Days 9 & 10: Home

I agreed to get bumped from my flight home Monday morning in exchange for a free round-trip ticket (sweet...next year's spring break, here I come!) and ended up staying the night in the airport hotel. I must admit that my adventurous side has finally worn out, as I opted to spend the day watching cable television, eating ice from the ice machine so conveniently located across the hall from my room, and taking naps. Hey, my sunscreen, beach towel, swimsuit, tour books, and everything else is now in Chicago while I sit here with my laptop and $30 in food vouchers.

Some observations from today:
1. "Charmed" isn't a very good show. It's kind of silly. Also, Shannon Doherty wasn't ever really acting on 90210, was she? That's just how she is in real life.
2. There are way too many versions of "Law & Order. "
3. "Dancing With The Stars" has an excessive amount of commercials, which really cuts down on the excitement.
4. Taco Maker isn't as good as I remember it being.
5. Sleeping is better when you aren't directly above a night club.

So that's it, folks. Please return next spring break (or, if you're a Mormon, please return sometime in July, when Mom and I go to church history sites in the Northeast) for more exciting adventures on Travelblog de Steve-O!

Day 8: Sigh

Today was my last day in Puerto Rico. Sigh. I met up with Yarí, who graciously came to pick me up at the hotel before driving us out to her neighborhood, where we lunched on delicious sandwiches (I had a Cubano) and some local food picked up by her father. Yarí's parents are awesome...very intelligent and hospitable (just like Yarí!). Although I am sure they are tired of talking about it, I brought up how strange the whole Puerto Rico as a territory issue seems. As I walked through Old San Juan and other areas this past week, it seems to me that Puerto Rico has such a rich, extensive history, beginning with (and probably before) the local Taino natives, to the influence of the slave trade and families from Africa, to the Spaniards, to the Dutch, to the British, and now as part of the United States. Although I know the U.S. was populated by people before the colonization from Europe, so much of the previous cultures' influence seems to have been erased that I experience my country as only having one history and heritage, even though I know this isn't true. Puerto Rico doesn't really seem like part of the U.S. (and it isn't, sort of, but it is, sort of), and I dare venture a guess that if it ever became a state, it would lose some of its unique culture and livelihood. Such a complex issue.

Next, Yarí drove me up to the Botanical Garden of the University of Puerto Rico, where I spent an hour or so. Because she is awesome, Yarí picked me up again and drove me to el Museo de Arte de Puerto Rico. Smaller than the Art Institute (my most favorite place in Chicago) but still awesome, the museum displayed some wonderful works from local artists. The museum staff invited me to stay after closing for a performance by the Orquesta Filarmónica de Puerto Rico, which was free with my admission fees. The setting was perfect for the type of music, and, although I'm not an opera fan, I must say that the soloist, Melliangee Pérez, was phenomenal. I must also say that I use commas and the word "awesome" way too often.






As I still had not eaten mofongo, Yarí recommended Raíces in Old San Juan. Mofongo is a creation of smashed plantains, spices, and meat. It was...you guessed it...awesome, and now I must search for a good Puerto Rican restaurant in Chicago that serves this delicious dish.

Day 7: Good Looking

Today started with a stroll down the blue-bricked streets of Old San Juan for a quick breakfast at Café Mallorca, where I had a couple of eggs, toast, fresh-squeezed orange juice, and, of course, a couple mallorcas. A mallorca is a local pastry that is buttered, grilled, and sprinkled with powdered sugar. Delicious.

Because my Harry Potter beach towel has officially gone lost/apparated elsewhere, I picked up a new one at the local drugstore. It looks like a giant Puerto Rican flag. In retrospect, I'm not sure if it's very respectful to wipe yourself down with something that looks like the flag. But they sold it, so whatever. I went down near the pier to wait for my ride to the rainforest. While waiting, I received about three phone calls from the tour guide company (see, I knew I needed to get another phone) making sure I knew about the pick-up time and location. At approximately 12:00pm, a black van rolled up and an older, stout man appeared, shouting, "Hey, Good Looking!"

Mike, also known as "Good Looking," spent the next 45 minutes picking up the remainder of the tour group at various local hotels, all the while telling me about how he is the driver/bodyguard for Mariah Carey, the former Mrs. Michael Jordan, and Donald Trump when they are on the island. All the way to the rainforest, he talked about various local issues (public/private education, shopping, government, etc.) and pointed out the different types of trees and bushes. Sometimes he stayed in his lane on the highway while he spoke and pointed everywhere.

At El Yunque, the island's rainforest, we watched a short film in the visitor's center (boring, but now I know what happened to Jimmy Smits) and went on a one-hour hike through the forest, culminating in a cool dip at La Mina Falls. Yes, I went in. Yes, all the way in. It was freaking awesome.

