After a powerful few days in Spain, I wanted to do something iconic. Something personal. So Irelys and I packed up the car and hit the road. Destination: Porto, Portugal.

Now, I’m not a fan of driving, but when the scenery is this beautiful, I don’t mind sitting behind the wheel. This drive, winding through golden landscapes, vineyards, and timeless towns, turned into one of the most memorable mini road trips of my life. We stopped wherever we wanted. Ate when we felt like it. Laughed. Reflected. Five hours from Madrid to Porto felt like five scenes from a movie.

The Rhythm of Porto

There was only one non-negotiable: we had to stay by the river. No exceptions. So we did.
Porto’s charm hit instantly. Bustling streets, historic tiles, cafes alive with conversation. On our first night, I went out clubbing solo. The rhythm, the people, the energy… it was everything I didn’t know I needed. I met a group of travelers from Russia, and what started as a random night out became a bond. One of them would later host me during the 2018 World Cup. Wild.

That’s when the phrase hit me:

“All it takes is one person for your whole life to change.”

I live by that now.

What Irelys Didn’t Know

We still had schoolwork to handle. Yes, this was vacation, but we were still full-time college students. Between wandering streets and sipping espresso, and I don’t even drink coffee like that, but I was feeling the vibe, we huddled in Airbnbs finishing assignments. It was surreal, working on a laptop in Portugal, knowing life back home felt a world away.

But while Irelys was focused on the now, I was on a mission. I had to answer a question I’d been quietly carrying for years:

Portugal is one of the best places to retire in Europe. So, could I call this place home?

Drifting

In the United States, I often felt…disconnected. Something about it felt boring, predictable, flat. But here, in Porto, I felt awake. Present. Like I had found a rhythm I’d forgotten existed.

You see, my relationship with “home” has always been complicated.

In the military, especially the Marine Corps, identity is stripped down to its basics. And for me, that’s when the questions began because I spoke with a full Caribbean accent in the American military. So I kinda stood out.

Where are you from?

Well... I was born in New York. But I moved at 2 years old to St. Croix, where I spent most of my childhood. I also spent long holidays overseas with my dad in various countries. My father is Puerto Rican, my mother is an Afro-Latina with roots in West Africa and the Iberian Peninsula. Ethnically, I am the living fusion of colonizers and the colonized. Of empire and resistance. Of movement and memory. Some wild stuff runs in my blood, and I knew it. College was a hell no for me at 18 years old. I knew I needed something active. Turns out, after meeting a contact in Portugal, it’s no coincidence I was raised in the Caribbean or went to the military. Less than 1% of the planet are born in or raised in the Caribbean. I am part of the lucky few. Make no mistake, people, PIRATE blood flows through my veins. So yeah, it was in my blood, literally. It is perhaps why it feels pre-determined that I like everything about One Piece, rum, sailing the seas, adventure, and exploring. I mean, look at me. I was built for the golden pirate era.

But in the barracks, that answer never worked.

“You weren’t born in St. Croix? Then you’re not from there.”
“Only a few years in New York? Then you’re not from there either.”

And then came the follow-ups.
"Where were your parents born?"
"What are you really?"
"Where do you belong?"

Untethered

At 18, I left home. And while I didn’t cut anyone off on purpose, the military cuts for you. You’re constantly on the move. I lost touch with my people. Everyone was scattered.
The refinery in St. Croix shut down.
My direct family moved to Louisiana.
And the family I do have, they’re all figuring out life in isolation, like solo quests.

So there I was. Alone. Rootless. Floating.

Not broken. Not lost. Just… drifting.

Looking for a home planet.

A Different Kind of Realization

And yet, I had done everything right.

I was already retired.
I had financial freedom.
I’d traveled the world.
I was top of my class, literally on track to graduate with summa cum laude honors.
I had a good heart. I made good choices. I helped people.

By 27, I had packed three lifetimes of experience into one.

And yet... no place to call home.
At least not in the traditional sense.

Surprisingly, that didn’t make me sad.

It made me feel alive.

I felt like Luffy from One Piece, sailing toward the unknown. I wasn’t scared anymore.
I was thrilled. I looked at the world like a blank map, and I was the one bold enough to fill it in.

The Tattoo – The Compass

**Tattoo Location:** Porto, Portugal (Heavy Handers Tattoo)( ←IG LINK)
**Tattoo Design:** Compass with “Portugal,” “Africa,” “New York,” and “Caribe” at the directional points
**Tattoo Placement:** Right shoulder
**Represents:** Identity, direction, belonging, self-defined home, manhood, legacy

After days of soul-searching and late-night thinking, the vision for Tattoo #8 became crystal clear:
A compass.

Not just a directional symbol, a philosophical anchor. A tattoo that reminded me:

“Home isn’t one place. It’s where I make it to be.”

I gave Portugal my right shoulder for this one — it earned the honor.

Between the compass’s cardinal points, I included four personal anchors:

NE: Portugal — My ancestry and a place I could see myself settling
SE: Africa — My mother’s roots and my brother’s current home in Egypt
NW: New York — My birthplace, and where I lived as a student
SW: Caribe — My heart, my soul, my real sense of “fromness”

Becoming a Man in Porto

Portugal was my transition point.
It was where I realized:

“I’m not a kid trying to piece myself back together after military service anymore. I’m a man, and I bend life to my will.”

I wasn’t worried about turning 30. I had had experiences that most people dream of.
While many never leave their borders, never board a plane, never break free from the cycles they were born into, I was out here living a storyline with arcs, callbacks, and mysteries still to unfold!
————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————
Want more stories like this?
Check out the full tattoo journey from the beginning — Tattoo #1 started it all in Mumbai.
If you vibe with this journey, don’t forget to follow, share, and connect with me on socials (links below in the footer ↓)
(Link: Tattoo #1)