From Icy Sidwalks to Icy Drinks: Puerto Rico, Day 1

Before living in Boston, I didn't understand why New Englanders felt compelled to go to the Carribbean in the late winter/early spring. Vacation, sure, but why always the beach? I spent many a forced, I mean, happy, spring break in Oklahoma City growing up and was no worse for the wear. After a few years living in Boston, however, I realized the draw. A midwestern winter can be brutal, but it is also relatively brief. Spring really does arrive by mid April and you can safely pack away the winter coats and sweaters. In New England, June 1 is still risky and the radiators still clang and thump. So, for the past several years, I've tried to head to warmer climes if possible, even if only for a few days. G and I decided on Puerto Rico this year and the gods must have been smiling on us since we were some of the only ones to make our scheduled flight after a huge storm left major parts of the country inundated under snow and ice. In fact, our brief trip went so smoothly and we packed so much in to our 2 full days (and 2 partial days) that a timeline is below:

A few days before takeoff:
Andrea to G on phone: "Our flight is at 6 am, so we should call a cab and leave the house by 4 am."
G to Andrea: "-----------"
Andrea to G: "Just be ready."

Friday night:
Whirlwind packing, trying on summer clothes and finding sunscreen. Procrastination method employed to further delay packing: clearing off bedside table and identifying back issues of the New Yorker that must not be thrown out because I will definitely get to that May 13, 2006 issue soon, I'm sure.


Saturday morning, 3:30 am: alarm goes off, cats tumble out of bed confused.
3:55 am: cab driver calls from downstairs
4:00-4:25 am: drive to airport with chatty G who has no shortage of conversation-- replete with questions-- at such an early hour.
6:00am-2:00pm: no recollection as I passed out on the plane.
2:30 pm: rent car and head from San Juan to Fajardo
3:00 pm:feeling famished, pull over to a stand selling pork (the pig's head is prominently displayed). Tell the vendor, "we need lunch!" and he chops up 1 lb of pork for the 2 of us. We take that and 2 Cokes and devour.

4:00 pm: arrive at the hotel where G asks a series of questions all pertaining to the beach and snorkeling. We're told that it's really too late to go to the beach and that we should enjoy the pool instead, then hit the beach the next day. G rephrases the questions several times, trying to elicit the answer he wants (which would be something like, "the beach is a 5 minute walk down the hill, you can rent snorkel equipment and of course there are reefs and fish just off shore."). Nevertheless, we do hit the pool then decide to try out one of the hotel's two restaurants.
8:00 pm: The Mexican restaurant had been deemed so good as to attract locals by the guidebook. Sure enough, there were locals...they were the servers and bartenders. The salsa tasted kind of like ketchup, but the drinks had alcohol in them, and the food was filling. We were tired and vowed to do better on a full night's rest.

next...hitting the beach and fried food