Puerto Rico

The flight over to Miami took me over Cuba, the Florida Keys and the Everglades. All of them looked quite cool and reinforced my belief that I would have to properly visit the home of Horatio Caine (coolest ginger man in the world, narrowly shading the Ginger Wizard). Miami airport was kind of weird. It was strange being back in an English speaking place. My natwest card was no longer working either, because the Yankee banks had decided I was an imposter. I also got bollocked for putting Puerto Rico as transit on the visa. How was I to know? Its not a state, but its not an independent country. The Yankees can call it whatever they like, but as an Englishman we recognise a colony when we see one. It was a short stopover to grab food and Rolling Stone magazines special on Barrack Obama. Was a cool read. I hopped back on a plane and it was off to Puerto Rico, where I would now have to rely on my credit card for the first time on this trip.

I arrived in the tropical caribbean to be greeted by drizzly rain (man that shit follows me everywhere. Must have an English seeking tracker). The bus also did not stop for me so I walked off across the airport and round some estates until I grabbed a bus to the old town. Only it tookk me to a pretty convention centre instead and I opted to walk from there. My hotel, which my dad's girlfriend had kindly booked for me appeared closed. In fact it looked like a derelict shithole of a building. I rang the doorbell. No answer. Bugger. Shit. I had to find somwhere else (I learnt later from some Swedish guys that Lonely Planet had fucked up the address. I should sue their BBC arses for the $200 additional costs they generated for me. I checked into Da House around the corner and this place was really nice. I had a real bed, a real Yankee style shower, artwork in the room, a nice layout and a hottub on the roof of the building. The only problem was a door that was so stiff I had to break into my room everytime I wanted to enter or exit. This was expensive, but Puerto Rico is a really expensive island. I wrote it off in my head as this being a 5 day holiday in the middle of 18 months of travelling.

I contacted the couchsurfer Kathy and headed off to a random neighbourhood in the middle of the night for some christmas food. I had to grab a bus to the local train station. A local guy helped me out with directions and we chatted for a while, although he could not comprehend how I spoke English when I wasn´t an American (this is the fourth English speaker I have met who does not realise the English speak English. You´d figure it was self explanatory. Anyway I lept onto the efficient overhead train that seemed modelled on LAX and its transport system. Only this one was much more efficient. Some old guy accosted me and helped me to find a telephone at the other end. This really was a friendly place. Like being back in the south. I rang Kathy and she turned up with her sister to pick me up. Kathy was hot and her sister Vanessa was even hotter. I would come to form a distinct opinion on Puerto Rican women after meeting their good looking cousins and seeing the reams of stunning women around San Juan in the days to come. Its no surprise they have won the second highest number of miss worlds, I just want to know which country beats them. San Juan is by far the fittest place I have ever visited and if you are a woman in San Juan and stunning, you would be merely average. This place is to women, what Venice is to picturesque cities. The two of them drove me to their place where I met a couple of couchsurfing guys from Texas, a fair few family members and some interesting guys from the US coast guard. The coast guarders told me some interesting stories of their drunken antics, women chasing and drug busting all while plying myself and them with 151 proof rum. We danced a bit and drank and chatted away until around 4am before one of the cousins gave me a lift home. We planned to meet up again, but for one reason or another it did not happen. Both of the sisters were stunning and good conversationalists. I would begin to love San Juan, while seemingly noone else I met did. Odd that. I think it would make my top five US cities, possibly slotting in just behind Denver.

In the morning it was Feliz Navidad and my second christmas away from home. The first one had been in Istanbul and had been an interesting experience. Due to rain I would end up eating Wendys for dinner, which is no real substitute for my dad's cooking (roast duck, roast potatoes in duck fat, pork and apple stuffing, yourkshire puddings and broccoli in cheese). Damn just typing that makes me hungry and my food today is going to come from the cheap gypo pizza place I have found in Santo Domingo. I had woken up late and headed down to El Batey (where Benicio Del Toro drank filming Rum Diary and apparently a Hunter S Thompson esque drinking establishment). It rocked. Graffiti on the walls, kick arse rock jukebox, two pool tables tucked away with those half queues you need when the walls are too close. My kind of place and just like the funky jive bars in the south. You can even whip up a conversation as I did with the barmaid and a couple from New York (One was a PTI, the other was a woodwork teacher. Both were cooler than that sounds). We yapped about all sorts and I now had one Puerto Rican for statehood and one for independence. You can see the divide cleaving the people like a knife. We drank in there for 3 hours before I decided to wander around the town. Its jaw droppingly pretty. Colonial forts, crumbling walls, tucked away alleys, swaying/drifting trees and a real sense of personality as you walked the ancient city. The people are really friendly and I walked down and around the city walls to the waterfront where there was a red gate framed by the sea and a beautiful weeping tree like those in Savannah. There is also a mesmerising graveyard tucked away over the city walls. It feels like a pretty little secret tucked away from the city, at one time part of it, at another its own uniwue attraction. Just walking around this city is a great experience. I went up to the hottub for sunset and its a beautiful feeling watching the sun set over this colonial city from a hottub on the roof. Afterwards I headed back to the bar and actually met a girl form Natural Bridge, Virginia. She had not told me her town as she did not think I would know it and was positively shocked when I had been there and seen most of the sites. I ended up chatting with a few people and got playing pool with a Yankee from Boston. We drank a lot, chatted a lot and played a lot of pool. He was a music promoter and wa son holiday with a girl he knew. She was off with some local but we joined them later and it was a little awkward at times. They went off to Vieques the next day and I elected to stay behind though I wanted to see Yunques (I would end up seeing nothing else of the island, but I loved Puerto Rico so much I will definitely be back. I just felt it and knew it. I will come back with the guys for a two week holiday I think. They would love this place, apart from the cost).

