Paradise Spoilt - Part 1: Disorientation

If Puerto Rico is La Isla del Encanto (Island of Enchantment) and Vieques is La Isla Nena (the Little Girl/Sister Island), what would one presume but that it was a smaller version of the former; especially when the banner heralding your arrival says "welcome to paradise".

But we had been in Vieques for three days now and I was honestly in a state of shock. While I had tried to suppress all my fantasies about what this house-sit might entail, they had leaked into my subconscious none-the-less, like a slow spreading cancer, unwittingly taking hold of my logic, and ultimately transforming me into a state of great expectation.

All delusions came crashing down on me the minute we stepped off the ferry in Isabel Segunda, and to my dismay, I realised, we weren't in Kansas (or Old San Juan) anymore.

As far as grand entrances go, this wasn't it; there was no dazzling port of a burgeoning tourist destination. From afar it wasn't too disconcerting, a little primitive maybe, but quaint. Yet as the boat pulled closer to the pier the scene developed more severely, and it was apparent their was something strangely wrong about this picture. The buildings smattered across the shoreline look jaded, their cement facades discoloured and wanting. The rusted up remains of a vessel abandoned in the shallows make for a disenchanting focal point. But there were some promising points of interest further away; an old lighthouse on a promenade jutting into the sea to the left, a miniture fort on the hill straight ahead overlooking the bay, and to the far right, a ripple of hazy mountains tumbled into the sea.

I was getting mixed reviews.

The ferry ride itself was pleasant except for the refrigerated air-conditioning that had me frozen solid by the time we disembarked; it was large, modern and had comfortable seating. Yet the ferry system itself has a long way to go. You can't book or pay for tickets on the internet so you must arrive at least an hour early to obtain your tickets and secure your place in line to board the ferry - because there's no reservation system either. We heard the ferry terminal can get very crowded, and it's a first in, first served system. It was the off season, Easter had just finished and it was early on a Sunday, so we hoped that would give us a break, but just in case we arrived an hour and a half early.


The ferry docked at Fajardo

At first it was all quite relaxed in the Fajardo ferry terminal as we found a place to wait, but not long after a line started to form and that's when we began to sense the chaos. There was still about forty-five minutes till we boarded the ferry, what were they thinking? I was tired having gotten up so early, and wanted to stay in the nap position I had made for myself, but not knowing the protocol we picked up all our baggage and followed suit. It was then we started to feel like animals instead of humans. With personal space becoming a nonentity we pushed closer and closer, crowding each other out like sheep to the slaugterhouse; though we with our overstuffed backpacks hanging from us both front and back were feeling more like a couple of pack-mules.

When the ferry eventually arrived we watched through the gates like prisoners as people disembarked and filed past us to their freedom. Then they opened the gate for the disabled, elderly and pregnant and we eagerly watched them go through to board. And then finally they opened our doors and away we went!

Once we disembarked at the ferry terminal at Isabel Segunda in Vieques I was secretly panicking, wondering what was to become of our fate. Cars slithered by us up and down the unwelcoming ferry road, stopping midway to load and unload passengers, and people buzzed around us. This place already felt small and as we waited for Eric I felt blatantly like a fish out of water and wished I didn't look so, well, Gringo.

This area looked as disengaging as it did from aboard the ferry; there wasn't much happening down here, that is no business, not even a giftshop. Everything looked old and accidental. Westward was a two-story building covered in bars, and this scene filtered out up the hill in that direction. In front of us was a blue non-descript building, the only thing that looked newly painted, it had some wierd pipes reaching off of it, containing small black letters which vertically spelt "bienvenidos Vieques" (welcome to Vieques) in what I thought was a rather subdued introduction to the island. The paradise banner had started things off with a bang, but it seemed this is where the merriment ends. I began to lose hope for what town might be like, but I still held high hopes for the island's geography.

