The first Spanish location
We hadn't really planned on going to Puerto Rico, but when it turned out that all flights into the US from the Caribbean went via the island, we thought we'd spend a few days there and have a look around. And we're glad we did.
Puerto Rico was the first Caribbean island we'd been to which didn't have English as its first language, but our lack of Spanish wasn't a problem. As you probably know, Puerto Rico is sort of part of the United States. It isn't a state, but it's not a separate country either; the citizens have US passports and so on, but no representation in the US government institutions. In fact it came as a surprise to us when we were handed our landing cards on the plane and they were the ones you'd normally fill out when flying directly into the States (you know the one - "are you a terrorist.... are you a nazi.... are you a drug dealer?"). On landing, we went through customs and a very friendly official stamped our passports. This wasn't right at all. We've both been to the States a few times and US customs officials are never friendly. Surely there should be abrupt questions about our unusual route into the country... what about the colourful Suriname visa? Wouldn't that raise an eyebrow? Nope, just a quick chat about what a nice trip we were on, and we were waved through. What a pleasant change - if only the surly American Airlines cabin crew were as nice. Honestly, I don't think we'll be flying AA be choice again. The staff were miserable staff, the planes shabby, no inflight meal. In a word, rubbish.
We headed off to the tourist office. We knew where we wanted to stay that evening, but thought they might be able to help us call ahead and reserve, as the mobile phone bills were beginning to mount up and there was always a chance the person on the other end of the phone might only speak Spanish. Well, I've never met a more helpful person than the lady that greeted us in the bright modern office (once we'd found it). She was cheerful, full of advice and more than happy to phone ahead and book things for us. We'd gone from the Speyside Sulk to the San Juan Smile. There was however a problem - the weather.
We'd arrived on the plane in a thunderstorm, with lightning streaking across the sky. You get a great view of it from the aeroplane window, though it is a bit unnerving. I know planes are designed to cope with lightening strikes, but I'd rather not test that it all works properly. It looked like the storm was here to stay for about three days - exactly the amount of time we'd be spending in Puerto Rico. We went through various options, all of which involved going to bits of the island we hadn't really planned on visiting, and eventually decided to stick to our original plan and risk the wrath of the thunder gods. The itinerary included the Arecibo Observatory, the vast caves at Camuy, and then on into the central mountains to stay in a parador. Again, the helpful tourist office lady thought ahead, and gave a call to the caves to check they were still open despite the torrential rain. It's good she did. They were shut on Mondays. A quick check of the brochure and yep, so was the observatory. In fact it was shut on Tuesdays too. Great, that's those plans out the window. Anyway, time was pressing on, so we'd just have to drive straight to the hacienda and miss out those attractions.
As expected, the rental car was an automatic, and one of the most nondescript cars I've ever seen. I don't think we have Toyota Echos in Europe but we might do - I wouldn't have noticed it. Unfortunately, it also seems to be invisible to Puerto Rican drivers. That's the only explanation I have for the number of times they cut us up, almost collided with us, and so on. Once away from the sprawling city of San Juan and onto the main roads it was fine. And what a difference to the the road networks elsewhere in the Caribbean. These were wide eight-lane freeways, proper American roads (complete with tyre-detritus strewn around the very solid-looking central reservation).
By this time, the lack of food on the plane was taking its toll, and we were getting hungry. The freeway had dropped to maybe three lanes each way, and strip-malls had started appearing along the roadside. Not very scenic at all. It was like the ugly bits around Los Angeles, and not all what you'd expect of a Caribbean island. So we didn't get to try a nice bit of creole fish by the beach, and had to settle for a Wendy's burger instead - it was either that or Dunkin Donuts.
It was obvious when we were in the queue that this would be our first language challenge. Everyone was speaking Spanish, the signs were in Spanish, and we looked very out of place. I was a good foot taller than anyone else in the room. So we did what you'd always do in these situations and ordered by pointing at a numbered meal. Of course this being a fast-food joint in America (or at least a kind of pseudo-America) there was the usual stream of questions about fries-or-slaw, super-sizing, bizarre combo meals and so on, all delivered in Spanish. I nodded at what I hoped were the right moments and got pretty much what I wanted, even if the cola was served in a bucket. As we consumed our sugar and oil, we looked around the room. The people here might be short, but they certainly weren't small. There's no doubt the US obesity epidemic had been exported to Puerto Rico along with the fast-food chains.