In the morning I got up again and wandered down to the lobby to book in for an extra night as did not fancy another night in the airport when I flew in the afternoon. I noticed that someone was checking their couchsurfing and that their friend was good looking as well so introduced myself. Their names were Carol and Marie-France and Carol was travelling with her mother as well. They'd just booked themselves on a 7 day cruise because they were bored with San Juan (apparently its like an identical, hotter Quebec City). We got chatting on numerous things and the four of us headed down to Isle Verde for the beach. We concluded we should get a car for the next day and drive out to Yunque and see parts of the island. Being christmas however all the cars were sold out which was a little sucky. In the evening we went out for a meal in a local restaurant, where Marie-France got an odd tasting soup. Even our waiter was ultra friendly. The island was full of cool people. We then grabbed some drinks before deciding the hot tub was a good place to go to drink rum. Myself and Marie-France bought a 750ml bottle of rum and some coke and headed to the rooftop. We ended up having a great time talking politics, philosophy and life in general till about 5.30am, although we had not quite realised the time. I was forced to defend both my character and my beliefs for them to be accepted as more than mere platitudes and I always love it when i´m challenged on something. Very refreshing. There were some strong winds on the roof and occasional torrential downpours that drowned us while we chatted. There was even a strange man who wandered up, joined us for about 2 minutes and then left again around 4am. I really enjoyed my time on the roof. Sparring and probing, with a cut and thrust of philosophy always piques my interest. The 3/4s of a litre of rum probably helped as well, even if the rainwater did water them down lol.

In the morning it was confirmed we had no car and so we decided to head out on a tour of the Bacardi Rum Factory. It was ok, not as good as the Jack Daniels tour. I had now done a lot of factory tours. The highlight was the barmen who listed famous Bacardi cocktails. He looked and had the gravitas of Laurence Fishbourne. Yet he had the tone and speech of Samuel L Jackson. Tarantino should cast him now. He´s awesome. We ate afterwards in a cool little rasta run cafe where I had conch meat for the first time and everyone didn´t seem to comprehend why they had the option of a burger without a bun on the menu. The guy who ran the place was super cool and afterwards we took the ferry back to the hotel. I found out that a super geeky Swedish guy (world number 2 in computer programming, visited 90 countries, yet a champion biathlete) was heading to Haiti and I may be able to tag along. He was even couchsurfing there. Sadly that would fall through (for logistics and a much shittier situation for me). My carpet burns from earlier on the trip seemed to have got wounded again. I can only assume it was from the lights on the hottub. Marie-France had mentioned at dinner that my eyes were a funny shade. What with my brown ring and the green ring around it. Weird as she had the same eye style. Never met anyone else with that. We have our common freaky chameleon eyes. The company was good and it was a shame that if we´d met around 3 hours earlier I would probably have gone on the cruise or they may have come to the Dominican Republic. Its funny how fate twists though. Marie-France was due to go to Egypt originally and I was not even going to the Caribbean. Both ended up switching plans to end up in Puerto Rico and only because of a Lonely Planet misprint did we end up in the same hotel. Then due to my flight change and heavy drinking I was at the desk to see that Carol was a couchsurfer and that was the conversation starter. Funny, I wish I could dig up that Hunter S Thompson passage from Rum Diary about fate, because I think he is wrong. We all separated (damn can never spell that word. An e or an a? Shite) and so I headed to the roof and met Marie-France reading there. I hopped into the freezing cold bubbly hot tub. I don´t think they can do hot and bubbles, but its cool anyway. We chatted for a long time again and suggested a South American trip. Would have been easier to sort it out in Quebec, but thats not happening now due to my passport problems. Anyway, we headed out for dinner, but did not end up eating. We just walked an chatted around the town at night. San Juan is even prettier in the night if possible. I showed her most of the best spots I had found on christmas day. Those poetic places that speak to your soul in a way that words don´t manage (and no Helen I am not conceding that argument with that line lol). We walked past the castles, graveyard and the gate with the tree. All very hauntingly beautiful, even if I did kneel on a plant that gave me a rash that only cleared up in the last week or so. I enjoyed the company a lot and am disappointed in my own carelessness with my passport. Marie-France was tired so we headed back. I was quite enamoured, but did nothing as she had clearly stated on the hottub night that she was not interested in anything outside of a relationship. Still the company and conversation were both very much appreciated and enjoyed.

