home walking the streets of PR, the smile that a stranger gave me simply to be kind reminded me of my mother who always smiles. The offers of help with nothing but pure intention, reminded me of how my family help others. It reminded me particularly about their effortless help, time and effort to care for my grandpa in his worsening health, with nothing expected in return, and no complaints to be heard.

The friendly recommendations and homely conversation reminded me of my younger years, where my mothers door was open to everybody, our home was home for all. In a world where everything has become transactional, beautiful people exist and their love is without transaction.

I was able to laugh loudly and snort, only to be welcomed by those around me with a smile. The kindness here is contagious and being able to laugh brought my heart closer to my grandpa. Sometimes he forgets me in recent days due to dementia, yet when I laugh he instantly remembers and mimics to make fun of me, because yes I have a goofy laugh.

I realise London has changed since I was a child and quite rapidly at that. I find myself anxious in supermarkets, overthinking how I am perceived, being on the end of hateful comments, isolated by individualistic culture. All of these problems vanished in PR, I was talking to strangers, I was initiating conversation and as mentioned above laughing till the streets next door could hear. I was truly at home and if I could bottle up the nostalgic feeling of growing up before London became rather somewhat soulless, and drink it, I am sure I would find myself tasting the waters of Puerto Rico.

I pray to return to Puerto Rico, offering something more than my desire to explore their beautiful places and have passing conversation with the locals, I pray I can offer my knowledge in Urban planning or my skills to help in their fight to access spaces and keep development in the cycle of benefitting locals.

I read the above note once more and realise Allah (Swt) - God, had given me the most beautiful answers to my duas…

So do you remember when I wrote:

I want to feel the fruit cut by hands that have tended this land, and hear of local recommendations

A lovely woman I met on the flight showed me her father cutting coconuts from her home in the mountains, I pray one day I can taste them. She offered recommendations that wholeheartedly improved my experience of PR. When I posted on my instagram story that I love Puerto Rico, she told me that Puerto Rico loves me! (I was smiling ear to ear :D)

Or do you remember when I wrote:

I want to visit a mosque and see how those who migrated here from Palestine and Jordan have integrated, how the locals have taken to Islam.

On the last day I woke up and pushed myself to go to the masjid. I was nervous the reviews online said it may be closed, but I knew if I did not make an attempt I would be regretful. In doing so, I met a wonderful Palestinian man who opened the Mosque so I could pray inside, he explained sisters don’t usually come here to pray.

He welcomed me in to his shop, where a Puerto Rican woman asked if I spoke Spanish, when I responded no, she did not turn her nose up at me she had her best attempt at telling me I am beautiful with both her words and hand gestures. She did not ask who I was, what I did for work, she simply wanted to give a bit of kindness out, for nothing in return.

I saw how the Palestinian man and his two sons had integrated with locals, as many non-muslims were in in the shop all speaking to each other in Spanish, locals would walk in and although I could not understand, I could tell this was their local shop, that their conversations were heartfelt.

I see a family who migrated from a land where everything has been taken from them, and loving the land who has taken them in. I see them trying their best to sustain a living and in coming from a land being stripped away, they still offered me a parting gift.

Puerto Rico has been blessed by God, and I pray it continues to be blessed. The peoples hearts hearts are tightly connected the their souls, the goodness God creates in all of us.

And do you remember when I wrote:

I want to hear the favourite songs they play in the streets,

I heard the pride in the music they played, many songs adorning the streets from morning to night consisted of artists from Puerto Rico. The country is proud with its people, and in every corner I saw a flag, my heart warmed.

Their happiness is so pure, it allows them to be pure in conversation, they are not afraid of outsiders. In hearing their songs, I also heard beautiful words from the worker tell me “you will be fine inshaAllah” as I was shaking before going on the zipwire. To greeting me with “Assalamu alaikum”.

To put in to context the muslim population is less than 2000 in PR, making up less than 0.20% of the population. It is not common place for them to use these words, yet they did to welcome me, and it was the most beautiful experience.

I see now when you find a people who are content with their land and their heritage, who are proud and happy, you find them to be more welcoming of others, not fearful.

And lastly, do you remember when I wrote:

I had a burst to write perhaps even here I can wrote some sort of poem. And return again when my heart desires to finish thoughts after a few more hours or days here”

Well here is the poem, slightly revised from the written the first evening I arrived in Puerto Rico, I hope you enjoy the read <3

the thoughtful diaries

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