We touched down in San Juan just after 5:30 AM. We arrived from the frigid north and were dressed in multiple layers of sweaters, coats, and scarves, which we began to shed the minute we arrived at baggage claim. It was early, but the humidity was overwhelming. The airport in San Juan is small, with not much more than a decent duty free area and a Margaritaville Cafe. Tucked in between the airline giants are numerous regional airlines offering service to the Virgin Islands, Panama, and most recently, Cuba. People in those lines are inevitably tense and unhappy. They arrived too late to make a connection; they were expecting travel/parking/customs/check-in to be faster and did not make the cutoff time for boarding. They do not speak Spanish. They wait anxiously for someone who enjoys speaking English (almost as much as they enjoy helping unprepared tourists) to save them. There was one woman in the line wearing nothing but her bathing suit and a short, white caftan. She was pale and probably in her 50s. She should not have been wearing a caftan in the airport. I noticed she definitely had luggage – probably with pants inside. It is this very luggage that had caused her all the trouble. She could get on the plane, but her luggage could not because she missed the check in window. I wondered why she did not put on some pants. I saw her three more times in the airport. Since she missed her flight she had plenty of time to buy rum and perfume at the 24-hour duty free shop. I even saw her in the United Club Lounge. She never put on any pants.

We took a taxi into the city. From the airport to Old San Juan it was about 30 minutes and $24 exactly. The drive is not picturesque; you pass endless signs for strip clubs and casinos. I wondered how many strip clubs must be on the island, and was reminded of the sheer volume of strip clubs in Guam. It occurred to me that, in island communities, where there are troops there are strip clubs; we must have been near a military installation. We did not visit these clubs, although we did see an entire strip mall dedicated to the sale of condoms. There were stores about the size of pawnshops with names like “condom nation” and “condom mania”. It seemed unlikely for there to be such a demand for condoms in this commonwealth that 6,000 square feet of real estate should be dedicated to their sale. I decided it was a money laundering enterprise.

We finally arrived at Hotel El Convento, which is directly in the heart of the old city. It served as a convent in the 1600s and underwent many transformations over the years until Frederic Woolworth, an heir to the Woolworth fortune, saved it from demolition. It was beautiful and charming and the perfect choice for our stay. A few feral cats, a 20-foot tall Christmas tree, a painting of Jesus, and a delightful man named Cesar greeted us. Cesar became my new best friend that day because he decided to allow us to check in at dawn on a Tuesday morning, nearly 8 hours early. The dread of loping around the city in an unbearably hot sweater and boots, hauling my luggage like a drifter, disappeared quickly as Cesar became my new hero.

The sun was rising and we decided a walk around the city was warranted. We walked the cobblestone streets, stepping over the dozens of feral cats casually asleep on the city sidewalks, enjoying a brief respite between their evening adventures and the inevitable tourist onslaught that occurred daily around 12 PM. We walked along the bay, inside the borders of El Morro, catching glimpses of joggers, dog walkers, and shopkeepers setting up for the day. There was almost no traffic, the ocean was still, and weather was perfect. When it began to rain we hid under the awning of an amazing pied-a-terre undergoing renovation and marveled at the juxtaposition of old world architecture and modern design, and emerged to a double rainbow that spanned the whole sky. We walked for miles, along the ocean, the government buildings, commerce centers, tourist spots, and residences.

When we finally returned to our hotel the scene was much livelier. It was after noon and the cruise ships had docked, the tourists had descended and the main restaurant, situated in an open courtyard under an enormous nispero tree, was bustling. We drank champagne and watched the scene unfold from our balcony in the Pablo Casals Suite. Situated conveniently across from the San Juan Cathedral on the third floor of the hotel, we were in a perfect position to witness the effect of tourism on the cultural center. Hundreds of tourists thronged in the streets. Dressed in golf shorts with the comfort fit waist band pulled sternum height, tube socks, fanny packs, and Panama Jack style hats, they shopped and ate, and ate and shopped, until the dressing gong of the Royal Caribbean called them back home.

In the movie adaptation of Hunter S. Thompson’s “The Rum Diary”, reporter Paul Kemp described this very phenomenon:

“These alleys are magnets to the glutton. They come off the boats like locusts, beasts of obesity. The great whites. Probably the most dangerous animal on Earth.”

In more than 50 years the “white sweating tourists in carnival hats” spectacle appears unchanged. I wondered what it was about cruise ships that inspired these uniforms of gift shop caftans and xenophobia, but there it was. Too cliché to even marvel at – we decided our routine had to consist of early mornings and happy hour, and that sleeping should take place during the hours when tube socks with Adidas slide sandals and Jansport day packs roamed free.

 

 

 

This visit was primarily a family vacation, so our list of traveler recommendations is short. In Old San Juan we enjoyed our stay at the Hotel El Convento, which is priced the same as the beachfront hotels, but infinitely more charming. El Convento offers unlimited bottled water at various stations throughout the hotel and provides a nightly happy hour of wine and cheese for its patrons. Access is through a key-controlled elevator and gated staircase so it truly remains an amenity for hotel guests only. Directly across the street is a tiny dive bar called El Batey, which makes the best mojito in all the land. They put about a pound of mint in each one, muddle the leaves for days and then blend it slightly. It is just about the only drink you will ever need. Only a few blocks away is a three-tiered restaurant called Sol y Cruz, which offers fine dining on its first floor via St. Germain Bistro and Bar, a comfortable lounge on its second floor called The Mezzanine, and a rooftop bar aptly named Al Fresco. Each level has its own charms and specialty offerings. The rooftop is small, but is one of the best rooftop bars in Old San Juan for happy hour.

We traveled south and spent a few days in Guanica, PR. Far removed from the busy touristic attractions of the old city, one is unlikely to find any “Great Whites” there. You will instead find a community of local people hanging out at roadside dive bars drinking miniature cans of Coors Light and Medalla for $2 a piece. Island time is definitely a thing on the southern part of the island, and you will not find anyone in a hurry to get anywhere. You are even less likely to find someone who uses a turn signal. What you will find, however, are charming and kind local people who form close-knit communities and take care of each other. The housing market never recovered from the 2008 recession and many communities never recovered from Hurricane George 20 years before that. Fruit trees are abundant, though, as is local kindness, so homelessness and hunger are not common afflictions. In this collectivist community, one man’s good fortune is also his neighbor’s.

There are a few noteworthy places in the southern countryside and one is the Copamarina Resort in Guanica, a beachfront hotel and resort. We did not stay in the hotel, but had several meals in their outdoor dining room and enjoyed wine on the beachfront cabanas more than once. The rooms are reasonably priced, and the water is quite calm. In the evenings, they set up an inflatable movie screen, which shows children’s movies for hours. It’s an amazing idea, as parents can enjoy an uninterrupted dinner just 20 feet away.

Although Condado beach and Carolina boast movie-worthy scenes of pristine beaches and multi-million dollar homes, there is so much more to this charming island than what the Capital has to offer. There is a rain forest, El Yunque, just northeast of San Juan, quaint beach towns with great stretches of surf in Aguada and Rincon on the west side of the island, a bioluminescent bay in La Parguera (near Guanica), and the islands of Culebra and Vieques are only a short plane or ferry ride away. It is worth it to treat this destination as more than a cruise ship stopover, and spend days exploring the local culture and immersing yourself in the natural beauty. If you do this, you may find yourself, at least once, “Bailando en el mar Boricua”.