Mistress of My Desires

33 & Green: This has been marinating since joining IGOUGO in 3/01, but some of the actual ingredients go back to my first trip ever off the mainland for a week's stay in San Juan. This could wait no longer in celebrating the 10-year anniversary of when I got swept away and blown out to sea...

My Secret Rendezvous: You don't have to tell me how difficult it is to have a meaningful, long-distance relationship. I seem to always find a way to steal in at least once a year rekindling passions. But 4-hour layover quickies often can't suffice.


Romancing The Sandstone: It happened in Old San Juan, amid the towering fortress walls that espouse the cobblestone streets delicately graced with tantalizing beauties.

Smooth Groove: Salsa, the island's signature music, conjures a laid-back feeling no matter how upbeat the tempo. Let the rhythms create your encounter as the ever-playing aphrodisiac all but choreographs every flow of movement.

The Seduction: San Juan's metro area is enticing; all but an indulgence trap. But when I've time, there's a 100 by 35-mile enchanted sensualist waiting to be stroked as recapitulated; Tropical Paradise Without the Passport.

Quick Tips:

Fulfilling Fantasy:If you're still a virgin only entertaining Caribbean longings, Puerto Rico is an unrestrained yet courtly first-time experience. It's been adulterated with everything that's American, often producing a familiar Floridian look and feel.

Point of Pick-Up: When eye contact, body language, or the simple smile can't properly convey your wants and needs, try English. It's widely spoken.

The One-Night Stand: Even without planning an extended stay, there's still ample opportunity to wallow thanks to overnight layovers for departing cruise ships, and Luis Muñoz Marin airport serving as American Airlines's connecting hub to the Caribbean.

Orgy of it All: Private, stolen moments are often hard to come by; especially when ships are in port. Public displays of affection and admiration become a shared yet individual expression, each entangled in their own personal love affair.

Pandering the Look: There's a very forward and active Tourism Department that has a pair of quarterly publications, which always include features, photos, and detailed walking maps of Old San Juan. There's a bureau office in the airport, next to where luggage is retrieved, where you can also find these, along with other island information.

Best Way To Get Around:

Backseat Freak: Preset cab fares from Airport to Old San Juan run one-way, not including tip, sometimes even cheaper when returning. They regularly cruise looking for action, or you'll find them hanging out on corners around Plaza de Colón.

Lo Se Volverá Loco: Driving in Old San Juan will make you crazy, but don't let that keep you away. When crossing the lagoon bridges heading towards the old city, look for Highway 1/Calle la Marina, which runs along the southern rim and towards numerous parking lots.

Folly on the Trolley: Hop on one of these historically restored coaches for free rides along two specific routes outlined in city maps.


Foot Fetish: You could never fully appreciate or understand essence of presence without the vigorous massaging from plazas and back alleys; the greenest of lawns and gardens. Old San Juan was made for walking while lavishing sights, sounds, and aromas.

Tramping Around...: The public bus terminal is also just off Calle la Marina with frequent arrivals/departures on various lines. Twenty-five cents gets you anywhere you need to go without transfers. Make sure you've an updated map; upgrades/expansions cause constant changes.

Long gone are days of finding rooms along Condado or Isla Verde strip for $30 a night, or booking 7-night stay packages for $595, including airfare. Last time I checked, the cheapest room listed through agencies when making one-night layovers was $89, not including taxes. Thankfully, there's still a pair of overlooked options for budget travelers.

Guesthouse Old San Juan, located at 205 Calle Tanca in the heart of the old city, has became my faithful hideaway regardless of how long I plan on staying. This last trip, I paid $20 a night for a large room with fan and double bed, but have paid as little as $10 for a smaller room, or $25 for a room with air-conditioning. Vicente "Quique" Castro is the bilingual owner; reservations should be made by calling 787/722-5436.

A second option, Fortaleza Guest House, is just around the corner at 303 Calle Fortaleza. I've stayed here twice when the other was full. Rooms are basically the same; more expensive at $30, but perhaps because I was last-minute desperate! Their number is 787/721-7112; they only speak Spanish.

Both guest houses are located on the second/third floors, so be prepared to haul luggage up stairs. Just know that in either place, you're getting what you pay for - a simple room with crude furnishings, shared bathrooms, soap/towel, and, most likely, a fan, but vaulted ceilings enhance coolness. Rooms with street balconies are noisy. Also don't be surprised to find some guests taking advantage of cheap prices as full-time housing.