Eric arrived and we offloaded our bags. He didn't look at all like the fat, tormented artist I had imagined, he was slim, sprightly and flamboyant in his floral-print shirt and bright yellow sandals. He had ethnic skin and a dark mustache, betraying his Ecuadorian roots, but otherwise spoke with a clearly American accent. He seemed jovial and nice. I relaxed a little.

I have no pictures from this day, as soon as we got picked up the weather turned completely sour, a steady stream of rain accompanied us the whole day. But I have added a few related pictures from later to give you a feel for the place.

Before arriving at the property we were to care for Eric took us on a whirlwind tour of the island. Heading away from the terminal area, we came to the centre of town. I don't know what I had expected but after being in San Juan I guess I had hoped for something a little more architecturally pleasing, atleast something a little more congenial - but, I'm sorry, not this.

It was surreal. It looked like the wild west meets the caribbean. Buildings were mashed together awkwardly with no design, jutting out at us from the sides of the road, and only every second or third seemed to  be actually functioning. Paint peeled, cement facades cracked, signs faded, boards blocked abandoned windows and bars others. And what were in them? I saw Blackbeards, the outdoor store I'd noticed on google maps, there was the bank, the post office, a dodgey looking "Williams Pizza". I caught a glimpse of a sign saying "pretty woman" in an otherwise blank whitewashed storefront - must be a clothing shop, but didn't look overly enticing. Advertisement posters for beer and snacks showed that a few others were some kind of convenience store. The rest looked rather dismal. Every single window on every house and shop front had bars on the windows. Litter still rolled around like tumbleweed in the breeze. So many buildings with so little action; I was dismayed. People were going somewhere, the place was buzzing, but it didn't look like there'd be any retail therapy for me to bring me out of my wild west woes.

Soon we were headed out of town, the buildings became sparser and the road progressively got smaller and less sophisticated. Eventually, Eric started to veer and swerve to miss potholes, some so big all you could do was come to almost a halt and take them slowly. He explained that care of the roads have pretty much been abandoned since the army left. Many were in great disrepair and would most probably never be fixed.

What else became alarmingly apparent was the state of dryness the country was in. Eric wasn't kidding when they said they were in drought. It looked like the jungle had been re-positioned in Broken Hill and this was the result. I came to the Caribbean for a green and lush environment not brown and lifeless. This landscape was decaying like the buildings in town! Though the rain was dampening our day, nobody else was complaining, and soon neither was I.

Our tour included a few interesting highlights, some places we'll have to come back and explore. Passed the airport (yes, they've got an airport!) we turned onto a very, very long pier that jutted into the Atlantic. This is called Mosquito Pier. It's a crazy breakwater road that leads fair out into the ocean which was built by the army. At the end is a real pier that was gated off. A 300 year old Ceiba tree and Green Beach were others, the latter is at the very west end of the island, in the western portion of the Wildlife Refuge. It's a very secluded beach which might be a testament to the treacherous journey you have to take to get there. As soon as we entered the gates of the Wildlife Refuge the road turned to gravel which had become slick in the rain. Flooded pot holes jumped out at us along the way. Then the road was nothing but mud and potholes veering through scraggy jungle, barely discernable amongst sheets of rain, to which I was a little disconcerted but Eric seemed unfazed by.

This is where we learnt a little more about navigating the petty crime at the beach - and petty it is. We asked about the advice we'd heard about leaving the cars unlocked etc. He said that was no good, then they'd steal your battery and you'd be left stranded! Instead, Eric illustrated as we pulled up to Green Beach (which, although I couldn't see passed the mound to the actual beach, didn't seem to me worth the drive, infact), we should pull the car right up on the bank of the beach so we could see it, or give the appearance that the we could see it, to ward off would-be thieves, and then lock it and hope for the best. Didn't sound all to promising to me but Chase was already formulating ideas on how he could padlock the bonnet of the car.

