I'm not sure who she is--maybe Tato's daughter?)
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Since we're in Puerto Rico, on the beachfront, and have brought our swim suits, we decided to take an early morning swim. The beach was pretty well empty, in part because it was off-season and in part because it was so early. This was the Atlantic Ocean, not the Caribbean (which is on the southern side of the island), and the waves were a bit stronger than they would have been in either the Caribbean or the Gulf of Mexico.
After the swim and breakfast, we took the bus into Old San Juan (based on directions for a sheet in the room, which turned out to be somewhat outdated). The bus went as far as the bus terminal rather than Plaza Colon, but there were smaller trolleys from the bus terminal into the main part of Old San Juan.
We started by walking down Calle Fortaleza to Parque de las Palomas (Pigeon Park) and Cristo Chapel. Pigeon Park is, not surprisingly, full of pigeons. This is interesting, though I can't say it is particularly scenic. (There is, however, less pigeon 'residue' than one would expect.) We then went up Calle Cristo to see San Juan Cathedral. It has a black-and-white parquet floor that is very uncathedral-like and a ceiling painted to look like carving but too low to fool anyone. Then we visited the Casa Blanca, Ponce de Leon's house. It was somewhat sparsely furnished (and I think none of the furnishings were the originals), but it also had an ethnographic museum upstairs. We walked back to the shops and stopped for a cold drink to refresh ourselves.
Getting to El Morro was the next order of business, but this was made somewhat difficult by the fact that they were constructing a new building right where the street we were supposed to take used to be. Even on foot negotiating San Juan isn't easy. And because the roads were closed, we ended up trekking across a field to get to El Morro. There was some question in our minds as to whether it was open--it looked pretty deserted except for the road crew working on the entrance road, but as we got close we could see a few tourists.
We managed to arrive during the lunch break, so no tours were starting soon, but we were content to walk around on our own. Though San Cristobal is bigger in total, more of El Morro is open to the public, so we had quite a lot to see of battlements, guard houses (one of which is famous as a symbol of Puerto Rico--it hangs out from the wall over the water), the lighthouse (destroyed in the 1898 invasion by the United States and later rebuilt and now being reconstructed), etc. It's worth noting that the United States seized Puerto Rico after the latter had been granted autonomy by Spain, so we were actually grabbing a separate country, not a Spanish territory. We did that sort of thing then. Now we're more subtle--we invade places to 'keep peace,' including the Dominican Republic and Grenada.
Anyway, after El Morro we walked along the water to San Juan Gate, where sailors used to debark and walk up the hill to San Juan Cathedral (before moving on to more earthly pleasures, no doubt). By now it was getting pretty hot--well, actually, it was already pretty hot--and we were tired out. So we decided to walk back to Plaza Col'n to catch the bus back. On the way we did some souvenir shopping and bought a reproduction of a cemi at a crafts shop. We also made a half-hearted attempt to find The Bookstore, which supposedly has the largest selection of English-language books in the city. Luckily for our luggage we couldn't find it.
We waited at Plaza Colon for over a half hour but none of the appropriate buses came by (even though one was listed on the pillar there). Finally we decided we needed to find the bus terminal and, in a very roundabout fashion and with the help of a Tourist Information Center, we eventually found it and our bus. I suspect all this change was to cut down on traffic in the old part of town- -the trolleys are much smaller than the buses.
We returned to the hotel without incident and rested up from our day's exertion. (I should note that a bus ride in San Juan costs twenty-five cents.)
For our last night in San Juan, I suggested to Mark that we eat at the Metropol, recommended in a couple of places as serving good, inexpensive Puerto Rican cuisine. Unfortunately, the address was given as a kilometer marker on a certain route. We couldn't find the markers or the restaurant. We called the restaurant and got better directions, but still couldn't locate it until we asked someone selling books on the street. It was tucked behind some trees and much further down the road than I thought.
However, it was worth the effort. The food was delicious and the service excellent. Mark had dehydrated himself and was drinking water in large quantities. After filling Mark's glass a third time in quick succession, the waiter took another glass from another table and kept them both filled. Mark had camarones rellenos con queso; I had the fiesta Cubana: congri, pork, Cuban tamale, arrow root, pot roast, ropa vieja, and rice with black beans. (Normally, I don't eat red meat, but when one is traveling and wants to try local food, it's hard to avoid.) All this was under $20 for the two of us, but we left a $5 tip for the great service.
Then back to the room to pack (my dress already has stains from where I've been sweating on the leather belt--it really is hot here) and turn in early; we leave at 7 AM.
