As we exited his cab, the taxi driver shook our hands and said, "Thank you for coming here." The hotel clerk smiled and said "We're so glad you are here." The owner of one little shop hugged us and shouted, "You're back! Thank you for coming back."

The people of San Juan, Puerto Rico, were always warm and friendly, but we'd never had a reception like this before.

Friends advised us not to take our usual winter weekend in San Juan. "Pick another island," they said. "Any place else would be better, safer."

Like them, we'd watched the news and knew that five months after hurricane Maria hit the island, hundreds still had no power and many businesses were closed. We knew things wouldn't be exactly the same, but we figured there would still be lovely beaches, warm weather, and cordial people. My daughter and I decided to give it a try.

And we loved it.

Our hotel, the Marriott Courtyard on Isla Verde, was a lucky building that was little damaged by the 155-miles an hour winds. Rescue workers were housed there right afterward, and it looked the same as ever. Except the trees. Stately palms still lined the patio but none had fronds on all four sides. They looked like telephone poles with a few green fingers pointing west.

But new fronds sprouted on every tree. By mid-summer they'll look fine. Wherever we looked Mother Nature was working faster than man to return to normal. But she didn't need skilled labor and supplies delivered by ship.

Next to the Courtyard were high-rise condos with boarded up windows and empty parking lots. The vintage El San Juan and Ritz Carlton Hotels were closed. Workmen said they were undergoing wholesale renovations, not just being repaired.

Some stores were open, right next to others half falling down. At the end of our mile-long walk, we found the Intercontinental Hotel filled with visitors and party-goers. The casino in our hotel pulsed with lights and energy.

The highway between Isla Verde and Old San Juan, as heavily trafficked as usual, was lined with a mix of badly damaged and untouched buildings. Same was true when we reached the tourist shopping avenues of Fortaleza and San Francisco. Merchants open for business told us they had good landlords who gave them a break on the rent while they had no power or phones. They said when other landlords insisted on full rent even though the stores couldn't open, tenants simply abandoned them.

Several of our favorite restaurants were gone but we found others cheerfully repainted and food just as good.

Everyone - cab drivers, waitresses, store clerks, building owners - was eager to talk about how Maria affected them. Most concluded their horrifying tales by shrugging and saying something like, "We survived. My family is okay. We'll recover."

We were stunned by their resilience, industriousness, and optimism.

One shop owner said, "I started 25 years ago with debt and nothing else. Now I have more debt and not much else, but I can start over. I can work more hard. I can make another success." Another said all her employees had fled to the mainland, so she was manning her store alone. "But I have few customers now anyway," she smiled.

We felt bad that so many are still struggling five months after the storm and we felt worse that Washington officials are withholding much of the post-hurricane aid Congress promised their fellow citizens.

The tiny boost our spending vacation dollars in Puerto Rico gave its economy was greatly appreciated, and we never felt better about splurging.

A former Assemblywoman from Jersey City, Joan Quigley is the president and CEO of North Hudson Community Action Corp.

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