When Mark and I first moved in together, he hung a print on the wall of our bedroom titled The Doors of Old San Juan, a city he had visited and fallen in love with four years prior. Four months later, I found myself in Puerto Rico, in Old San Juan, seeing those doors and colorful buildings to which they belong in person.
While we didn’t visit the city together, we both fell in love with Old San Juan for the same reasons: the brick paved streets, the brightly painted buildings, the live music echoing down the alleyways, and who could forget — the mojitos.
We each only spent a few hours in the city, but it was enough to put it at the top of our “must return to” list.
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