We drove round and around that day amidst the withering jungle. I had no sense of orientation to know exactly where we went. We did pass the area that contains the old bunkers and pulled up to another area of the western wildlife refuge which Eric was going to show us but that was unexpectedly closed.

Then we finally came into the town of Esperanza of which Vieques was mildly redeemed. Any charm of a caribbean island town was centred down here. This was the tourist town of Vieques, and that's all it was; there was no "business" here, the post office, the bank, the supermarket, they were only in Isabel Segunda. It seemed Isabel Segunda was all work while Esperanza was all play. Still, it wasn't all beautiful, there were some areas that looked ghetto, but atleast an attempt at presentation had been made here: running along the edge of the bay was a promenade with a dreamy pastel yellow balustrade, it was a shame half of it was covered in orange workers tape - but it will look lovely when it's finished. Across the road away from the bay was a strip of mostly open-air restaurants and bars with a great island vibe about them adorned with vibrant colours, tropical plants and palm fringed patios. Our house was located closer to Isabel Segunda unfortunately, because this is where I wanted to be. I began to get excited and then I realised we couldn't be going to these places, we weren't working! My spirits dipped again.

On our way out of Esperanza Eric pointed out the remnants of some buildings being eaten up by the jungle on the side of the road. Nothing but a few skeletons remain of what was once a big resort before Hurricane Hugo ripped through in 1989 and took it out. "And see that" he said, pointing to a large bare area where the jungle was now encroaching, "we used to play tennis there". But I just couldn't imagine it the way it looked now.

Before heading up to the house we had lunch at a Puerto Rican diner, which at the time I thought was in the middle of nowhere and closer to Esperanza than Isabel Segunda, but turns out it wasn't even that far from the house. It's called El Resuelve and serves typical Puerto Rican fare. Like most places of this kind, it was on the owner's property, although this was a little more sophisticated. The restaurant was detached and had a covered area outback for dining, and out front was a small patio with bar stools at a counter window. I thought it was amusing that you drove into the property, between the guys house and the restaurant, and parked at the back - like going to the neighbour's for dinner. We had the usual rice and beans, and also tried a conch pastelillo.

We drove back into Isabel Segunda to go to the grocery store. The larger supermarket on the way out of town was closed by this time on a Sunday so we went to the smaller one in town. An unlikely place for a supermarket, down a small side street smooshed in amongst dilipated buildings; no carpark, just along the street out front, though this place is not exactly crowded. I was relieved by the contents of the supermarket. Disregarding the layout, it seemed to contain all the usual things and a bit more. The prices were compararble to the US, maybe a tiny bit more expensive, but that was understandable. At least I could eat!

Our house is the one furthest right near the top, you can make out the shiny tin roof

Finally we were on our way to Casa de Eric, and the drive to the property was the most confusing of all. There are about six ways to get to the place, but Eric said he'd take us back the most direct route this time - if you could call it that. Which ever way, it seems to be quite the expedition. He had a car for us to use during our stay thank goodness, we were definitely going to need it. There was no way you could do anything here without one, let alone get to his house.

It was a drive that went on and on and up and around. We entered the 'suburbs', but these were no harmonious tree-lined avenues. These were narrow precarious one-lane pot-holed roads, edged by dodgey fences with all kinds of shacks and houses dumped behind them; more garbage strewn from end to end, paint jobs half finished - houses half finished, and hacked attempts at gardens. For many, the road was the front yard but it seemed the residents had more to worry about then 'curb appeal'. Bars on all these windows too gave away the underlying problem. We continued along snaking passageways that dipped and bumped, the little houses popped up less frequently, there yards more expansive but just with more room to lay their junk, and we kept on driving until all of a sudden, the sealed road turned to dirt and we continued into the thick of the jungle. I'm sure Chase was feeling as stunned as I was, particularly when the road turned into ruts the size of the grand canyon. They weren't ruts so much as channels, with each wheel of the car precariously straddling the banks on either side. Then we finally came to the gate, but we hadn't finished there.

