Puerto Rico

I was a bit ashamed to tell people that I was going to Puerto Rico.

I went to the Bahamas once. I desperately needed to get away from it all, so I booked a 3-day, last-minute trip to the Bahamas. A day and a half "away from it all," and I couldn't wait to return.

I hate the idea of a resort. When I go somewhere new, I want to see what it's really like to be there. I want to know it people, taste its food, speak its language, learn its dance.

To sit on a beach chair in a cookie-cutter resort that looks the same as any other resort in any other country, drinking a margarita, cuba libre, mai tai or any other of the wanna-be "traditional" umbrella drinks ubiquitous to these places... it's just not my style.

I am a snob. I realize this.

Justin and I arrive in Old San Juan at sunset. Perfect timing. My bag is the first to roll off the conveyer belt at the airport and we take a very reasonable $20 cab ride to Da House Hotel, the Hotel just above and to the right of OSJ's Nuyorican cafe. It's lovely, albeit loud at night, and very reasonably priced. OSJ has some of the most bright, gorgeous, clean, and best preserved Spanish colonial architecture I have ever seen. It's full of tourists, but most of them are from cruise ships and only during the day. It's full of Puerto Ricans as well.

We ask the girl at the reception desk for a restaurant that was still open, as during the week all seems to close pretty early. She directs us to Cafe Puerto Rico, which quickly became our favorite place in town. Reasonably priced and reliably good, we both had our first mofongo overdose.

Mofongo is the result of fried green plantains being mashed and fried again with chicharrones (pork skin.) It's molded into one shape or another, often in a pilon (a large wooden pestle) , topped with some form of stewed protein. I had the bacalao, Justin had the chicken. Light it is not. But it was delicious.

I couldn't handle the tres leches cake I so desperately wanted to eat at the end of the meal, but there was room for coffee. I order a cortado, an espresso with a dollop of milk, and Justin orders a "regular coffee." He's temporarily bothered that instead of a coffee cup, the waiter brings him a tiny espresso cup. I say, knowingly, "just drink it."

Justin is so overwhelmed by the amazingly rich and deep flavor of this coffee that he can't help bursting forth with accolades to the bartender. "This is the best cup of coffee I have ever had!!" It was genuine and hilarious.

We went back twice, and by the third visit, we just walked in and the waiter said "black coffee??" Five days in Puerto Rico and we were already regulars.

After two days making friends in Old San Juan (actually, despite my grasp of the Spanish language, it was Justin who made all the friends... every time I left him alone for three minutes there was someone else he befriended... big blue eyes + mad guitar skillz + gift of gab = loads of attention) we moved to Condado, a more beachy community. It wasn't too much to speak of... wealthier, resortier, but I had points that got us a free hotel room for three days, so it was a great option.

We got a rental car and drove about an hour out to Luquillo beach. It's known for its kioscos, a line of food stalls outside a beach. I wanted ceviche, and Justin wanted some fried meat things (Puerto Rico has a wide array of fried meat things). The guy at one of the food stalls told us that there was very quiet and free beach access right behind the kioscos, and that if we needed a bathroom we could use theirs. I'm really glad we took his advice. There was practically no one on the beach. And of course, we bought food and drinks from him, so it was a very symbiotic relationship. I'd never been on a beach that was so empty before. At 80 degrees, it was too cold and windy for the Puerto Ricans to go to the beach, we were told.

We didn't have a lot of luck as far as nightlife... we got lost going to one place, were dissatisfied with the live salsa at another, got the date confused for a third. I remembered that my friend Timeka told us to go to the club at El San Juan hotel, so we wound up there.

It was fantastic. The El San Juan Hotel was what you want Las Vegas to be. It's beautiful, glamorous, and everyone is dressed to the nines. The first blackjack table we walked past had a $100 minimum bet. Needless to say, we didn't.

Club Brava was two floors full of tourists, both Puerto Rican and otherwise, but the $20 cover ensured a level of class, surprising considering the preponderance of stripper poles waiting for drunk girls to mount. (I didn't, surprisingly.) We danced to reggaeton and hip hop for as long as my thighs could tolerate. It was a great club.

We didn't wind up doing most of the things recommended to us. We managed to walk past the castillo, and that was the only "sight" we saw. We're not so into nature, so we skipped El Yunque, Puerto Rico's rainforest. Nor did we swim in the bioluminescent bay.

But, we did meet some really nice people, take in some sun, listen to some music (mostly Justin's) and eat till I wanted to pass out. Puerto Rico is really nice, and isn't just some resort. It doesn't scream "Caribbean" to me. It just screams "Puerto Rico!" trilling its r's all the way. No resort for me, thankfully, and I enjoyed a vacation I could be proud to tell people about.

Although I did have one drink with an umbrella in it. Shhh... don't tell anyone.