From Vision to Reality - A Wild Discovery and a Big Leap
What started as a quiet dream soon took a more concrete shape. During our property search, we weren’t looking for anything grand — just a modest home, close to the beach, where we could recharge and eventually grow roots. This was meant to be a long-term plan, a peaceful retreat for friends and family, and one day, a haven for retirement.
But sometimes life surprises you with a detour that changes everything.
We came across a listing for a large piece of land tucked into the hills of western Puerto Rico — five acres of wild, lush terrain with a house that had been built years ago by someone from Colombia. It wasn’t what we were looking for. It wasn’t even what we thought we wanted. It was remote, it was unfamiliar, and it needed a lot of work.
But it was also extraordinary.
The house was unique in structure and spirit — spacious, open, and filled with possibility. It had strong bones and striking architectural features, but it was in poor condition and had clearly been waiting a while for someone to care for it again. It wasn’t polished or perfect — and maybe that’s what made us fall in love.
We stood there, looking out over the overgrown backyard, the wild forest beyond it, and the quiet breeze rolling through the mountains, and we felt something click. It wasn’t a logical choice. It was bigger than we needed, in a place we didn’t yet understand, and it would take more effort than we had planned. But we knew.
This was it.
We weren’t thinking about a retreat or a hospitality business at the time. This wasn’t a business decision. It was a feeling — the kind of gut instinct that doesn’t happen often, but when it does, you follow it. So we made the leap.
From Vision to Reality: The Airport Arrivals and the First Fixes
After signing the papers, we were filled with excitement — and immediately faced with reality. We still lived in Miami and had full-time jobs, so turning our new property into something livable meant working in bursts, squeezing what we could into the few trips we were able to make.
Some of those visits felt like small adventures of their own. We’d land in Puerto Rico after dark, navigate winding mountain roads with barely a streetlight in sight, and step out of the car with flashlights in hand. Unlocking the door always felt like opening a new chapter — the house waiting quietly, the tools stacked in the corner, the to-do list already forming in our minds.
Those early efforts were intense. We repaired what we could, slowly built up a home workshop, and figured things out by doing — learning from the small mistakes along the way. It was messy, fulfilling, and at times overwhelming.
One of our biggest challenges was the roof and facade. The roof required cleaning and repairs — but that’s easier said than done in Puerto Rico’s rainy season. We’d be halfway through sealing a section when the sky would suddenly open up, soaking everything. The exterior walls were covered in multiple thick layers of paint, each one needing to be scraped by hand. We were halfway through our first paint job when the rain started again. We waited. And tried again.
In the midst of all this effort, something else happened: we began meeting the neighbors. Curious and kind, many of them stopped by to say hello. One evening, we hosted a small gathering and gave them a tour. One neighbor, looking around the house, said: “This place is built like a hotel. Look at all the rooms with their own balconies. It’s made for guests.”
At the time, we smiled. We had no plans to turn it into anything more than a home for us. But life, as always, had its own plans. The thought lingered. Could this be something more? Could we reimagine this house as a retreat for others, not just ourselves?
It was a bold idea — and we made an even bolder move. We relocated to Puerto Rico, ready to take the next step. And that’s when the real work began.
Want to keep following our story? We’ll be sharing more chapters — from unexpected setbacks to small victories — as we continue shaping Hacienda Eterna Primavera into a place of rest and renewal.