We lunched at a roadside café, where I had a couple of surullitos (fried cheese and cornmeal sticks), a shrimp taco (which is different from what you're thinking...tacos are different here), and arroz y habichuelas. Because we had some extra time, Good Looking drove us to El Conquistador, a luxury resort in Fajardo where, you guessed it, he sometimes works as a driver and bodyguard for the rich and famous. His story apparently holds up, as everyone started shouting, "Hey, Good Looking!" when we arrived. As we were walking through the resort I kept thinking, "I will never be able to afford a place like this." I mean, they have their own private island, for goodness sake. Still, it was interesting to see how the other half lives, and now I realize that I need to do some serious background work for that series of young adult fiction novels I'm writing, as the central family is quite wealthy.

As dusk approached, we met up with the 500+ other people who planned to kayak tonight and received a brief lesson on kayaking basics. Everyone else had a partner but me...how telling. After everyone else boarded their kayaks, the staff placed me in a single and I paddled after the group. Unfortunately, there was a father behind, then in front, then behind and so on, of me who had to paddle around himself and his daughter. I say unfortunately because the task seemed very difficult, as evidenced by his repeated crashing into me and into the mangroves lining the canal into the bay.

Now, I must say that I was skeptical about this whole biolumenscence business, but it was totally for real and totally awesome. As we approached the enclosed lagoon, every stroke of the kayak paddle glowed blue as the water moved beneath me. I stuck my hand in, lifted up my arm, and little flashes of light trickled down to my elbow. It was truly, truly magical. It's like billions of microscopic fireflies in the water. Once we'd all arrived, the tour guide asked us to come together for a brief but interesting ecological lesson before we were released to explore on our own. Due to the fragile ecosystem of the area, we weren't allowed to leave our kayaks and go for a swim. Also due to the fragile ecosystem of the area, we were only allowed to stay in the lagoon for about 5 minutes. That was super lame. Fortunately, my kayaking skills are somewhat lacking, so I had about four inches of water in the bottom of my kayak, allowing me to glow, glow, glow all the way back to the shore.

Day 6: Closed

I fear that my travel blog is becoming less exciting for the readers as the days progress. Tomorrow holds the promise of a trip to the rainforest and kayaking in a bioluminescent bay, so there’s something to look forward to, eh?

Today I had great plans for visiting the rest of the sights in Old San Juan. After consulting my trusty Moon Handbook to get the hours and locations right, here’s what happened:

1. El Museo de Las Americas was mostly under renovation. The two small exhibits I found were both smaller than my apartment. Oh, and the reportedly awesome gift shop was closed.

2. El Museo de San Juan was closed. The guard outside just shrugged her shoulders when I asked her why, and when it would be open again.

3. El Museo de Nuestra Raíz Africana was closed. The guard standing inside gave me a dirty look for even approaching the door to see if/when it would be open.

4. La Casa del Libro, purported to house an impressive collection of ancient texts, was under renovation. Its temporary home (back over to El Museo de Las Americas again) had a less than impressive display of approximately 10 pages removed from ancient books. You know how I love books, and you can probably guess what I was expecting from this place. Needless to say, my expectations were not met.

5. Casa Blanca, a 500-year old mansion where Ponce de León’s posterity lived for almost 200 years, was rather difficult to find. But guess what? It was open. But guess what else? The other people in the tour only spoke Spanish. So, when I nodded to the guide that yes, I spoke Spanish, she was super excited. However, I have noticed during my time in Puerto Rico that there is a slight difference in accent (which makes perfect sense) between Borinquens and Mexicanos. This slight difference made it just difficult enough for me to understand the guide that when she said, “Ooh, now I have a test, and it’s just for you,” I got a little flustered. Sigh. And I couldn’t take pictures inside. Still, it was the best part of my day, walking alone through the house. There’s something to be said for surrounding yourself with historical artifacts that are NOT in glass cases. It’s as if you can feel the weight of time and tradition pressing upon you in an attempt to put it all into an eternal perspective.




As I missed breakfast, I decided to stop for a bite to eat at El Burén. I had lobster empanadillas, a spinach salad with fresh papaya, mango, and buffalo mozarella topped with guava dressing, and some guava crème brûlée for dessert. Amazing!

My first day in Old San Juan, I passed by a shop that sold vejigante masks and santos, both of which are excellent examples of Puerto Rican folk art. I returned to El Galpón today, and after some deliberation and consultation with the owner (and his dog), I picked up my very own vejigante mask and antique santo. Well, it wasn’t a santo per se, it was The Good Shepherd. But it looked like the other santos.