Facilities are questionably clean, unless taking into account the gradual aging process and wear and tear that comes with it. It's historically gritty with a bordello-like feel, which only heightens the experience, perhaps edgy for some, yet I always sleep like a baby - even when riding out a hurricane and stranded with a Yankee.

Proprietors have always been more than willing to call a cab when returning to the airport during normal hours. For 7 a.m. or earlier departures, you'll need to walk, carrying your luggage, three long blocks to the southwest corner of Plaza de Colón to find a taxi stand.

With round-trip cab fare from the airport including room cost, you're still paying less than if staying out on the strip, but I consider location to be the biggest attraction. When in Condado or Isla Verde, I always felt obligated to tear myself away from the tourist trap to spend minimal time skirting Old San Juan.

Finding these places allowed me to develop a greater, in-depth appreciation and fascination for this historic city; every defining aspect is within easy walking distance, including the main bus terminal for wherever else you'll need to go within the metro area.

If you're on a budget, or looking for something different, without minding the lack amenities, and quick beach access, you'll find these places are definitely unforgettable.

When showing up without knowing what to expect, a good first impression is always most important; especially if time together could be limited. Keep it simple. Based on Latin enlightenment, expect initial perceptions to be flirtatious, yet traditionally old-fashioned.

Plaza de Colón is likely best for initial greetings. A statue of Christopher Columbus rises above a rotunda lined with steps and fountains centered in this large plaza dividing San Juan between old to the west, and newer to the east. Regardless of what plans transpire, use this as launching point whether taking a taxi, free historic trolley, or straying hand-in-hand.

Off the northeast/back-side of the plaza, Avenida Muñoz Rivera climbs the steep hill leading towards entrance of Fort San Cristobal. Only if time permits would you consider this a must-see compared to what waits further down Calle Norgazaray. Keep going until coming to El Campo de Morro; a sprawl of wide-open green concealing the best awaiting in Old San Juan.


The graveled walkway is longer than it looks but worth every step of the way across windswept lawns leading to Fuerte San Felipe del Morro, crowning jewel defining the entire island. The facade is level and rather plain upon approach, but once inside richness detailing Puerto Rico, Rich Port, unfolds. Six levels of cavernous citadels terrace downward towards the sea.

Expect to get a rise...in form of goose bumps, regardless of how much devotion becomes inspired. Look for intricate details beyond the obvious; El Morro is one of those places commanding attention using every sensory mode a body can muster.

The main gate is open daily from 9 am to 5 pm with $5 admission fee. Tickets are also good for San Cristobal which seems like nothing if you chance encounter El Morro first.


Plaza del Quinto Centenario is across Calle Norzagaray from El Morro's lawn with sculptures, artwork, and dancing waters great for passing through on hot days if appropriately attired. Heading up steps, the street jogs in back of plaza before turning south as Calle del Cristo; Old San Juan's artery for street festivals and celebrating. Beginning with Plaza San José, numerous bars and grills are great for lingering.

Two blocks down, Catedral de San Juan crowns a small hill; worth a quick peek as it doubles as a tomb for Ponce de León. Calle del Cristo converts into a tourist haven with upscale shops and eateries inviting shared experiences. Street dead-ends at historic Capilla del Cristo with pidgeon-ladened Parque de las Palomas to the right.

Eventually meander your way in direction of Plaza de Armas, which anchors the historic center. There are plenty of shaded benches, unless opting for sitting around bases of the fountain or band shell-sized gazebo, or one of the outdoor cafés serving rich coffee blends. Survey susceptibilities after this introductory engagement; gaze deeply at the one you're entertaining and determine if fate is worth a second go-round where intentions only become more intimate.

Plaza de Hostos is a secondary meeting place initially chaperoned. It's left of cruise ship piers and abuzz with the curious frequenting La Casita, which houses a tourism information center. Leaving crowds behind, make your way left onto the Paseo de la Princesa and prepare for captivation.

This special walkway skirts outer walls of the old city and is worth repeat passage at various stages of sunlight, or nightfall when streetlamps and spotlights zero-in on significance. Decorative palm trees lining the initial stretch are stunted by fortress walls towering behind them. Beyond rows of shaded benches are small gardens with statues and local artwork clearly labeled with intent.


