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.

Eat, Drink and Be Merry in Old San Juan!

We usually eat in at our host's place whenever we couchsurf but Ali lived in a small apartment with the tiniest kitchen and being a bachelor, never cooked. But it didn't matter because San Juan had an abundance of cheap, good, local fare for us to sample, all we needed to know was where to look.

There are a few local secrets that could easily have been missed without the help of Ali. We tried to give the tourist traps and the expensive crap a miss and for the most part we succeeded. But we did get sucked in a couple of times; once at a place we just went into for two coffees and came out with an empty pocket and another time, by our own accord, when we happened upon a Ben and Jerry's - and we just couldn't resist going in. The best places, of course, were the local hangouts, and by far the cheapest -unbelievably so. You won't get fine dining or five-star service at these establishments but you will get a cozy atmosphere, a friendly attitude and delicious home-style fare.

And then there's the liquor; alcoholism could become rife in these parts. The home of rum, it is the drink of choice, cheap as chips, and the crystal and brown liquids flow like a kid down a waterslide. 

Here are the places we patronised during our stay:

Fatties: 102 O'Donnel St (between Sol and Luna Streets)

Eating at Fatties is like eating at your Puerto Rican cousins mama's house - in her cozy little kitchen. This hole-in-the-wall restaurant is only big enough to hold four tightly squeezed-in tables. Only a small sign on the door acknowledges its presence; there's no reservations, and at lunch, no menues either. Come for lunch and pull up a plastic chair, if there's one left. There's no being shy here, sit anywhere there's a chair. Luckily though, on the day we visited we were able to snag a table to ourselves. It's quite hot inside, the only relief coming from a wall-mounted fan. The decor is minimal save for a Bob Marley picture, a Jamaican flag, and a few odd bits and pieces. We did notice a photocopy of a write-up by Fodor's Travel Guide stuck to the wall which assured us we were in good hands. Reggae music pulsed through a boom box, and a telenovela (Spanish soap opera) flashed across a small TV. There was a unpretentious energy about the place.
 

The two women running the show were plump Jamiacan-Puerto Rican ladies, and they advertised a fusion of Caribbean soul food. We had the choice between two dishes, pork or chicken, straight-up (this is not the city for vegetarians). I made the big mistake of coming not so hungry and instead watched Chase devour his dish of pork chops, beans and rice with a delicious thin (but presumably fatty) sauce. Chase was kind enough to give me a bite or two before it was all gone.

We came back for dinner the next night so I could get my fill of Fatties too. We came early and there was no one there and we were surprised to be received with a real menu this time. Spoilt for choice we didn't know what to have but the young Jamaican lady gave us some great tips. She introduced herself as Shona, after Chase made a faux pas by calling her 'Ma'am'. She obviously didn't like that, but she was refresingly sincere and straight-forward, and there were no hard feelings. Chase chose the jerk chicken while I went out on a limb with the fried snapper for around $12 each. All dishes were served with rice, beans, green salad, and fried plantains.

The realisation that we weren't in a traditional restaurant then came back when she said the jerk chicken would take about a half an hour to prepare and that we could go for a wander and come back if we liked. It was great to know it was fresh on the spot, and it also gave us an opportunit to try the bar El Farolito down the road (see below). We came back livelier than ever and tucked into another delicious meal. The picture of Chase, above, says it all. 

El Batey: 101 Calle de Cristo (near El Convento)

It really is Batty! Actually, 'batey' was a strange Spanish word to figure out. It means something along the lines of 'forecourt' or is a term used for where the sugar worker's lived during plantation days. So I just decided to defer to my English example above.

We walked passed this dive bar, dimly lit with bars on the windows, and of course Chase wanted to go in and have a drink, because, as he said, "it looked 'local'". Yes, it did look local, which was precisely the reason I didn't want to go in. In Australia, it can be unwise to walk into a local's haunt - particularly when it's surrounded by cheesy tourists. But it was a great, grungy spot and the locals weren't too scary, they were at least expats. There's writing and graffiti all over the walls from head to toe, no spot untouched, and business cards hang precariously from the dingy lamp shades lining the bar. There was even a pool table, but it was occupied, and we just wanted a drink anyway.

Medalla is the local beer of choice here, (ie. cheap), and for the ladies, cocktails, of course! Forget $12-15 on one of these bad-boys, they're cheap and free-flowing around here. I went for a standard margarita (yet to get into my rum phase), and it was tasty, strong, and in this tropical climate, extremely refreshing! Ater tip and tax we still came out with change from $10! Great location too, ironically, it's just down the road from the San Juan Cathedral and El Convento Hotel!

Cafe Mallorca: 300 Calle San Francisco (opp. Plaza de la Barandilla)

This photo of Cafe Mallorca is courtesy of TripAdvisor

Step into Cafe Mallorca and you've stepped back in time - to the 60s! And the guy that serves you has been there since the 60s too. Well, not quite that long, but since big hair and shoulder pads were in style. This place is an institution, a diner like you can only dream about now, and it's a great place to grab breakfast away from the tourist crowd. It's sister to La Bonbonera, the same but more famous diner, now tainted with tourists spilling out it's doors. 

