Recap & My Personal PR Experience

If you live in New York, Puerto Rico always feels close, hovering in the music, the food, the neighbors who know all the words to Hector Lavoe’s songs outside the bodega. For nearly 16 years, I’ve lived among Nuyoricans, and my partner is one himself — his roots are planted here, although until this trip, his feet hadn’t touched the island’s soil. Bad Bunny‘s residency offered us the perfect excuse to make it happen — to experience the biggest star in the world performing in his homeland.

The first night’s show (July 11) was the kind of spectacle you write home about: perreo energy, glorious salsa, and Taino tradition that could have been pulled straight from Benito’s daydreams — plus, Puerto Rican fans exploding with pride and exuberance. But the trip itself went deeper than the music, it was my chance to explore the island for the first time, and to absorb the island that has given so much to the world.

As someone who isn’t Boricua (I’m Mexican American) but felt the gravity of this moment, I know I occupied a space many couldn’t. Going to see Bad Bunny felt like carrying the privilege of “being invited to witness,” especially on one of his nights reserved exclusively for residents of PR. I don’t say that lightly — I know so many people would have loved to be there, and I don’t take for granted that my media job put me in that arena.

What I realized, however, was that the enormity of this event wasn’t just about being in the stadium. It was about what this residency means for connection, for culture, for Puerto Ricans near and far — and yes, for visitors like myself lucky enough to be on these streets of this island during such a historic moment.

When the lights dimmed at the Coliseo de Puerto Rico José Miguel Agrelot (a.k.a. El Choli) on opening night, the anticipation hung heavy. I’ve been to massive shows before — I live in New York City, where music events can feel theatrical and grand — but Bad Bunny’s residency felt… personal. This was identity on display. At the height of his global fame, the artist stood before thousands of his people and giving everything he had for them.

After the high energy of the opening night with Bad Bunny, Saturday morning brought something raw, joyful, and unexpected. I found myself riding through Juncos in a caravana with none other than Toñita herself, the owner of the legendary Caribbean Social Club in Brooklyn — and yes, the same Toñita immortalized in Bad Bunny’s “NUEVAYoL.” With the line “Un shot de cañita en casa de Toñita, PR se siente cerquita” (“A shot of cañita at Toñita’s house, PR feels so close”) playing on repeat through the sound system behind us, we drove through town like a moving celebration of culture, connection, and homecoming — alongside racing motorcycles.

Toñita’s journey back to her hometown felt like a reunion of sorts. Locals waved from their doorways, the streets, and their cars as the caravan’s loudspeaker announced, “¡Es Toñitaaaaa!” Driving through town, we partied and drank Medalla Light — the beer brand that also recreated a replica of her club at Benito’s residency. It’s no wonder Toñita herself thought Benito was quoting her when she saw “No Me Quiero Ir De Aquí” (meaning “I don’t want to leave here”) the residency’s name, displayed everywhere — from merch to billboards.

Later that evening, I headed to Coliseo de Roberto Clemente to experience yet another side of Bad Bunny’s legacy: his impact on the sports world. His Baloncesto Superior Nacional basketball team, the Santurce Cangrejeros (co-owned with his manager Noah Assad), was playing a critical playoff game against the Criollos de Caguas. Let’s just say I went in not expecting much beyond a fun night, but the energy in the arena was also electric.

Santurce didn’t just win, they dominated. The game on July 13 ended with the Cangrejeros advancing to the playoff semifinals, marking the first time they made it that far since their return to the BSN league in 2021. The series wrapped up with Santurce claiming victory 4-1, eliminating the Criollos entirely. Fans roared as the team charged forward for the semifinal against the Vaqueros (July 18). And yes, I lived for the drama. Even though basketball wasn’t the original reason I came to Puerto Rico, moments like these reminded me how Benito has woven himself and his influence into the island’s culture.

The next day, I had a completely different thrill — one that involved flying through the mountains of Orocovis. Toro Verde is home to one of the longest zip lines in the world, including La Bestia and El Monstruo, which stretch across stunning views of the island’s green valleys and rugged terrain. Courtesy of the El Choli’s team, we were able to zipline through the skies and experience the island in a way that was breathtaking, literally and figuratively.

When the night rolled through, I found myself back at the Coliseo for round two with El Conejo Malo — this time, catching his third night of the residency, with special guests Jowell y Randy. Celebratory in every way, Benito leaned into the PR-NYC connection, swagged out in ’70s salsa attire and aviator shades — something New Yorkers who come to see the show once it opens to international audiences on August 30 are sure to appreciate.

After a whirlwind weekend of concerts and caravans, Monday offered a change of pace — a chance to slow down, soak in the beauty of Puerto Rico, and finally take advantage of our hotel. We stayed at 352 Guest House, tucked in the heart of Old San Juan, where every detail gave the stay an intimate charm: a rooftop with sweeping views of the ocean, a jacuzzi perfect for unwinding, and delicious breakfast included.

Walking through Old San Juan was like stepping into a painting — its cobblestone streets lined with brightly colored buildings and Spanish colonial architecture made every turn feel magical. From centuries-old forts like El Morro and Castillo San Cristóbal to bucolic churches tucked away behind lively plazas, the city showcased its history with pride. You can feel its heartbeat in these streets, still alive with locals and visitors winding their way through bustling shops and cafes.

By the time Tuesday rolled around, I thought I had seen everything that could be seen of Bad Bunny’s residency, twice. But Benito had one more surprise for me: a chance to step further into his world at the “Seguimo’ Aquí” pop-up at the shopping mall Plaza Las Américas. Part immersive experience, part celebration of Boricua culture, the activation felt like an extension of what I’d witnessed at the Coliseo. From the start — the life-size replica of a Puerto Rican house and garden — to the hidden speakeasy where guests sipped cocktails from Benito’s restaurant, Lala, every detail brought Bad Bunny closer to the ordinary lives of his fans.

Puerto Rico offered more than I could have imagined: music, history, adventure and a connection that felt alive at every turn. Bad Bunny’s residency was the catalyst, but the real star was the island. No me quiero ir de aquí tampoco.