We left them eating their burgers and used the good roads to eat into the miles instead (actually, no, kilometres - Puerto Rico is a bit schizophrenic about its use of imperial and metric; distances are in kilometres, speeds are in miles-per-hour, and gasolene is in gallons). But soon the roads dwindled into the single lane hairpins dotted with dogs and chickens that we had grown to love. Still, no potholes which was a welcome relief. Another difference was the driving. Now we were off the freeway, the behaviour could not have been more sensible. No dodgy overtaking, no speeding, no random horn-blowing. The pace of life had slowed right down and everyone was chilled.
We arrived at the parador, and had a look around. It had seen better days, but was a pleasant place. It was run by the state, and seemed to be popular with the locals. It was set up for families, with a swimming pool, and games room complete with pool table. The location was wonderful, with green hills all around and very clean air. Dinner was included with the room which was fortunate as there wasn't really anywhere else to eat. The food was bland and disappointing and the waiter was more interested in the waitress than in serving us. Still, it was filling.
I was still annoyed that we'd had to drive past the caves and observatory, and the next morning had a closer look at the leaflets. Now I spotted that during the summer holidays, the caves were open on Tuesdays after all. It would mean retracing our steps, but I was determined to do something other than just drive. So back we went, and arrived at the caves to be met by a security guard who said they were shut for lunch - for the next two hours. This was getting crazy. How did they expect anyone to visit any of their tourist attractions? Temporarily defeated, we decided to spend the next couple of hours driving up to the observatory anyway.
It would be closed but the drive was apparently a scenic one, and we might get a nice view. It was indeed a nice drive and we pulled into the empty car park and wandered over to the security guard on the gate. I asked if it was open, and after hearing the answer turned around and started walking back to the car. Esther pointed out that he'd said it was open. What kind of place is open when it's shut and shut when it's open? Crazy. And so in we went.
It was good. The observatory houses the world's largest radio telescope. You might well have seen it before as it was used in both the films GoldenEye and Contact.
The dish is a huge bowl between the mountains, made into a perfect parabola and lined with individually shaped metal tiles that reflect the radio waves back into a number of collectors. It's impressive in the sheer scale of the thing, but it's a shame you can't really see images directly. Instead you have to settle for a short film about the observatory (a typically dated "day in the life" kind of film more about the badly-dressed people that work there that the universe the observatory studies) and an entertaining and comprehensive exhibition about the planets and beyond as well as the formation of the universe. In fact we spent so long there we didn't have time to go to the caves in the end, but had to push on to our next destination, Fajardo on the eastern coast of the island.
Fajardo wasn't meant to be a pretty town, but in a good location for exploring the El Yunqué rainforest and mountains. The town lived up to its reputation and was indeed dull. The hotel we'd picked from our guide looked like a small business hotel and was in an area that was mostly industrial units and building sites. This would not do at all. It was getting late, but looking at the map we could see a fast freeway could get us around to the other side of the rainforest and within striking distance of an ecolodge. We gave them a call, and yes they had rooms. In fact we could take our pick as we'd be the only people staying that night. Oh, and eat first as the cook only comes in when there are confirmed guests. So we continued our exploration of Puerto Rican fast-food with a couple of Subway sandwiches in a car park with the torrents of rain soaking us in minutes, and then made our way to the lodge.
What a beautiful location. The lodge was one of the last buildings on a winding road that made its way up the mountain. There was very little traffic as the road that used to join the north and south of the forest had been severed by a landslide some years earlier. The building was arranged over a few floors and around an open courtyard, and all the rooms had views over the rainforest valley (and nothing else). A path worked its way down to a river where there were a couple of pleasant swimming holes and waterfalls. Matthew, the owner was very friendly and showed us around the place. He had plenty of info about the island, and of South America. He'd lived in Puerto Rico for most of his life and was only too happy to share stories over slices of mango. We read our books in the courtyard sampling the beers from the honesty-fridge (for the record, Medalla Light, the local brew was a foul chemical-metalic concoction, and Presidente from the Dominican Republic the clear winner), whilst being harassed by insects that must have escaped from the set of a horror movie. They were huge.