Pull up a stool at the counter and watch the old boys, dressed in smart little black waiter's jackets and matching cap, put together a meal you won't forget. Chase and Ali got the house speciality, the mallorca with ham and cheese. A mallorca is a semi-sweet, egg-based bun which originates from none other than Malloca, Spain. At this point it sounds delicious, especially with the mandatory thick layer of powdered sugar that covers the bun like snow on the top of Everest. But I'm not one for mixing sweet and savoury in such a blatant manner, and once you add the melted butter, cheese and ham, I have to opt out. I took to the front window instead, unable to make up my mind from the selection of delicious pastries that filled it's large frame. Powdered sugar flows like a blizzard within these walls, covering almost every dish, and anything that isn't can happily be righted. My pastry was good, but I should have gotten the sweet cheese one istead. Chase and Ali's sandwhich was slapped together with precise speed and presented to them open faced - with tonnes of sugar. The coffee comes "con leche" (with milk), which American's remark about because in the States it is usually black, but for me this was familiar and welcoming. Did I mention it was also dirt cheap?

El Farolito: 277 Calle de Sol, Old San Juan (across from El Jibarito)

This is by far the smallest bar I've ever seen and may just be the smallest bar in the world! Ali pointed this out one night when we were walking passed and if I didn't know what it was I would have surely missed it. It looked just like it was someone's door-step where people were hanging out, having some fun and listening to some music. We walked passed a number of times and vowed to go in but it was always packed (not hard) with people spilling out onto the street.

We finally got out our chance the night we were waiting for Auntie Fattie to cook our meal. It was quite early so it was a good time to go to get a seat. There was only one guy there besides the bartender. It looked like a great place you'd want to tend bar at, chatting one-on-one with your customers, mixing a few drinks, and there was even a chess board on the bar - maybe you could play the barman for a free drink! There was enough room for only 6 stools around the tiny bar, a tiny table squeezed in the front and a table in the dim back. A big bright mural on the wall lightened the place up and local artworks were on display. It was the coolest bar and how bars should be; quaint and intimate.

El Farolita means 'The Lantern' in Spanish.

La Fonda Del Jibarito: 280 calle de sol

Usually just called El Jibarito, this is another no-fuss, low-cost, traditional eatery along the lines of Fatties, but more of what you'd call a 'restaurant'. La Fonda means 'The Inn' and I believe El Jibarito means 'hillbilly' in Puerto Rican slang. They serve traditional "criolla" (Creole) food in a dining hall type atmosphere. Abundant chatter rises to the lofty ceilings surrounded by colourful decor drowned in Puerto Rican kitsch (though I liked the mock Old San Juan building facades lining the far wall). The staff were helpful explaining the menu to us. I went for the roast beef which was delicious, while chase got the very traditional pasteles (similar to a Tamale). We both got side orders of rice and beans, though I'd come to find out a popular choice is the Mofongo (a mound of mashed plaintains). In what was becoming true Puerto Rican fashion, the menu was presented hand-written and photocopied.

Ben & Jerry's: 61 Calle del Cristo (a block up from El Batey)

So not at all Puerto Rican but an eccentric American Ice-cream brand started in the late 70s. Built around an alternate style of living, their ice-cream flavours contain funky names like Chubby Hubby and Imagine Whirled Peace, and they are also actively involved in good causes.

After hanging out with our American friends Tom and Amy I'd been converted. Ben and Jerry's ice-cream is pretty darn tasty - and their marketing is very effective. I do remember a Ben and Jerry's store in Atlanta that we'd pass by often when we lived there, but at the time I was more of a Cold Stone ice-creamery kinda gal. This wasn't the most traditional place to try it, but I decided to hop over the threshold into the world of B&J's for my premier experience. We were also hungry and it was the closest thing we could see that we knew wouldn't cost a fortune (see the coffee episode below). The food was so-so (American-ish sandwiches of course), the decor exotic, but the ice-cream did not disappoint.

Al Dente: Calle Recinto Sur 309 (the expensive side of town)

Ok, I'm sure this restaurant is superb, extremely classy and the best Italian food in San Jaun. While there's nothing wrong with these type of places, they're not for our budget. Sporting a couple of chefs hats, that should've been our cue to run for the hills. But we wanted to have a coffee and didn't want to trudge the extra mile to our special place by the ferry terminal. I wanted to strive to get back there but Chase thought it'd be a good idea to venture out and try something new. Big Mistake.