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After a restless night, we were up early and checked out by 7 AM. There was a bit of a traffic jam at one of the intersections, perhaps caused by the heavy rain. At first it looked as if everyone was ignoring the light, but that turned out to be because there was a policeman directing traffic (unlike in the Dominican Republic, where traffic lights are apparently considered advisory only and people ignore them all the time). Once we got onto the main road things were easy, because all the traffic was headed into the city instead of towards the airport.
We returned our rental car, got checked in, and headed toward the gate. But the air conditioning in that section wasn't working, so we stayed in the main terminal until closer to boarding time.
This leg of our trip was on American Eagle, which is apparently the subsidiary of American Airlines that owns all the propeller planes. As a result, we had to check our carry-ons, since there was less storage for them, and we had to board from the runway (in the rain) instead of through a jetway. Luckily it wasn't raining too hard when we boarded. Our plane seemed to be something called an ATR42, if that means anything to anyone.
We were supposed to have a snack on this flight, but they announced they would not be providing it due to the weather. I'm not sure why not, as it was prefectly smooth at the level we were flying (16,000 feet). The plane left about a half hour late, and landed similarly (how much time can one make up on a one-hour propeller flight?). Though it was raining in San Juan, it was bright and sunny in Santo Domingo when we landed.
As is typical of many poor countries, the Dominican Republic plays the 'soak-the-tourist' game. A visitor's card (in lieu of a visa) is $10 each; the airport departure tax is another $10 each. I suppose it's a way to get badly needed money that they can think sink into El Faro (but more on that later).
The only practical way to get from the airport to Santo Domingo is by taxi (or rental car--for some reason Mark thought we were renting a car here, but we weren't). There is a bus, but it runs only five times a day and only to the central bus stop. Perhaps with a third the luggage we might have tried it, but with a fairly heavy carry-on each it didn't seem worthwhile.
It is a fairly long ride from the airport to town (over a half hour and most of that highway driving). The trip was uneventful except for when we almost hit a motorbike which tried to cut in front of us. The taxi fare to our hotel (the Hotel Cervantes) was 250 pesos, or US$20. This was considerably higher than the figures cited in our various tour books, which were in the US$7-10 range. It's a bit confusing, because the symbol for the Dominican peso is also '$', so one is often not sure whether a figure printed in a book is dollars or pesos, especially since the rate used to be 3 pesos to a dollar. Now it's 12.5 pesos to the dollar, and it's a bit more obvious. To avoid confusion, in this log I will spell out 'pesos' instead of using the symbol.
We discovered on arriving at the hotel that no one there spoke English (which I had suspected when I called to make the reservation). It was recommended by someone on the Net and turned out to be a reasonable choice. It was at least as good as Tres Palmas, and at about two-thirds the price (US$42 per night and a lot cheaper than the fancy hotels just a few blocks over). It would not be so bad, since I can understand Spanish if it is spoken relatively slowly, but when I asked people to speak 'mas despacio' I detected very little difference in speed. The pace of life on the islands may be leisurely, but the speech is not.
However, we managed and even managed to get directions to a bus stop to the Colonial Sector. But first we ate lunch at the Rally Restaurant a couple of blocks away. It came with garlic bread, as had the previous night's dinner--this seems to be standard. I had conch with garlic and Mark had octopus Creole style. (We also had a couple of Pepsis.) This came to 240 pesos (US$19.20) including tip. (The restaurants add a 10% service charge, but you're expected to add a bit more as well.)
After lunch, we walked about six blocks to the bus stop and caught our bus to the Colonial Sector. Our bus was an ex-school bus painted red, white, and blue. It was pretty beat up, but in much better shape than the innumerable Volkswagen minibuses which roam the streets taking on passengers. You know how people talk about something being an accident waiting to happen? Well, these minibuses looked like accidents that had happened but were still rolling. They are called guaguas. I don't know if that term is also appled to a larger bus like ours.
We got on the bus (which cost 2 pesos or 16 cents) and thought we would have to stand until some people already sitting two to a seat pushed over to make room for us. For all the complaints I have about a lot of the people we came into contact with, I have to say that the ordinary people we met were friendly to us, willing to give directions or help us out. Unfortunately, though, it's the others- -the people who see tourists only as an opportunity to make money-- who made more of an impression on us. Anyway, very soon we arrived at Parque Independencia (which was actually close enough to walk to if it wasn't the hottest part of the day) and walked down Calle El Conde to the oldest section. Calle El Conde seems to be the main shopping street in that area, closed to vehicular traffic and lined with stores. We got to the plaza just outside the Cathedral of Santa Maria the Minor when it started to pour. So we dashed into the cathedral, which we had planned to go to anyway. This is the oldest cathedral in the Western Hemisphere and may or may not contain the tomb of Christopher Columbus. It claims to have him buried there, but then so did the cathedral in Seville, and possibly also one in Havana. I suppose if you could visit all three then you could definitely say you had seen Columbus's tomb. |
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