This was more like it.
Puerto Rico was the first Caribbean island we'd been to which didn't have English as its first language, but our lack of Spanish wasn't a problem. As you probably know, Puerto Rico is sort of part of the United States. It isn't a state, but it's not a separate country either; the citizens have US passports and so on, but no representation in the US government institutions. In fact it came as a surprise to us when we were handed our landing cards on the plane and they were the ones you'd normally fill out when flying directly into the States (you know the one - "are you a terrorist.... are you a nazi.... are you a drug dealer?"). On landing, we went through customs and a very friendly official stamped our passports. This wasn't right at all. We've both been to the States a few times and US customs officials are never friendly. Surely there should be abrupt questions about our unusual route into the country... what about the colourful Suriname visa? Wouldn't that raise an eyebrow? Nope, just a quick chat about what a nice trip we were on, and we were waved through. What a pleasant change - if only the surly American Airlines cabin crew were as nice. Honestly, I don't think we'll be flying AA be choice again. The staff were miserable staff, the planes shabby, no inflight meal. In a word, rubbish.
We headed off to the tourist office. We knew where we wanted to stay that evening, but thought they might be able to help us call ahead and reserve, as the mobile phone bills were beginning to mount up and there was always a chance the person on the other end of the phone might only speak Spanish. Well, I've never met a more helpful person than the lady that greeted us in the bright modern office (once we'd found it). She was cheerful, full of advice and more than happy to phone ahead and book things for us. We'd gone from the Speyside Sulk to the San Juan Smile. There was however a problem - the weather.
We'd arrived on the plane in a thunderstorm, with lightning streaking across the sky. You get a great view of it from the aeroplane window, though it is a bit unnerving. I know planes are designed to cope with lightening strikes, but I'd rather not test that it all works properly. It looked like the storm was here to stay for about three days - exactly the amount of time we'd be spending in Puerto Rico. We went through various options, all of which involved going to bits of the island we hadn't really planned on visiting, and eventually decided to stick to our original plan and risk the wrath of the thunder gods. The itinerary included the Arecibo Observatory, the vast caves at Camuy, and then on into the central mountains to stay in a parador. Again, the helpful tourist office lady thought ahead, and gave a call to the caves to check they were still open despite the torrential rain. It's good she did. They were shut on Mondays. A quick check of the brochure and yep, so was the observatory. In fact it was shut on Tuesdays too. Great, that's those plans out the window. Anyway, time was pressing on, so we'd just have to drive straight to the hacienda and miss out those attractions.
As expected, the rental car was an automatic, and one of the most nondescript cars I've ever seen. I don't think we have Toyota Echos in Europe but we might do - I wouldn't have noticed it. Unfortunately, it also seems to be invisible to Puerto Rican drivers. That's the only explanation I have for the number of times they cut us up, almost collided with us, and so on. Once away from the sprawling city of San Juan and onto the main roads it was fine. And what a difference to the the road networks elsewhere in the Caribbean. These were wide eight-lane freeways, proper American roads (complete with tyre-detritus strewn around the very solid-looking central reservation).
By this time, the lack of food on the plane was taking its toll, and we were getting hungry. The freeway had dropped to maybe three lanes each way, and strip-malls had started appearing along the roadside. Not very scenic at all. It was like the ugly bits around Los Angeles, and not all what you'd expect of a Caribbean island. So we didn't get to try a nice bit of creole fish by the beach, and had to settle for a Wendy's burger instead - it was either that or Dunkin Donuts.
It was obvious when we were in the queue that this would be our first language challenge. Everyone was speaking Spanish, the signs were in Spanish, and we looked very out of place. I was a good foot taller than anyone else in the room. So we did what you'd always do in these situations and ordered by pointing at a numbered meal. Of course this being a fast-food joint in America (or at least a kind of pseudo-America) there was the usual stream of questions about fries-or-slaw, super-sizing, bizarre combo meals and so on, all delivered in Spanish. I nodded at what I hoped were the right moments and got pretty much what I wanted, even if the cola was served in a bucket. As we consumed our sugar and oil, we looked around the room. The people here might be short, but they certainly weren't small. There's no doubt the US obesity epidemic had been exported to Puerto Rico along with the fast-food chains.
