I know. Life is hard, sometimes. We did our morning chores (I feel bad for Bill, next time he tries to unload and set up that tent...we're girls, what can I say) and walked over to visit Mari, who served us up a mess of eggs and toast and cafe con leche and coconut bread and the most mouthwateringly delicious guava and cheese empanadilla (turnover).
Time to rendezvous, so we walked along this:
until we arrived here:
Welcome to Gilligan's Island! Let's just say that one of my first contacts upon returning to the mainland was the guy that is building my house, letting him know that my houseplan needed to be modified to include a deep front porch, big enough for a hammock and a couple of fans and chairs. And probably something along the lines of those shells.
Today was our chill day; we took plenty of time to discuss what we wanted to do. Hey, that hammock needed some utilization, what can I say? We finally bestirred ourselves to call Aramis, who picked us up in his trusty Pathfinder and deposited Bill and all of our gear at the local coffee shop and Anna and me at Carlos' Jeep Rentals, where we picked up a golf cart and took off to explore the island.
Side note, in my opinion, Culebra would be an awesome place for a family vacation. The villas (as demonstrated above) are adorable, the beaches are fantastic and offer plenty of opportunities for whatever floats the boat, whether relaxing or activities, and yet, the vibe is laid back and the island is very small, and thus pretty safe and manageable. Load up the kids in a golf cart or two, go swimming at Zoni or snorkeling at Tamarindo, have lunch at the kioskos, go shopping and have dinner in Dewey, and round out the day listening to the coquis on your front porch... Not bad, I'd say. Makes me want to hit my folks and siblings up for a long weekend this winter...
Anyway, I was driving the golf cart, so my co-pilot and navigator grabbed a couple "side-of-the-road" pictures:
Poor golf cart. We conveniently ignored the little paragraph that said golf carts weren't recommended at Zoni Beach and headed for...Zoni Beach. (I love how mellow Puerto Rican waivers are. No teeth whatsoever. I also love how chill the attendants were about watching this first-time golf-cart driver go lurching out of their parking lot and down the road.)
Once a personal trainer, always a personal trainer...
After a nice, refreshing swim (I tried, but I couldn't keep up with her), we headed back to town, hauling a couple of beachgoers back with us. It was getting to be time to start thinking about the ferry again (remember the saga from yesterday?), but now, we were hungry and hot, it was 3 o'clock in the afternoon, meaning most restaurants were closed, we had a golf cart to return, and mountains of stuff to haul to the ferry terminal and keep track of. No worries! A vacationing family overheard our dilemma and jumped in to add their two cents... The matron of the family proposed a solution: hija would stand guard over our luggage while mama drove Bill and Kim in the family mini-van to the closest restaurant, after which she would pick Anna and me up at the jeep rental place, drop us off at the restaurant, run hermana to Flamenco Beach, come back to the restaurant, pick us plus our food up and deposit us back at the terminal, all while keeping up a running stream of commentary full of such choice tidbits as how to cure everything from diabetes to earache with nothing but houseplants and various teas. Out of curiosity, when was the last time you ran errands for random strangers you met on the side of the road, and when was the last time random strangers ran errands for you? (I find myself gently convicted - maybe I could stand to give just a little bit more of myself to the people I meet?)
So yes, that's what we did, ran hither and thither and devoured chuletas (fried pork chops) and rice and beans and grouper bites and Fanta grape soda along the way, and then came back and repeated the whole ferry process, which was much easier this time. Oh, and we got some incredibly refreshing coconut ice cream from the elderly gentleman ringing his bell and hawking his wares up and down the line.
I was hot and tired and didn't entirely trust my stomach to behave during the rocky ferry ride back to Fajardo, so I dozed, all the while listening to what sounded like some sort of festive family reunion going on around me (cackling grandmas; music and singing, fits of good-natured shouting and uproarious laughter), the combination of which (dozing and eavesdropping) wrapped me in a cocoon of warmth.
We disembarked as twilight descended, negotiated the loading of our gear, the paying of our two-day parking bill ($11.25) to our friend from the Bronx, and headed back towards San Juan, fueled by a coffee and water stop at Church's Fried Chicken. (Here is where Anna and I discovered our real kinship - to all outward appearances, we are bound by a shared love of adventure and fun, when the reality is, it is our shared desire for order, direction and cleanliness, also known as mild OCD, that makes us ideal traveling buddies.)
Our home base for the next two days was a very comfortable condo on the fifth floor of the Ashford Imperial, located in the heart of Candado, just around the corner from Bill and Kim's adorable ground-floor apartment. (I am wretchedly sorry - I get to enjoying myself and I forget to take pictures.)
Another side note, I found this condo on AirBnB - my first time using the site. Such an awesome concept - free-market capitalism at its finest, and it worked beautifully for me - AirBnB will definitely be part of my future travel plans.
Anyway, an hour and a heavenly shower later, we reconvened and headed off towards Old San Juan and dinner at Carli's. For starters, Bill drove, which, aside from being a lovely respite from the stress of negotiating heavy traffic in an unknown land, afforded ample opportunity to enjoy the passing scenery, which in this case was the wonders of the streets of downtown San Juan. He deposited us a few blocks from our destination, so we got to walk for a bit, what would end up being my only exposure to Old San Juan. The architecture was fascinating - such history held inside those walls! Besides, it was 10:00 on a Saturday night and the people were out in force (some more sober than others). The noise ceased and the mood changed as soon as we entered the temple of jazz that is Carli's, though.
Picture soft lighting, muted colors, delicious smells, an elderly Dominican waiter oozing old-school charm, and a full-on jazz trio playing terrific live music. That would be the jewel box that is Carli's. We sank back in our chairs and savored the whole experience, a parade of entrees and desserts and double-shots of espresso with lime and brown sugar (that were really a coffee event more than anything) and then lipsmackingly delicious little glasses of papaya and coconut and guava, whipped up specially for us by our waiter (Faustio?), who, of course, goes way back with Bill and Kim, all accompanied by the music made by the guy who used to play with the Beach Boys (you never would guess it looking at or listening to him).
Risotto with Pumpkin and Shrimp
And then, it was back to the condo, where I positively staggered to bed and promptly collapsed.
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