The ruts, rocks and dirt known as the driveway continued up a steep hill, bumpier than a plane in turbulence, and as it curved we came to the top and there stood the house, peering down the hillface. We continued around the house back down the hill a little till we came out at the front of the house on a clearing with a wide expanse of the best view you could imagine.

And this was to be home.

Driving to Luquillo: A Lesson in Puerto Rican Road Food

So have you gotten the idea I like Old San Juan yet?

Well, it was finally time to leave this beautiful city, after all, we were over here for a certain engagement; ah yes, the house-sit. We had to get to Fajardo (pronounced Fa-har-doe), on the east side of the island to catch the ferry to Vieques. We had allowed ourselves a whole day to get there and had arranged to couchsurf overnight in Luquillo, a surf town near Fajardo, before catching the ferry the next morning. Once you leave the major cities, couchsurfers are few and far between in Puerto Rico. We were lucky to find someone nearby.

We could've spent a truckload of money and flew straight to Vieques but of course that was out of the question. Instead, there was a ferry that left from Fajardo for Vieques that cost only $2 one-way. But how to get there? Our options were taxi, car rental or public transport. Taxi or rental car were cheaper than a flight, but still more expensive than we wanted to pay. We decided to keep them as a back-up plan. There are no buses or trains in Puerto Rico outside the major cities, instead, to get around the island cheaply but slowly, we'd have to take the público - a shared taxi.

This was a new concept to me. I was confused about exactly what it was, let alone how much it cost and or if we'd have to take more than one. Information was fairly vague: "private vehicles that transport groups of people between city centres. It is possible, albeit difficult, to travel to many cities using publicos alone" said "Let's Go" Travel Guide. They also warned to be prepared to spend several hours waiting' publicos will only leave when there are enough passengers and will also stop to pick up passengers along a semi-flexible route. Prices ranged from $5 - $60 depending on which information you believed, but all sources agreed you must allow four hours - for a typically one hour drive. These formidable fragments of information were disconcerting; I had visions of  Kathleen Turner on that ratty old bus in Romancing the Stone when she realises she's on the wrong bus. I was nervous, but I was willing.

As luck would have it, our hero Ali came to the rescue and offered to drive us! He was adamant that we not take the público and to that I was truly thankful and very much relieved. He'd only just gotten his car back from the mechanic after months without it too. Even more generously, he was going to take us sightseeing along the way, and little did we know, we were in for a Puerto Rican Taste Extravaganza. Of course, his gorgeous little dog Ozi would also come along for the ride. So the four of us set out early in the morning on this last Saturday in April headed east.

Driving out of the city walls I was reminded again that the greater area of San Juan was nothing much to look at; a grittier version of a typical American city. Large billboards, flashy chain restaurants, and storefronts brandishing garish bars screamed at me from all directions. Bars on windows, doors, balconies - any opening, would be a common fixture from here on out. Litter would also be a huge concern. 

Soon enough we left the modern world behind (but not the trash) and entered backwoods (or backjungle)-country along Road 187, which weaves along the coastline. As we followed the road we soon entered into a thick black haze. Though there was no need to be alarmed, it was smoke burning from outdoor grills.

They lined the road in succession, their operators huddled under what could only be described as swelteringly hot marquees, churning out Pinchos (kebabs) on open flames. Further along, the same thing was happening but the haze was wafting out of open-air shacks on dusty streets; the insides charred permanently black. No fire laws here I guess. And you wouldn't want to be predisposed of a lung condition.

We were driving through the town of Loiza, the self-proclaimed Traditional Heart of Puerto Rico.