La Princesa is the city's historic jail; an intriguing colonial structure now incarcerating the island's tourism headquarters. But most breeze right passed, drawn towards the spectacular la Fontana de las Raíces containing bronze sculptures depicting formations of local heritage. Spray from the waters is driven by winds coming off the harbor. Terraced decks contain fully-exposed benches and frequent lovers. Sunset romance is further catered to on Sundays from 5:30-7:30 with musical performances.

Rounding the corner, La Muralla imposes full attention for closer inspections of the historic sandstone walls. The myriad of perspectives are confounding, tightly pinned between power of presence and sultry scents from the bay. Structures and objects peeking over the top remind that you're an outsider all but voyaging back in time.

Garden alcoves spring forth from the wall's indentions suggesting this effort is something not to rush. The densest of shade provides comfort from the Caribbean sun, but the coolest effects come from the wall, with numerous places to stop and grope. Place your face against its soothing touch, even in the darkest of night, while personally serenaded by natural sounds of Old San Juan.

The halfway point of this Lovers' Lane is distinguished at the Puerta de San Juan; one of six original gated passageways into the city, and the only one remaining. Otherwise, the walkway continues onward; this portion open until 10:00 pm.

Finally completed in the late ‘90s, second half of the paseo contrasts the refined subtleties earlier encountered and gets strictly down to the business of fortification. There's nothing quaint about this excerpt the almost 500-year purpose of warding off strangers. Even locals shy away from this stretch until sunset joggers and speed walkers brave the course.


In-depth details on large information placards are placed almost as strategically along the walk as the massive ramparts and bulwarks which overshadow them. Fascination in words pales in comparison with abrupt proximity of El Morro, firmly fixed into the cliffs. Nothing's as impressive as the aerial views dominating postcards, but venturing to the point and wishing for vision-contained, wide-angle mode is a must.

Signs say to keep off the rocks, but obedience hampers further viewings. There's a water fountain; my only encounter during this last jaunt made in high-noon heat. Best panoramas reveal themselves walking back towards la puerta. Enter the city, and bide your time until conquest awaits at dusk...

The few uphill blocks on Calle Tanca only escalate the beating of my heart after rushing in and out of the guesthouse to deposit luggage. There's a different type of baggage that always needs unpacking first. Once reaching Calle Norzagaray, what awaits has became my defining ceremony of auto-exorcism for wiping the slate clean.

Just to the left of the small park area is a stretch of 9-foot high fortress barriers. Vault yourself up through one of the lowered rampart indentions, climb atop, and head where ever the wall may lead...

La Perla is the haphazardly assembled community just below the walls, but don't let warmth of assorted pastel colored buildings fool you. The streets are narrow and often filled with inhabitants in a crude but luring way. Enjoy views from your elevated observation deck but never accept an invitation to descend for a visit or simply getting a closer look. This intriguing area is one of the most dangerous for the entire island!

When approaching the large Neurobiological Research Center, the wall takes a right for gaining a profile view of La Perla and realizing just how stacked some of the make-shift structures are. Here you'll come across your first Garita (Sentry Box); strategically placed look-outs built into the fortress walls, which have become Puerto Rico's signature icon. There's a steep, walkable incline behind the research building leading towards El Cemeterio San Juan and the expansive Campo del Morro lawn leading up towards the featured fortress.

There's a soul-stirring affect of contrasts through these parts; modern-day life as islanders flock to the massive green sprawl for kite flying, exercising, family time, romance, and about any other excuse for indulgence. To the right is one of the oldest cemeteries on the island, which is filled with a mind-boggling assortment of tombs and shrines honoring those of years gone by whom once undoubtedly enjoyed the same types of leisure on the wall's other side.

By the time you've reached the western edge of the cemetery, winds from the nearby ocean have magnified in an embracing sort of way, all but murmuring the many silenced voices from the past mingled with conversations and laughs from those on the other side. Find a comfortable perch; stop to listen while taking in one of the best scenes from San Juan's northern shore.

The wall begins to climb the hill towards El Morro and I always begin to sense the power and security of presence trekking across their familiar tops in making what has became a pilgrimage. Beyond the northern wall towards the pounding Atlantic, shaded slopes are covered with some of the densest growth of sea grape trees; another good place to stop and reflect in coolness without the sun.