It turned out to be the most expensive coffee EVER! Sure, it was huge, as big a a soup mug, and took as long as simmering a soup to make; it was an incredible piece of engineering. But it was NOT worth $6 a piece! Chase got the bill and kept a poker face in front of the waiter. I am always nervous at this point, I like to know my prices straight up before I order anything, but without a hint of revelation in Chase's expression I breathed a sigh of relief. However, as soon as the waiter left Chase let loose (I didn't know Chase's poker face was so good!).

We were stupefied. The blow was even more brutal now we were accustomed to Puerto Rican prices. And the coffee wasn't that good either. And, if I'd have known it was going to cost me as much as a decent Puerto Rican meal I would've finished the whole thing till I puked.

Old San Juan - A Graceful Old Lady

This has to be one of the most charming Old Towns I've ever been to.

I won't say "the best" because I know there's a lot of competition for that title. For starters, Stockholm's Gamla Stan is a great one, Prague also is enchanting. But it's been a long time since I've been to Stockholm and time being a fickle thing, has blurred it in my memory. And Prague? Beautiful, yes, but for me, she's a bit too exuberant; too many architectural styles competing for attention crammed together. It's also not so well maintained. Madrid, the capital of the colonial homeland, didn't hold a candle to Old San Juan either, though that's more of what I had expected when I went there. And sure, there's plenty of other old towns I haven't been to yet, but something about this old town has just me won over.

It's the profusion of colour abounding in Old San Juan that initially sucks you in, and the clean-cut architecture. The buildings aren't particularly intricate, but their simple design and bold colours are striking. There are a handful of lavish buildings that are majestic and tastefully done. Other than that, only now and then is there a hint of ornateness in the window trim or the balcony to set it off. Most buildings are only 2 or 3 stories high but they still seem to loom above you. Matched with the opaque blue cobblestone streets, winding down the steep hilly slopes in a mirage of colour it produces an Alice-in-Wonderland type awe. You turn a corner expecting to find the hide of the white rabbit dashing around the next corner.

Of course the magic of this city lies also in it's deep history. It's some 460 years old and is the second oldest European city in the Americas. It still contains a large portion of the wall that once surrounded the entire city.  It's 7-square-block area has evolved into a charming residential and commercial district including more than 400 carefully restored 16th- and 17th-century Spanish colonial buildings which are accented by parks, plazas, churches and 2 forts at either end of the city. A wise visionary back in the 1940s cautioned the government against modernising the district. The preservation of these buildings and laws requiring new buildings to incorporate the same architectural elements has allowed this city to flourish into the 21st Century. It was declared a world heritage site in 1983.

(Left: The cobblestones are adoquine, a blue stone cast from furnace slag; they were brought over as ballast on Spanish ships and time and moisture have lent them their characteristic colour)
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Old San Juan was built at the far west end of a small, narrow island in the bay of San Juan, commanding the entrance to the harbour. It wasn't till the end of the 19th century that the city even expanded outside it's walls, when the east side of the wall was removed to incorporate Puerta de Tierra, the rest of this tiny island (now housing most of Puerto Rico's government institutions, including the Capitol and Supreme Court). The metropolis of San Juan is now a large gritty sprawl like any urban city with a large low socio-economic demographic and roughly half the island's population living in this area.


The grey building closest on the left has the garden

  

We had the good fortune of staying right in the middle of Old San Juan with a couchsurfer named Ali who is now also a good friend. He had a cute, tiny aparment on the top floor (3rd floor). It had high ceilings, and proportionate-sized doors and windows. Wooden doors containing levered shutters opened up to slight balconies, and even the main door had the same type doors with no glass or gauze, just straight out to the elements. It made for a nice cross-breeze but was trouble when it rained hard! Directly opposite us across the street,the top floor contained just the facade of the building below, and through hollow windows you could see plants growing and strings of vines folding out down the edge of the window panes. It looked fantastical. But actually it was really a mid-city vegetable garden; a kind of coop garden for kids to grow their own vegetables. Wow, I thought, what a progressive idea in an age-old city.

We felt remarkably safe in this city - though admittedly it was the tourist area - but we wanted to find out what the locals had to say. Our constant questions of "is San Juan safe" were always met with a mention of La Perla, the slum area on the rocky north coast of the city wall. Ali, our couchsurfing host and a native Puerto Rican said that this area developed during a time when the workers, slaves and non-white servants lived outside the city walls. They would be let in to work during the day and thrown out in the evening, and there, by the side of the wall, their settlement grew. It is still an ad-hoc village housing the outcasts of society, now synonomous with drug trafficking and crime. It is the only place that is off-limits in San Juan, and the rumour is that not even Police will go in.

Arguably one might say we didn't see the real San Juan, and no, we probably didn't really. We hardly ventured outside the walls except to arrive and leave! Yet we saw the San Juan of yesterday, the one that tells it's story and captures it's essence, the San Juan that lingers in peoples memories. We also had some unique experiences thanks to our host, Ali, who among other things, introduced us to some local haunts, and those I will tell you about in the next post.

Aerial view of La Perla (from Wikipedia)