The place looked, I hate to say, terrible; like a war-zone. Apart from the soot, litter seemed to tumble out of the shop-fronts and could be seen strewn as far as the eye could see. Buildings were dilapidated; scorched. It was actually welcoming to see advertising banners, the only colour and zeal to liven up the place. It was sad really, because there was much potential to be had and it was definitely a cultural experience. Puerto Rican street food is a insitution unto itself, and the people have turned it into an enterprise, establishing carts, tents, shacks or anything on a road, path or beach accompanied by any kind of invention of a grill or deep-fryer. We'd soon find they are ubiquitous all over Puerto Rico, and cheap. But thankfully we didn't stop here; we'd stop somewhere a little less asthma-inducing.
(* See end of post for update)

Next we went off road, hitting the sand dunes; well, sand roads really. Bumping along faster than I was comfortable with over sandy tracks carved through palm and seagrape trees.  Ozi was going nuts wanting to get out and run around; he was actually crying, it was pitiful! So we stopped at one of these secluded beaches and Ali and Ozi went for a run. The beach would've been really nice had trash not been customarily sprinkled about. You wonder what one thinks when they do this to their own piece of paradise. While Ali gave a bit of an explanation when he said that there was a large problem with stray dogs and that they tear people's garbage apart, sitting on the beach, observing beer cans and the like clustered about, I couldn't help but think it was mostly a human problem.

There are plenty of blind turn-offs on this stretch of road to pull into the sand dunes and take a swim. Just don't pull in too far and get stuck like some people we saw on the way out! Back on the sealed road we were about to turn inland when Ali started getting thirsty; he was craving Mavi. We looked at him perplexed. And his explanation left us no more satisfied. The roadside shop we stopped at was part fruit and veg shop, part deli, general store and seafood market (live blue-swimmer crabs were on display in a cage out front) all in one. Amongst that they also sold fresh puerto rican juices. Mavi (Mauby in other parts of the Caribbean) is the juice extracted from the bark of the Mavi or Colubrina tree mixed with sugar and spices. Doesn't sound so great, does it? Chase and I sampled Ali's before deciding to reject it completely. It was kind of interesting, a little like root beer (originally from the root of the sassafras tree, a common carbonated drink in the States), but it was a bit strong and funky for our liking. Chase got a fresh coconut water instead - straight from the coconut itself; all they do is pop the top off, jab in a straw and away you go, coconut and all. It's called Coco Frio, the water from a cold, green coconut. He liked it, but I thought it a bit weak. It was definitely just like water with only a hint of coconut. Though while drinking it he remarked that he couldn't tell how much was left because the coconut itself was so heavy. 



  Chase with his Coco Frio and Ali with his Mavi juice

Just before we stopped in the tourist mecca of Luquillo we stopped in the Luquillo for Puerto Ricans. A long row of restaurants and takeway shacks, known as The Kiosks, line a street just off of Route 3 and sit just back from the beach. As soon as we pulled in I could tell it was very much a locals place, a place where I probably wouldn't have stopped on our own, but travelling with Ali I wasn't worried at all. We started off at the east end and a endless row of back-to-back shops unfurled before us. Of course, they didn't have the best curb appeal but they looked nicer than anything else we'd seen so far this day, much nicer. It was a feast for the senses and the palate. We refrained from stuffing our stomachs and our arteries, mostly we just admired all kinds of fried food and traditional Puerto Rican stews and rices behind glass windows - like perusing a living museum of Puerto Rican culture.

Walking along a rainbow of coloured buildings it seemed the further along we went down the line the nicer and more elaborate they got; starting with nothing more than a takeaway counter and culminating in a full blown restuarant. Most were something in-between and most of them sold the exact same thing. It had a really casual, beachy vibe about it, some even had stools up at window counters for customers. Most shops had openings on either side, from the road/car park side through to the beach side, usually with patio seating on the latter.

Puerto Rican fried food is a variant on many Caribbean and Spanish concoctions and it is a fried cuisine completely unlike anything I've seen. Called Frituras, they have long things, round things, cone things, pancake things...the list goes on. I'll give you a quick run-down of these and some other Cocina Criolla, traditional PR foods, we discovered during our tour.