Coming to a small bunker, there's a brief spot where you'll need take to the turf and you'll discover just how steep the natural incline has been that the rampart has spared you. Once you can step back on the wall, you're at the inner courtyard of El Morro where you can explore outer areas.

Usually the fortress is closed by the time I've began my jaunt, but just to the side of the entry walkway are stairs leading into a moat-like area with plush grass; great for sitting against the shaded walls which have been standing almost 500 years. Let their cool gentle firmness massage your back and your mind. There's also an area against the bay that gives some pretty spectacular views of the six levels of citadels as they descend towards the water.

By now, I'm usually near trance-like state rejoining the wall making a beeline for my "If I could be anywhere in the world" spot atop the cliff that perilously plunges towards the bay. About halfway down this segment is a small circular extension; big enough for two people, and where you're likely to find me of an evening if I'm in town.

Others sporadically pass behind; some lingering at times but this is one of those places where it's easy to savor the extended moments all to yourself. The mouth of the harbor is hemmed from tiny Isla de Cabros lined with mesmerizing palm trees dwarfed in the distance so as not to upstage the pending evening event. More hypnotic and therapeutic than the couch in any shrink's office, the stages of sunset melt to the core of my being.

I've had some landmark occurrences here, regardless of how drab and colorless the skies might have been. Thoughts which run through any of our minds on a regular basis are one thing, but I'm always hypnotically amazed at what hidden factors tend to resurface as unknown issues seeking resolutions. Regardless of which point of dusk I've arrived, the sun slipping below the distant horizon is my time piece for knowing when it's appropriate to move on...along the wall and life in general.

Once this portion of wall has ended, you'll need to take to the steep, grassy hill descending towards Casa Rosa; the pink, colonial structure once serving as military barracks. You'll have to step over an unguarded "no entry" cable for remounting the wall. There's a small bulwark where secondary defense cannons once fired, which also has other soul-stirring views over the harbor and distant peninsula. The area seems to be a popular gathering place for evening dog walkers, but if you're like me, they won't be the only transformation encountered.

A care-free, kid-like manner has always been restored by the time I've reached these segments; walking the long, narrow stretches of straight-away as if performing a tight-rope act for those looking up from the malecón below, or finding myself advancing to greater distance-leaps in the v-shaped indentions evenly distributed along the rampart walls.

Random garitas beckon a more inquisitive, youthful approach than their earlier counterparts, and the playful environment is only heightened from the pair of tennis courts and basketball courtyard always teeming with sounds and energy of life. Should you thirst for more, there's a water spicket along the drive though you may have to wait your turn - including for leashed dogs and their masters.

By now, the historic street lamps lining the promenade and beyond walls in the old city have emblazoned an ambiance, ushering in tranquility and romance of another Caribbean night. A variety of bougainvillea, flamboyáns, and other assorted tropical trees and plants overshadow the wall and parts of this final stretch garden. And then, the sweetest music obscurely blends into the sultry, tropical air...the chirping of the coquí frogs found only on this island; the last confirmation I need to indicate I'm exactly where I should be.

The last section of traversable wall ends at a gated entry that is always open and leads to a small courtyard called Plazuela de la Rogativa; the small plaza of the religious procession. There's a rather haunted looking, larger-than-life bronze statue of the bishop of San Juan and three of his parishioners brandishing torches to commemorate the attempted British siege in 1797, and how their desperate, but successful, tactics fooled the troops into immediate retreat, thinking they'd been outnumbered.

By the time I've reached this point, the unknown, unexplainable transfixion I crave has undeniably taken place. It may be the end of my welcome back ritual, but if you're like me, you'll marvel at the new beginnings whether turning uphill on a side street or continuing towards the historical Puerta de San Juan. Then again, there's always an inviting bench to steady yourself until some of the capricious intoxications of regained liberation subside.

-- Over time, I have discovered that it is possible to begin outside Fuerte San Cristóbal and walk the city's perimeters to Puerta de San Juan from atop the fortress walls. With each return visit, this is still my favorite thing to do en Viejo San Juan; great for elevated perspectives and astounding Photo Opportunities

Often on a tight schedule and even tighter budget, food is usually the least of my priorities while opting to sate an appetite of a different kind. I'm a faithful patron to some, but there's also always a new find on the blocks that manages to catch and satisfy my attention. Here's a few of my favorites, all conveniently located near the guesthouses:

Breakfast
Coffee dominates my Breakfast of Champions with a large costing $.89 at the Burger King on the corner of Tanca and San Francisco. There's a nice morning-shaded plaza across the street to enjoy while waking up! Fast-food joints litter the Old City with familiar fair and slightly cheaper prices.