We left them eating their burgers and used the good roads to eat into the miles instead (actually, no, kilometres - Puerto Rico is a bit schizophrenic about its use of imperial and metric; distances are in kilometres, speeds are in miles-per-hour, and gasolene is in gallons). But soon the roads dwindled into the single lane hairpins dotted with dogs and chickens that we had grown to love. Still, no potholes which was a welcome relief. Another difference was the driving. Now we were off the freeway, the behaviour could not have been more sensible. No dodgy overtaking, no speeding, no random horn-blowing. The pace of life had slowed right down and everyone was chilled.
We arrived at the parador, and had a look around. It had seen better days, but was a pleasant place. It was run by the state, and seemed to be popular with the locals. It was set up for families, with a swimming pool, and games room complete with pool table. The location was wonderful, with green hills all around and very clean air. Dinner was included with the room which was fortunate as there wasn't really anywhere else to eat. The food was bland and disappointing and the waiter was more interested in the waitress than in serving us. Still, it was filling.I was still annoyed that we'd had to drive past the caves and observatory, and the next morning had a closer look at the leaflets. Now I spotted that during the summer holidays, the caves were open on Tuesdays after all. It would mean retracing our steps, but I was determined to do something other than just drive. So back we went, and arrived at the caves to be met by a security guard who said they were shut for lunch - for the next two hours. This was getting crazy. How did they expect anyone to visit any of their tourist attractions? Temporarily defeated, we decided to spend the next couple of hours driving up to the observatory anyway.
It would be closed but the drive was apparently a scenic one, and we might get a nice view. It was indeed a nice drive and we pulled into the empty car park and wandered over to the security guard on the gate. I asked if it was open, and after hearing the answer turned around and started walking back to the car. Esther pointed out that he'd said it was open. What kind of place is open when it's shut and shut when it's open? Crazy. And so in we went.It was good. The observatory houses the world's largest radio telescope. You might well have seen it before as it was used in both the films GoldenEye and Contact.
The dish is a huge bowl between the mountains, made into a perfect parabola and lined with individually shaped metal tiles that reflect the radio waves back into a number of collectors. It's impressive in the sheer scale of the thing, but it's a shame you can't really see images directly. Instead you have to settle for a short film about the observatory (a typically dated "day in the life" kind of film more about the badly-dressed people that work there that the universe the observatory studies) and an entertaining and comprehensive exhibition about the planets and beyond as well as the formation of the universe. In fact we spent so long there we didn't have time to go to the caves in the end, but had to push on to our next destination, Fajardo on the eastern coast of the island.Fajardo wasn't meant to be a pretty town, but in a good location for exploring the El Yunqué rainforest and mountains. The town lived up to its reputation and was indeed dull. The hotel we'd picked from our guide looked like a small business hotel and was in an area that was mostly industrial units and building sites. This would not do at all. It was getting late, but looking at the map we could see a fast freeway could get us around to the other side of the rainforest and within striking distance of an ecolodge. We gave them a call, and yes they had rooms. In fact we could take our pick as we'd be the only people staying that night. Oh, and eat first as the cook only comes in when there are confirmed guests. So we continued our exploration of Puerto Rican fast-food with a couple of Subway sandwiches in a car park with the torrents of rain soaking us in minutes, and then made our way to the lodge.
What a beautiful location. The lodge was one of the last buildings on a winding road that made its way up the mountain. There was very little traffic as the road that used to join the north and south of the forest had been severed by a landslide some years earlier. The building was arranged over a few floors and around an open courtyard, and all the rooms had views over the rainforest valley (and nothing else). A path worked its way down to a river where there were a couple of pleasant swimming holes and waterfalls. Matthew, the owner was very friendly and showed us around the place. He had plenty of info about the island, and of South America. He'd lived in Puerto Rico for most of his life and was only too happy to share stories over slices of mango. We read our books in the courtyard sampling the beers from the honesty-fridge (for the record, Medalla Light, the local brew was a foul chemical-metalic concoction, and Presidente from the Dominican Republic the clear winner), whilst being harassed by insects that must have escaped from the set of a horror movie. They were huge.
This was more like it.
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