The day before Bad Bunny kicked off his blockbuster residency that's expected to bring hundreds of millions of dollars to Puerto Rico while showcasing its rich culture, he posted a simple message: Shop Local.
The ethos is core to his 30-show concert series in San Juan which, after nine performaces exclusive to residents, will open up to fans from elsewhere -- what many Boricuas, as Puerto Ricans are known, are hoping will serve as an exercise in responsible tourism.
"It's an incredible moment for the island," said Davelyn Tardi of the promotional agency Discover Puerto Rico.
The organization conservatively estimates the residency will bring in some $200 million to Puerto Rico over the approximately three-month run, which falls during the typically less-trafficked summer months.
Azael Ayala works at a bar in one of San Juan's popular nightlife zones, telling AFP that business was already booming even though the residency was only in its first weekend.
It's "completely changed," the 29-year-old said, as crowds buzzed about La Placita where some bars were slinging Bad Bunny-themed cocktails.
"We're thrilled," Ayala said. "The tips are through the roof."
The fact that people are coming from across the globe to see Bad Bunny "is a source of pride for Puerto Rico, too," he added.
Arely Ortiz, a 23-year-old student from Los Angeles, couldn't score a ticket to a show -- but said Bad Bunny was still the draw that prompted her to book her first trip to Puerto Rico.
"I really love how outspoken he is about his community," she said. "Just seeing him, that he can get so far, and he's Latino, it encourages more Latinos to be able to go for what they want."
"He has for sure empowered Latinos, like 100 percent."
But while tourism has long been an economic engine for the Caribbean island that remains a territory of the United States, the relationship is complicated.
Concerns around gentrification, displacement and cultural dilution have magnified on the archipelago beloved for stunning beaches with turquoise waters -- especially as it's become a hotspot for luxury development, short-term rentals and so-called "digital nomads" who work their laptop jobs remotely while traveling the world.
Visiting foreigners sample the island's beauty but are shielded from the struggle, say many locals who are coping with a chronic economic crisis exacerbated by natural disasters, as rents soar and massive blackouts are routine.
Bad Bunny -- who was born and raised Benito Antonio Martinez Ocasio -- himself has pointed to such issues and more in his metaphor and reference-laden lyrics.
"In my life, you were a tourist," reads one translation of his track "Turista."
"You only saw the best of me and not how I was suffering."
Historian Jorell Melendez Badillo told AFP that Puerto Rico by design has long catered to foreign investment: "A lot of people see tourism as sort of like this colonial undertone," he said.
But when it comes to Bad Bunny and his residency at the affectionately nicknamed venue El Choli, "we cannot negate the fact that it's going to bring millions of dollars" to the island, he added.
"We can celebrate what Benito is doing while also looking at it critically, and having a conversation around what type of tourism will be incentivized by this residency."
Ana Rodado traveled to Puerto Rico from Spain after a friend native to the island gifted her a ticket.
She booked a five-day trip with another friend that included a visit to beachside Vega Baja, the municipality where Bad Bunny grew up and worked bagging groceries before gaining fame.
After posing for a photo in the town square, Rodado told AFP that she'd been trying to take the artist's "shop local" plea to heart.
"Tourism is a global problem," she said. "To the extent possible, we have to be responsible with our consumer choices, and above all with the impact our trip has on each place."
"We try to be respectful, and so far people have been really nice to us."
Ultimately, Bad Bunny's residency is a love letter to his people -- a show about and for Puerto Ricans whose narrative centers on heritage, pride and joy.
"We're here, damn it!" he shouted to ecstatic screams during his sweeping first show, which at times felt like a giant block party. "I'd come back for the next 100 years -- if God lets me, I'll be here."