However, this last adventure, I found San Juan has finally caught up with the Starbuck's craze, and there's a new one just off the southwestern corner of Plaza de Colón heading south. Their pastry case is loaded with sweetbreads, muffins, and specialties featuring tamarind, guava, and other tropical pastes; a large coffee costing $1.80, great for enjoying outside at one of the umbrella-shaded tables while watching the city come to life.

Tío Danny's, at 313 Fortaleza, has been a long-time favorite that is full of surprises since it's always undergone another change for keeping up with competition. If they still happen to be serving breakfast, a plate of eggs, potatoes, and choice of meat with bread and coffee is never more than $4. I've also had some exceptional local cuisine for lunch within the same price range, but the bonus is dining in the center courtyard of the colonial-styled historical building; something you'd never expect from the street. As of the summer of 2003, they convert into an upscale seafood house of an evening well beyond my price range.

A couple of other favorite stand-bys are Cafeteria Mallorca at 300 Calle de San Francisco and La Bombanera just down the block and across the street at 259 San Francisco. Both offer standard, sit-down breakfasts for under $5. Their window fronts are loaded with fresh-baked items, both serve lunch, and La Bombanera stays open late for dinner with nothing on the menu costing over $15. The latter is worth passing through just to see this old-time diner and fountain counter operating "as is and as has been" historically for almost a century.

Lunch
I stumbled across a new find during my last extended visit that's rather obscure but worth tracking down. Café Celeste is tucked away at 197 Callejón de la Capilla; a small alley that runs between San Francisco and Fortaleza. Initially I was drawn to the music and large crowd in the passageway of a late night...long after the food was gone. It's definitely a local hot spot without the frills, beers costing $1.50.

For dining, they only serve lunch beginning around 10am and going until all the food for the day has been devoured. There's a new menu posted out front daily featuring 6 Creole favorites, such as stewed shredded beef in salsa, fried chicken, pork roast, pepper steak, and codfish just to name a few. Everything is packaged and ready for take-out, including large portions of rice and beans, salad, and non-alcoholic beverage of choice for $5.

The space is very limited and crowded inside with compact walls lined with stand-up counters for eating on the run. Outside in the alley, there are a few shaded patio tables and chairs great for confirming you've found a memorable place. Aside from barely being able to finish what adequately suffices as the meal for the day, local life parades by to the beat of whatever Latin music is pulsing inside. Call it the final indicator of success, but I was surprised at the number of local business people in suits which made a quick appearance before returning to the office with a haul. I highly recommend this place.

Dinner
The last meal of the day has always been somewhat of a challenge, and why I like to load-up on a late lunch regardless of afternoon heat factor. All the local-based places have closed, leaving a huge dining void with choices limited to posh, upscale-priced restaurants or fast-food; all their availabilities inconsistent based on whether cruise ships are in port.

On the ground level next to the guesthouse on Tanca is a standard, Asian-run Chinese food take-out restaurant with lots of seating and the typical menu read around the world. They've tried recreating a few of the local dishes with rice, but stick with what they know - sweet and sour chicken or pork, veggie medley in garlic sauce, etc., for under $6, not including drink. It's something, if not convenient, and I find myself here more than I care to remember. Meals are made to order; obvious by the long wait if there's any type of business for the night.

I don't patronize fast-food establishments at home and cringe at the thought of doing so here. But there's a pair of local chains serving up something different to spare you from McDonald's, Pizza Hut, KFC and the likes.

Flamer's is on the corner of Tanca and Tetuah, and La Meson Grill is swallowed next door to Wendy's at the northwest corner across from Plaza de Arma. They've a large selection of salads and specialty sandwiches, but it's a pleasant change of pace to have a helping of tostones, boiled yucca, rice and beans, and other local favorites as side dishes. You can leave either of these places stuffed for under $7.

Street Vendors
What's a Latin encounter without swarms of vendors hawking drinks and snacks from make-shift carts? A day-time favorite are paraguas; cups of shaved ice saturated in tropical flavored syrups; better than any snow cone you'll ever have. They offer two sizes and I've never paid more than $2 for a large.