After stopping at a café on Calle del Cristo for a virgin piña colada, I headed back to the hotel to catch up on my travel blog and program everyone’s phone numbers into my new phone. I need to head to bed early tonight so I can be refreshed for tomorrow’s adventure: El Yunque rainforest and kayaking in a bioluminescent bay. Hooray! Hooray!

Day 5: Yuck

So my cell phone is toast. Unfortunately, I have progressed to the point of being completely dependent upon my cell in order to communicate with the outside world. I need to be able to talk with my family and friends. I need to be able to talk to Amber in case something happens with the cats. I need to be able to get in touch with Yari in case I get lost out in San Juan. I need to call Sara to remind her to cover for me on the first day of class as I'll be flying home that morning. I need to be able to receive a call from the kayaking company who is scheduled to take me out this Saturday. Sadly, as much as I don't want to admit it, I need a working cell phone, and I need it now.

Consequently, today was spent figuring out the island's bus and train system. I ended up taking a bus to the Plaza Las Americas, the largest mall in the Caribbean. When I was looking through the tour guides a few months ago, where was the one place that looked the least enticing? Plaza Las Americas. I mean, who spends a day at the mall on their very first tropical vacation? Unfortunately, it was the closest stop to the Sprint dealership.

It was in and out at the Sprint store, where the kid who helped me spent most of his time texting instead of looking at and/or talking to me. I am now the proud owner of a MotoRazr V3M Red. I don’t like it as much as my old phone, but at least $10 of my purchase goes toward a good cause.

Now, hungry, I searched for food. The only places near the Sprint store were McDonalds and Taco Maker. No thanks. So…where else was there to go, but the mall? The mall. I went to the mall while I was on vacation. Ugh. Still, I was able to get a fairly decent bit of pasta at ¿Qué Pasta! It was a build-your-own pasta type of place with really fresh ingredients. I picked tortellini, red bell peppers, fresh mushrooms, and shrimp in a pesto sauce. The guy sautéed it all for me with a bit of minced garlic and olive oil. Hey, things were looking up!

I figured that as long as I was at the mall (sigh) I might as well try to pick up the third volume of the Leven Thumps series as I had finished the second volume my first night in Culebra. There was a gigantic Borders near the south entrance, and I spent over half an hour trying to find the book I needed. This is not because I don’t know how to work my way around a bookstore…au contraire, I worked for B. Dalton all through high school. It was because their young adult fiction section was a wreck. A wreck. In all my years of working in bookstores, I have never seen anything this chaotic. No alphabetization, one copy of the book in this bay, one copy in another, one copy over in who knows where. It pulled me back to my bookstore days and I was incredibly tempted to begin straightening and alphabetizing like nobody’s business. I decided it was best that I get out as soon as possible.

The details of my return home need not be belabored. Let’s just say that I got on the correct bus, but it went somewhere else, and I ended up at the very end of the line for the San Juan train system. So I took the train from the end of the system to the beginning, then took another bus. Total time from leaving Plaza Las Americas to my arrival back at Da House Hotel? Three hours, which was about two hours longer than it took to get there.

I wanted sushi for dinner, and I wanted it bad. I could only find one sushi restaurant in Old San Juan: Dragonfly. Service was prompt, and both the Coco Lime Tuna Ceviche (seriously tender, fresh pieces of raw tuna with coconut milk, lime juice, cucumber, and palmito) and the Dragon Pegao Roll (king crab, bacon, cream cheese, scallions, and chipotle mayo) were amazing. Not too healthy, but amazing. Hey, I ate at the freaking mall food court for lunch, cut me some slack. G’night.

Day 4: Return from Culebra

I awoke this morning to the crow of a rooster. Many roosters, actually. They run rampant and wild on this island.






Unfortunately, I only planned to spend two days on Culebra, which is a shame because now I finally understand why people always talk about “going to the beach” with a smile on their faces. My previous beach experiences have been good, but it was largely due to the company I was keeping during such trips. Never before have I been pulled toward the beach solely because it was a living, breathing thing that deserved my attention.

In all the excitement and awesomeness of yesterday’s beach trip, I seem to have misplaced my Harry Potter beach towel. Oh well. As John Locke from LOST would say, “It was a sacrifice the island demanded.” Michael would start screaming “BEACH TOWEL!” and start killing people in order to get it back. Kate would go looking for it, then turn around, then go back to looking for it, torn about what she should do. Jack would organize a search party and make a promise that we would find it together. Juliet would make it a grilled cheese sandwich, and Sayid would use his superb interrogating skills and intellect to find out who has it now. Sawyer would miss it terribly but would deny any sort of emotional response. Ben would use cunning and deceit and tell me that he found it, but only so he can use me like he uses everyone else. As for me, I’m just going to pull a Hurley and head back to the beach, but not before I buy a snorkel and mask.

