I once flew to Jamaica in early March and the moment I stepped off the plane, my sinuses did a happy dance. The air hits you like a warm, damp blanket—and you love it. The water is that perfect temperature where you don’t have to “adjust” to it; you just become one with the ocean.
You’ll see people sipping something out of a coconut and you’ll think, “Yeah, I could do that for a living.” The only downside is that you’ll come home and your neighbors will ask why you’re so tanned, and you’ll have to pretend you didn’t just eat your body weight in jerk chicken.
Puerto Rico: The Laid-Back Cousin
Puerto Rico in March is like the friend who shows up to the party without a plan—and it works. The weather is consistently in the low 80s, which is basically the human comfort zone set to “eternal sigh of relief.” You can walk through Old San Juan and feel the history, but also feel the sun melting your winter cortisol.
I remember buying a piragua (shaved ice) from a street vendor, and it was the best twenty cents I’ve ever spent. It’s the kind of place where you forget what day it is, and you don’t care because your only schedule is “beach, then more beach, then nap.”