In the morning noone showed up as they slept in so I went for a walk and got accosted by a man who wanted to talk about everything and nothing. Though to be fair I just realised a fair few people probably have that feeling with me. We all walked around the two forts and I did my usual wandering off to explore every nook. I wanted to head into La Perla (a rough but incredibly pretty neighbourhood), but was warned by some guys down there at the wall to ´back the fuck up and get out of there´. Although his mate did offer me heroin as a consolation. We even got a talk on the fort ala Fort Sumter. The dynamic was weirder with four of us and I kind of wanted some more one to one time, as I figure people really open up there and thats when you get to know them best and when you have the more intense, interesting discussions. When there is a group everyone leaves a little bit of themselves off the table unless they are all great friends and privy to all the secrets of each others lives. I saw them off at the port and was sad to see them leave, although at the time I was under the impression I would see them again in a few weeks. I wandered around the town again to all my favourite places, thinking a lot and then went to El Batey to listen to music and drink with my thoughts. Then I seem to have come back and feverishly scribbled stuff down. I wanted to write this then that night, but some guy kicked me off the computer. As the Hagakure says 'You should do things the moment they occur to you or your naturally cautious head will talk you out of them'. Hopefully thats not the case here. I still am a firm believer that its impossible to read someone if you want to see something there, because you look for what you want, rather than what is there. I seem to have challenged Hunter S Thompson, who believed that people only believed in fate when they were inacapable of making good decisions and I disagree, siding more with Paulo Coelhos destiny, that if people are meant to cross paths they will do again. Well passport issues mean strike one to Hunter S Thompson, but my faith is still with the Portuguese. Its random how life can throw people together at random times and how you can form a very deep click with someone, only for fate to take that away from you again. Fates like the devil in the desert. Was kind of funny coincidental though. I think I get sentimental in my old age. Both of us took political science, both of us dropped out of law for exactly the same reason, we both enjoy talking sense and bollocks for hours. Was an interesting quote from Razumikhin in Crime and Punishment. We all have to talk a lot of bollocks, until some of us stumble into sense. Hell we even have the same weird freaky eye colours. I loved Puerto Rico and everything about the island. Its like God gave me a shot in the arm when I was flagging and needed it most (never mind that he shot me several times and left me to die in Dominican Republic). Though it is remarkable how trivial conversation is never satisfactory once you have talked in depth with someone, but that everyone you meet instinctively reflexively withdraws a little the next time you meet them. Like they overextended and are scared of where their easyness took them last time. They need that reassurance that they have not erred, when usually those periods of deep overextension form the deepest bonds and provide the greatest satisfaction. Why is humanity always so scared to by human? And we always fear those we have trusted until they earn our absolute trust and then there is just serenity in that persons company. Hmm I am going off on a tangent now. A more controlled tangent than my drunken writings originally, but my notes must be firing up some past memory. Perhaps I would not have written like this if I had not promised my book would be an honest interpretation of my trip. All I know is Puerto Rico is a very rich port indeed, I enjoyed my time there immensely, I am annoyed at myself for not being able to go to Canada and catch up with Marie-France again. Oh well there is always the Amazon and Galapagos etc. Seconds out, round two. Thompson v Coelho. Place your bets on that one now. I won't gamble on this one as I'd stack the dice.

Hmm maybe I should just blaze off a book on my ponderous philosophy lol. There was more rain in the morning and the internet was down, so hence why I am writing this now. I walked part way and bussed the rest of the way to the airport. There were no gate indicators at the airport so I had to ask customs where to go. They also had a casino there, but it only had the stupid $1 blackjack machines. I like to gamble $20 a hand as it works out better. Somehow I left my passport in the casino and again later in a newsagent. Not sure where my head was. Probably still in San Juan and I would pay dearly for this absent mindedness later. Going through security I was subjected to a machine called the ´sniffer´. You stand in what looks like a teleporter and are blasted by gusts of air. Apparently it sniffs chemicals and drugs. What a cool funky machine even if it is intimidating at first. Ah shit. I had to go on a fucking propellor plane. I hate those things and remember the crap one we went to Ireland with for work. Albeit this one was better. Dominican Customs forms are strange affairs. They list what you can and can't bring into the country. It makes no allowance for clothes, you can only bring 5 childrens toys (random number), a radar (what?), only one pair of binoculars (why so specific) and you must be able to demonstrate a musical instrument is for personal use (what if you suck like me? Do you get you instrument confiscated? I am now imagining Lister from Red Dwarf shredding his guitar in Santo Domingo airport). A short while later I was touching down in Santo Domingo, I picked up my ten dollar tourist card and I was arriving into a whole new shitstorm.