When I called Culebra Divers earlier in the week to see if they had any snorkeling trips planned offshore they said, “it depends on the weather.” Well, apparently windy conditions don’t bode well for the aspiring snorkeler. No matter…I ran into a couple yesterday who were snorkeling experts and they told me that I could easily swim the reefs within Playas Flamenco y Carlos Rosario. With my fluorescent green (a tribute to all the things I owned and wore that were the same color during the 80s…man, I loved fluorescent green) mask and snorkel in hand, I began my pursuit just offshore. I saw the coolest fish…different colors, shapes, sizes…snorkeling is AWESOME! I can only imagine what it must be like further away from the island. Guess I’ll have to go again sometime…bummer. In total, I went out four times during the day. The final time, I took my cell phone with me; it is currently sitting in a bag of rice because someone told me that’s what I should do to dry it out. Dry out, little phone! You’re so user friendly, and you have all my contacts in you!





The painted tank below is a reminder of the U.S. Navy’s former presence in Culebra. It sits on the edge of Playa Flamenco. Do you know what sits at the bottom of Playa Carlos Rosario? Bombs. Yes, bombs. The sign at the beach said, albeit much more diplomatically than I shall write it, “Hey, enjoy your snorkeling, but don’t step on the ocean floor because there are bombs and you might kill yourself and others.” Yeah, that’s what it said. Awesome. As you can see, Playa Carlos Rosario is much less idyllic than Playa Flamenco…but it did have some killer coral sitting on the beach.

Playa Carlos Rosario

After all my snorkeling and bomb-avoiding were through, I grabbed a fresh, ice cold coconut from a vendor and opened my copy of Paolo Coelho’s The Alchemist. For those of you who have not read this timeless tale of a young shepherd boy following his dreams, please do so immediately. As I read from its pages, I kept thinking, “Oh, I should type this part into my blog! Oh, and this part, too!” Do yourself a favor and stop whatever you’re doing (including reading this blog) and pick up a copy immediately. Immediately! I love this book!



Sadly, as dusk began to appear, my time at Playa Flamenco and Culebra had come to an end. These two days were the very best two days of any vacation I have ever taken, even with the food and taxi mix-ups. And yes, even with the intense sunburn that has somehow managed to spread itself across my entire body…including the places that were covered up. Don’t worry, Mom, I put on lots of sunscreen throughout the day! These things just happen! And Culebra, don’t worry…I’ll be back. You still have my beach towel. And hey…where are my sunglasses? You have those, too.

Day 3: To Culebra!

After a refreshing night's sleep, I headed over to Culebra, a little island off the coast of the main island. I ended up flying instead of taking ground and water transportation as it was both cheaper and faster to fly. Go M&N Aviation! When I asked the pilot if I could take pictures without it interfering with his equipment, he asked me if I wanted to sit in the co-pilot seat. Umm...heck yeah I do! Sweet! Here are some shots from the air as we flew over the main island, as well as Vieques (another island off the coast) and Culebra.

Upon arrival, I took a taxi to my one-night accommodations at Villa Boheme. I'll just post pictures of the outside because it's the nicest view of the place. My room was clean and, well, clean. I had a late breakfast down the street at Dinghy Dock, where I ordered the rum-coco french toast with fresh homemade guava syrup and a glass of passionfruit juice. Oh, and bacon, because duh, who doesn't order bacon with breakfast? Mmm...bacon. Everything was delicious, and the french toast didn't smell alchohol-y at all, so hopefully I'm okay.

After waiting almost an hour for a cab (unbelievable!) I finally made it to a little place I like to call heaven. Words can't describe it, and pictures can't do it justice. It is known as one of the best beaches in the world, and is called Playa Flamenco. It's what you always thought a beach would be...soft, warm (but not too warm) sand and salty (but not too salty) water that gradually progresses from clear to light aqua green to rich aqua green to light aqua blue to dark aqua blue. And it is where I spent the rest of the day.

After a quick nap, I headed over to Mamacita's for dinner. Not only did I lack the foresight to bring food with me to the beach (and thus missed lunch), I lacked the foresight to show up as soon as the restaurant opened. My one hour tardiness placed me at the end of a waiting list that kept me there for over 90 minutes before I got a table. By this point, I was so incredibly hungry that Grumpy Steven had appeared. I get really irritable when I'm extra hungry, and this irritability didn't subside as I watched them erase each item I had selected from the menu due to limited supply. At last, I was seated and immediately ordered the coconut shrimp and jerk chicken pinchos, both of which were amazing. Amazing. And as I walked back to the hotel, I felt like I was really, truly happy for the first time in a long time.