Set a Course For Adventure...

Old San Juan in the morning, swimming at one of the beaches we've liked in the afternoon. GO!

We rode the A5 in to Old San Juan, waiting all of three minutes before its prompt arrival. Friday is also some kind of holiday, though I haven't bothered to find out which; that combined with Wednesday's holiday means that a whole lot of people aren't working today, so the bus schedule was a workday schedule, but with very few riders. Best of all worlds for us, bus-wise.

Once back in that fair city, we split up - Janneke and Tess to the childrens' museum, where Tess had had such a grand time and was eager to return, and Quinn and I to the other great fortress of the city, at the other end of the seaward wall: San Cristobal. Although as we walked out of the bus station, we saw an absolutely enormous cruise ship docked only a block or so away, so Quinn and I detoured boatward first to check things out.

The old city is so small, and the cruise ship is so big, that it suddenly seemed the place was crawling with non-Puerto Ricans, much more so than the last time we were there. People who were always a few blocks away from their hotel rooms - cameras and wallets, but no bags of useful junk, such as we always carry with us. These were leisure travelers, no doubt. And by and large a sort of uninterested, cursory-glancing bunch as well. I saw lots of families, a large number with teenage children, much more than with quite wee ones - that time in life must be when cruises are more attractive. A lot of languages being spoken as well. These were certainly not all Americans.

But they didn't make the fortress crowded - in fact, it had considerably fewer visitors than El Morro had had when we visited. The Spanish military does not fare very well in the exhibits there - one mentions that the effective range of the Howitzers in place at the fort in 1898 when the Americans attaced was 11,000 meters. They also mentioned that the attacking gunships were within 2,500 meters, and that none was hit during the attack. But Quinn was much more interested in the older aspects of the fort, and imagined pirates everywhere.

We were to meet Janneke and Tess at noon, at the same place where we'd eaten miserable, dry, microwaved tacos on our last visit to the city center. I determined I would scout out a better option on our way to the rendezvous, and found one - 19th-century kiosks on the square fronting the mayor's office. We had walked past them many times without realizing there were active businesses inside, because the kiosks have been left completely unchanged and unadorned by signs. Lovely, tastefully-decorated buildings, that served crepes and other affordable lunchtime items.

We got to the children's museum with about 25 minutes to spare, so QUinn, who was footsore, sat in the park in front of it while I explored a bit around, checking back with him every 5 minutes or so. I entered the church that's the "protectora de Puerto Rico", and which has been so ineffective in its protection that its gold ornaments have all been stolen so many times over that the inside is really pretty barren. I also checked out a hotel in the nearby former convent, and it is enormous, gorgeous, and much better represented on its website (http://www.elconvento.com/) than it could ever be here. Check it out, it's really gorgeous. So much so that I went back to the park and rousted Quinn out of his Gatorade guzzling to make him come see it. I mean, it's on Calle Cristo, the most gorgeous street on Earth. How could it not be?

We met up with Janneke and Tess and steered them to the new luncheonette, and all enjoyed some very, very deep fried items, as is fitting with our having gone native and all. The kids fed pigeons while Janneke did some souvenir shopping, and then we all walked back to the bus station - strolled, really, reveling in our last visit to the lovely old place. The merry racket of construction rang down many of the streets we gazed longingly up and down, an indicator of how much nicer it may still get - it's all renovation of old stuff, no new hideous construction anywhere. They've got a gem here, and they know it.

The wait for the bus was short as could be, and in twenty minutes we were all in the water at El Escambron. I have to say, though, I think I'm a landlubber. The salt water still seems to give me headaches, and I'm pretty content to sit in the sand and watch the kids bob about, though I'd be happier reading a book there, or snoozing . But we're not quite there yet with Tess. (Although she is now pretty well safe in the water, as long as she's not out of sprint distance.)

Walking away from the beach, a man staggered up to me and gave me a sob story about being 90 cents short of being able to buy some apparatus that would help him breathe. I told him no, and he shuffled off. Quinn asked what he'd wanted - I said money. "How much?" "A dollar." Quinn smiled, amazed, eyes widening. "Papi!", he said, dumbfounded at my greed. So we had a pretty interesting conversation about why people should or shouldn't give money to street people, how likely it is that their sob stories are true, how likely it is in this particular case (we were able to observe the man at a distance and talk about him some), etc. Pretty interesting topic to tackle at age 7.

We hit the beautiful park near Escambron for a half hour or so after the swimming, but both kids were droopy, so we hit the bus stop pretty directly - and had to wait about 2 minutes this time. Three for three. And by the way, guess who was on the bus? The panhandler from the beach, droopy-eyed and smiling, head lolling back and forth, same tin can in his hand as when we'd seen him earlier. Looks like he scraped together enough to buy him a shot of whatever particuar "medicine" he was after. We didn't point any of that out to Quinn, or bring it up - That's a bit too much for age 7, methinks. Addictions are a subject I'll broach... Oh, let's see...How about...Never. How's never for you?

By the time supper wound up around 7:40, we had two bed-ready kids. They could barely keep their eyes open for Dominoes - actually had to poke them a couple of times. (I, by the way, have recently pulled into the lead. And Quinn calls me "El milagro" because of my come-from-behind prowess, shown tonight as well as last night, when I came back from having to draw five dominoes and came within a point of winning the round. So there.)

We are really very saddened to leave Old San Juan behind. On a future trip maybe we can stay there, even, and maybe the kids can appreciate it more. Or maybe we'll buy a vacation home there, and we can get to know it as residents. Or maybe a giant hummingbird will zoom up to me and speak to me in French, and I'll leap aboard and ride to Andromeda for some pound cake.

Pictures!



Quinn and the big boat. He was honestly concerned that
they'd never fit enough food on there for all the people
staying in all those rooms.



La protectora. Doing a hell of a job.



Quinn in the castle - I didn't focus on him, but on his having
been in a real castle, oft besieged by pirates. He'll be
bragging that up, and he'll need proof.



Our luncheonette. Approximately a billion times
better than last time.



Kiosks from afar - Come on, does there look
to be an actual business in there? It looks like
a tourism info booth, fer cryin' out loud.



Fifty cents a bag. There were five - FIVE - men
competing to sell people bird food, all within
about 100 feet of each other.



I am glad I speak a language where a confectionery
is called a "Bombonera".



There are all kinds of trees like this, that seem to drip
roots and tendrils across themselves and then re-absorb them,
making for these great Lord-of-the-Rings-ready
trunks. Several different species do it, judging by the leaves.



Tess, on the bus, suddenly pulled her dress straps down
off her shoulders. I thought she was trying to take it
off and asked her what she was doing. "Yo
soy Belle", she responded. For reference:





Private Tess and Private Quinn with our long march gear.
Everything we needed for a whole day of San Juan fun.
Though it's pretty slow going when they're weighted down like that.
And when Janneke's in the stroller.