Bacalaitos or Bacalao: are the large flat round things which look like potato scallops. They are a deep-fried mixture of shredded salt-cod fish and batter.

Relleno de papa: is a deep fried ball of mashed potato with a ground meat filling.

Taquitos: these are tortillas rolled tightly and deep fried till they are crisp, usually with some kind of filling.

Pastelillos/Pastellos: Somewhat like an empanada or pasty, but with a more thin and flaky dough. They contain all kinds of fillings; ground beef, pork, chicken, seafood etc. 

Alcapurrias: made from a doughy mixture of mashed up tropical tubers and root vegetables, usually yautía (like a taro) but can contain ground squash, plantains and green banana. It is filled with ground meat or seafood and deep fried in oil (photo right). 

Surullitos: are the golden fried finger-shaped things. They are made from cornmeal, almost like a corndog without the sausage.

Canoas de Platanos - sweet plantain "canoes" stuffed with ground meat and covered with melted cheese. These looked delicious and creative - the things they do with a plantain around here! (Picture right).   

Tostones: These are those flattened and fried green plantains, usually served as a side, that I was telling you about in an earlier post.

 

Arroz con habichuelas: rice and red beans - the Puerto Rican staple. It is simmered with ham hock and Puerto Rican spices. Traditionally stewed with vegetables for a hearty meal.

Piononos: two sweet plantains sandwiched around a savory filling, usually a ground meat mixture called picadillo. The whole sandwich is then deep-fried in batter. Whoa! We had to try this one, it sounded and looked so good! (Pic right).

Carne Guisada - Puerto Rican beef stew

Chase getting into his pionono, (top), and below, more dishes including sliced green bananas with onion!

Out on the beach groups of Puerto Rican families were gathered enjoying each others company and their surroundings. One group even had a boom-box hanging from a tree - ingenious. However, the weather was starting to turn. The clouds were rolling in dark and sinister-looking, turning the sea a dull blue fringed with frothy foam when it broke. Then small spats of rain began to drop. Gently at first, then suddenly it became a torrent. We were quite far from the car, having walked the length of the kiosks and then cross to the beach. We took shelter under the nearest tree but that was pointless. We made a mad dash to an abandoned patio of one of the kiosks. We were drenched head to toe. I rung out my dress. We waited. The rain didn't dissipate, if anything, it got harder.

Then we saw the saddest thing. A little black dog, maybe two years old, shivering forlornly in the corner. Shrunken and manged. I've never, in my life, seen a dog's expression look so sad. I couldn't look. There was nothing I could do, so I couldn't look. But I'll never forget the look in his eyes.

Finally, Ali took one for the team and ran back to get the car. We drove the last small stretch to our destination, passing the entrance to El Yunque National Forest, which has the only toprical rainforest in the US national rainforest system and is supposed to have a magnificent waterfall to swim at. It's a green wonderland with an expanse of feathered emerald flowing and ebbing over trees, bushes and jagged misty peaks. It's a place we'll definitely have to visit during our stay.

Luquillo lies on the north east coast of the mainland of Puerto Rico and is pronounced Lu-KEE-yo. We didn't know anything other than that it was close to Fajardo when we set out. Turns out, it's a a bit of a resort area with a number of lovely beaches, including one of the finest in the territory, and has been labelled the Puerto Rican Riviera. And to Chase's delight, it was also a surfing hot spot. But we didn't have any time to spend sightseeing or lapping up the sand and surf, it was strictly an overnighter; we had to be on the ferry the next day to meet Eric, the home-owner of our hous-sit.



Boardrider's Rum Shack Bar and Grill

We were too early to meet Coden, our couchsurfing host, so we decided to find a cafe or bar to hang out in and wait. We actually found a great place called Boardrider's Rum Shack Bar and Grill. It's across the road from Playa La Pared, the surf beach. Surfing might not be the best here but it exists and apparently it's consistent. We met the owner, Juan, a young surfer dude who walked around the restaurant bare-foot and shirtless - what a life! We asked him how long he'd been here, he said "all my life". This space we were sitting in used to be his garage that he turned into a bar! The house is upstairs, he inherited from his parents.