Vendors tend to flock to a pair of high-traffic areas. You'll find them on Calle Norzagaray at the corner of the lawn leading up towards El Morro Fortress. This is also where you can purchase kites should you care to test your luck around the wind-swept sprawl. Vendors here are also only out until the sun goes down.

The other cluster are always filling the plaza area just off the docks where cruise ship passengers come aground, and are often scattered along the straight-away entry to Paseo de la Princesa promenade. Expect their prices to be higher; especially if purchasing consumables or tourist trinkets from an immigrant vendor.

The best experiences here come on evenings when there isn't a ship in port and the local, die-hard entrepreneurs are out like they've been for centuries. Surprisingly, pizza off one of these carts was decent; a large slice of pepperoni and coke for under $5.

More than a Night
If planning on being around a couple of days, I head for the Super-Ex Mercado (formerly Pueblo de San Juan supermarket) on Calle Cruz on the eastern side of Plaza de Arma. You'll find a little of everything you would at home, but I challenge you to try the local brands of items rather than U.S./global kinds. You'll be pleased at the differences.

Similar snacks and things for the room can also be found at Walgreen's on the northeast corner of Plaza de Arma or at a local drug store chain just across the street. The local version is more interesting, but both are priced higher than at the grocery store.

Well-rehearsed images are always enticingly the same: Sitting on the left, at an "A"-window seat of an American Airlines jet; beyond needing verbal queues from flight crew or feel of the plane's descent. Heart and mind racing with anticipation serve as the built-in compass, confirmed by Atlantic white-caps becoming more distinguishable. Tease of peering through the window is almost unbearable until finally glimpsing "the enchanted one".

These treasured visions have became an incurable obsession in progress. They never tire or fade, but conveniently keep luring me back for re-embellishments - enough time to rendezvous with what's obviously become manic fixation that I'm not sure how long I could survive without.

When heading from the States and debarking the plane, it's as if eternally waiting for that initial perfumed scent, or first warm embrace ... natural Viagra for the soul. I'm still enamored from that first chance encounter, but it's taken all 10 years of this ongoing tryst for rendering myself hopelessly enthralled; willing to wallow uncontrollably in questionable spoils of infidelities until one of us ceases to exist.

Scattered Seeds...Call it a Latin Thing
As a first-time visitor, it would've been shameful not to have paid proper respects through a brief, introductory acquainting with elders held in highest esteem. Tearing myself away from the beach scene involved more obligation than I cared for, but some things in life need to be done regardless of motivation.


I found her waiting almost as if she'd been expecting me. Perhaps nothing special beyond daily routine for anyone else seeking to pay homage, but inviting just the same. Seizing initial hospitality was hesitant thanks to my own agenda. I'm sure half-hearted company was nothing unfamiliar when it comes to the aged.

Going through the motions of showing interest in past significance was poorly disguised. However, when life has been rich and full for those with seasoned understanding, they need muster no special effort for bridging generational gaps. Whether appreciated or ignored, it's all the same.

Shame of actions didn't fully reveal until later, combing through photos and realizing how much had been taken for granted. Thankfully, a camera had preserved the grandeur, which a forced presence had chosen to reject. Enlargements eventually hanging around only begged to have details filled in.

An extended weekend back in Isla Verde was just that and nothing more. But after a second reappearance with fellow New Yorkers claiming to love Puerto Rico based on nothing more than tourist traps masquerading as beach resorts, I could no longer justify shortcomings. Pleading my case, there were no curious takers leaving confines for anything beyond.

Determined not to settle for labeling myself a resort tourist, returning with a rental car seemed only way to soothe the magnetic affection that had been tempting me forward. I gorged myself with those initial tastes of island life; reluctant to tear myself from the spread with final days waiting back in San Juan. After checking into my Condado hotel, there was a hunger still waiting to be fed.

It was late afternoon when parking along the stately northern passageway. Crossing street, a convincing leap placed me atop the fortress wall with a commanding presence typical of a macho-driven society. Demure vistas were mine for the taking without indecision while blazing an unknown path that would become my defining ingredient. And then, I stepped out of the shadows.