And I guess, where there's surf, there's an Aussie, which didn't really excite us. Of course he was half drunk and boasting about his gig working on a yacht docked at fajardo and how he was best mates with Juan and the other local surfers. But the locals were all very friendly and it was a really cosy, relaxed place, definitely the best spot to kill an hour or so. There was a small patio area out front with a few tables and a pull-up window-bar seating. I had a quesadilla and Chase had his favourite - wings. It wasn't that agreat but it didn't matter. We even came back here for dinner with Coden because the place he wanted to go - some fantastic pasta place - was closed.

Speaking of Coden, he had a great apartment overlooking the ocean with a big hammock stretching the length of his balcony. He even ordered us a taxi for the morning's ride to Fajardo!

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*There are actually some more tourist-friendly kiosks around Loiza at a place called Piñones by the beach. Pictures show cute little beach huts in a landscaped setting with more civilised cooking techniques. They've turned this into a great little area which re-instates my faith in the rejuvination of Puerto Rico. There's a wonderful boardwalk that runs along the coast conducive to cycling and across the street the Pinones State Forest reserve has some awesome trails. I haven't been there yet, but by the pictures it looks comparative to coastal trails I've been on in New Zealand (here's hoping so!). To take a tour click here.

Boulevade of Dreams & The Great Wall

Old San Juan is a very walkable region. It feels like it's a lot bigger than it is, with its jam-packed buildings and winding, hilly streets. It's easy to feel lost but if you keep walking you'll eventually end up back in the same place as you started.

The people that settled here over the years created a beautifully structured city without a place left untouched by a plaza, a park or a monument. There was always something to see and admire in Old San Juan. Yet it gets really hot during the day and after a morning of walking you become thoroughly drained  and really feel like you need a siesta! Although that's not a custom in Puerto Rico it really should be adopted; Spain definitely has a point there. So while you could really see all there is to see in a day, or day and a half, I'm glad we had 3 days to spread out our sightseeing with some relaxed afternoons of hanging out at a bar or coffee shop, or taking that much needed siesta. 

The city wall, scene here at the entrance to Paseo de la Princesa, is

One of my favourite morning walks was along the southern side of the Muralla (wall), which we came across by accident with no plan set out. We started off heading down towards the ferry terminal where we found this cute little yellow neoclassical building called La Casita (The Little House - of course) in a plaza called La Dársena . It overlooks San Juan Bay and was originally built for the Department of Agriculture and Commerce in 1937. Across the street is the Tourist info centre (which has recently moved from La Casita) where we picked up some maps.

We also found a tiny coffee shop here at the ferry Terminal (Pier 2, Café Cola'o), which to our greatest surprise made a REAL cappuccino! We hadn't had one of those since we left Australia. It wasn't the best cappucino but it was still a cappuccino none-the-less, and that makes a world of difference. So by this stage, we were really liking San Juan, and Puerto Rico, immensely. But it was only getting started.

Not far from here is the beginning of a long section of the remaining wall, La Muralla. This defensive wall was built around the city starting in the early 1500′s to keep the city secure from invaders that regularly tried to steal this Spanish jewel. It was constantly being extended and heightened over the years as needed until it was finally completed in 1782. It's huge, almost 20 feet thick in places and up to 60 feet high at it's tallest. It is made of solid sandstone blocks held together with mortar, limestone, sand and water. The Garitas, or sentry boxes, are famous features of the wall, and it's forts, have become the official symbol of San Juan

We followed it west into the most beautiful tree-lined pedestrian walkway, called Paseo de la Princesa. It has a very European-esque feel with antique street lamps and a canopy of trees, which was a much-needed haven from the sun that was already beginning to intensify. We stopped at one of the many benches to take it all in. We also noted that it advertised itself as a free wifi hotspot. Nice.