There she was, still waiting as if knowing I'd be back. The brujas de Santeria must have caste a spell melting to the core of my being; dumb-struck and totally exposed from gaze of presence radiating in stages of sunset. There were no more obligatory pleasantries or formalities. The veil had came off as if in desperation to keep from loosing me a second time. Later, after some swoon-struck first-time experience, I declared my eternal devotion and moved in the next day.

Back in New York, friends weren't overly interested in what could've possibly transpired beyond resort walls. Sneering was only appropriate when invited back for another timeshare on Isla Verde. Besides, a steamy summer reencounter had already been devised.


By now the leash had come off, living only 3- half hours away, but Old San Juan had developed as my ideal version of domestic; the perfect kind of package to come home to on a routine basis. And no matter how far I strayed, loyalty and faithfulness always remained true in my heart. When it came to flirting with distant relatives, the ugly firstborn sister next door; the motherland and family roots beyond, there was still only one I cared to be with.

The Mistress Scorned
I'll never forget the arriving flight while looking out over shapely figure sprawled before me. It was no secret how badly I wanted to retrieve bags, cancel connecting flight, and sneak in for an extended massage of libido. But I kept going; willing to settle for my first layover quickie on the way home, except plans got rerouted through Santo Domingo only detouring guilt of actual cheating.

There's no denying something drastically changed. Like anyone consumed with inner-struggles, avoiding confrontation was typical first line of defense. Coyly playing things off wasn't fooling anyone but myself; especially after those first few overnight layovers trying to fake old delusions. The art of distractions can be a bittersweet weapon; especially if used once too often.

Succumbing to whatever had reignited the itch, a surprise late appearance for our five-year commemoration was in order.

Thinking I could prowl back for a three-night stay like nothing happened was not transpiring. Landing in hot water is one thing. Dealing with constant tears and howling wrath quite the other. Pacing around while fully exposed sanctioned hollow rejection...returning lock myself in the room, playing chicken. Forewarnings about false sense of calm in the eye of the storm was all the allusions needed. No sense making a bad situation worse, and I caught the first flight available; dodging collision until things blew over.

Time was my only consoling partner until deciding to test fate and slip back for "a night". There was no second guessing what had to be done, but who was I kidding? Crawling back every inch of the way would be worth ending separation. My charge was still connected; mere presence erasing any need for words. A blazing sunset rendered a submissive truce; unspoken secrecy that can make or break a man's character.

Desiring Temptation - The Gratified Scenario
I lie motionless in the bed as not to wake a soul. The drowsy clack of the overhead fan serves as orchestrated soundtrack for the night. Smoke can be seen hanging in the distant air with the glow of every inhale; a red light patiently clicks away numbers...the digital alarm clock not set to go off for at least another hour.

A renewed sense of spirit never quite blooms with eclipsing guilt; shameless but hampering just the same. Contemplative silence embraces the darkness, and I figure there's no sense prolonging the inevitable with bridled anticipation. After quietly gathering my things, I firmly grasp the door in hopes of muffling the squeak that would signal my slipping out. There's no mystery, I'll eventually be back.

The city is sleeping comfortably with balcony doors flung open for wooing the predawn breeze; the lack of noise a rare luxury. For having such a lighter feeling about myself, there's always a counter-balance for suddenly how heavy bags weigh me down as I pass along abandoned Calle Fortaleza. Sometimes the cabbies don't even ask. They just know.

Almost as if in respect to the silence of nocturnal magic, car stereos usually are not even turned on, giving perfect opportunity to begin processing the latest discretions into titillations. Contrition never has a chance against the all but twisted satisfaction; likely no different than marauding pirates of yore. But when is a little of something ever enough? Especially when it seems so forbidden? So far I've restrained never giving in to the taunting self-deceptions by asking the driver to turn the car around.

Crossing bridges over the lagoon transports illusion back to actuality. Twinkling of the distant Condado strip is an image burned deeply into my mind that I frequently lose myself in; rows of beachfront hotels lit-up in the darkness with hints of a new day just beyond. I suppose significance is harbored in parting sadness and the whole I can't believe I went off and did this again conflict. What's done is done.

The puddle-jumper whizzes down the runway towards the rising sun before sharply clipping over Isla Verde beach in a 180˚o turn that fully shifts everything westward and back towards internal purposeful perspective.


Distance of separation grows ever so slightly but not before allowing one last look; tempting as ever, seductively laid back like a siren by the sea. At this point, call it mutual understanding and one last harmless flirtation, however futile. She knows; I've found another.