"Originally created in 1853, the Paseo has been recently restored to its 19th century splendor. This broad brick boardwalk, enjoyed in the Spanish Colonial era by members of the gentry, now leads its visitors through a pleasant palm-lined paseo and sculptural showcase..."  (Eye Tour)

There were a few hidden gems along the way, a mysterious but attractive monument hidden beside the wall behind a locked fence, and a stylish restaurant, Cafe La Princesa, tucked al fresco between the trees and the wall. It made me wish we had money to spend on treats like this; I could just picture myself relaxing here with a glass of wine at one of those tables hidden amongst the vines, but alas, it looked a little out of our price-range. However that was all forgotten when we came out of the passageway and saw before us an even more magnificent sight; in front of us was the striking Raices Fountain.

ABOVE: the superb composition of the Raices Fountain framed by the
 trees and lamp posts on either side and the shimmering bay behind.

LEFT: the monument tucked by the fence that I couldn't and still
can't identify, but look how pretty it is.





This really is a magnificent fountain and the perfect ending for the paseo de la princesa by the edge of the bay. It has at its centre a bronze sculpture which symbolises the islands mixed cultural roots (Raices Fountain: 'raices' meaning 'roots' in Spanish). It's actually a very recent statue, completed in 1992 for the commemoration of the 500th anniversary of the New World , and depicts the Amerindian, African and Spanish origins of Puerto Rico as human figures "represented as a ship being steered out into the open sea with leaping dolphins leading the way to a bright 21st century future". (PuertoRico.Com)

The stately grey and white building on the corner here is called La Princesa and for centuries housed the city jail, one of the most feared  in the Caribbean. Built in 1837 it held up to 200 prisoners at it's peak. Though it's been restored it seems like it must have been one of the prettiest jails ever, with a lovely inner courtyard. It now houses the Puerto Rico Tourism Company headquarters which confusingly didn't include a tourism information centre. Besides a small gallery exhibition that we wandered through it didn't have much else going on but if anything providing a refreshing departure from the oppressing heat outside it's doors. Seemingly, in San Juan everywhere has super cold air-conditioning which is not a bad thing at all. We didn't realise you could get a quick tour of some of the old cells that were kept in their original condition, obviously you have to ask specifically.

From here, steps lead down to a narrow path that continues around the waterfront at the edge of the wall. This first part is enclosed by shady trees and it's a lovely spot to take a moment and look out across the bay to the hills on the other side of the harbour and the cute little boats bobbing on the water. Continuing further along out of the trees I got the shock of my life when a HUGE Iguana almost landed right on top of my head! I don't even think I've seen an iguana before in person, and here was one making it's delivery from the sky! Actually, a workman was sweeping the top of the wall and had just swept this Iguana right off the side - not stopping to think there might be people down below! I didn't know what was going on at first, I heard this massive splat and turned to see this stunned scaley green ugly thing about 2 ft from me. That could've been bad. Word of warning - don't walk close to the edge of the wall, you don't know what might fall on you!

The Culprit

My shock subsiding, we reached the bright red frame of La Puerta de San Juan - The San Gate. The wall, being the defense of the city, obviously had to have gates controlling the coming and going of people in and out of the city.  Three of the walls five (perhaps six, depending on what you read) gates lead into the city, and out of these this is the only one that remains today. It's probable there was always some kind of entrance here from the beginning but the present gate was built in 1635. This heavy wooden door, framed by a red painted buttress was for centuries the official entrance for notables who came to the city by boat and for all goods from trading ships. The doors were closed at sundown to cut off access to the city and protect the city from invaders. As you go through you get a sense of just how thick the wall is and that its not a 'gate' in the conventional sense of the word, but more like an antechamber between the big bad world outside the wall and the sanctum inside. We had now officially entered the gates of the Old San Juan.