December Sunburn in Puerto Rico

I'll never know if this place has a name in Spanish, as there is no sign out front, but the only English word I ever heard from the owner was "cash". While I appreciated Señor Castro's lack of English skills—since it presented a rare opportunity for us to practice Spanish—the mood was quickly broken when he required payment at 1am for our first night's stay.

It seemed that all rooms with air-conditioning lacked windows, having a bizarre arrangement of a/c units extending overhead into the interior hallway. The bathroom is shared—gross—and devoid of everything but toilet paper. There is the famous upstairs room (you can read about it in other reviews), which seems nice and has a window, but no a/c. I must conclude that this greedy old man, who is now charging $45 for these rooms (double what he did four years ago), doesn’t want any cool air escaping to the outside world.

The pay-before-you-sleep system was taken to a new extreme the next morning when Señor Castro demanded cash for the following night (it was 11am!). We paid, only to find out an hour later that a friend had reserved a room for us elsewhere and that there was room for us there. We retrieved our bags, planning to use the prepaid night two days later; once we left Old San Juan, though, we never went back.

It's not clear what Señor Castro does with his earnings from the hotel, as he lives quite plainly in a room almost as bad as the ones he rents out. In any case, who cares--stay away!

Coming from the Guest House Old San, the Hampton seemed almost palatial. I didn't reserve the room myself (I didn't pay for it either!), but I can tell you that if you reserve a room with a government discount, they may not require you to present an ID when you check in. We paid $130 for a large room with two double beds.

The hotel lobby and rooms are all nicely appointed. Our room was easily the largest hotel room I've stayed in, with a front sitting room, a large bathroom, a spacious bedroom, and most amazingly to me, two whole television sets. At home I don't have one, so you can imagine my excitement to have a big TV. in both the sitting room and bedroom.

We did watch some CNN, but I had arrived too late to fully enjoy the bounty of boob-tubes, or any of the room's amenities for that matter. The deluxe accommodations did serve well to banish from our memory the grime of our previous night's lodging. And the continental breakfast was thankfully un-continental in its generous array of food, including eggs and bacon. Though we rushed to get there before it's stated closing time of 9am, the food was not removed for at least an hour beyond that.

The hotel's lobby is home to several large parrots. None were of the Puerto Rican variety, my friend (who is of the Puerto Rican variety) informed me. Cuidado, the free-roaming parrot at the front desk, while friendly, does have an appetite for room keycards.

El Taquito is a chain of Mexican bars in Puerto Rico. This one is located on Isla Verde's main strip, along with other chain restaurants. Interestingly (for us, anyway), all of the parking in that area is tightly controlled to exclude beachgoers, but at this point we were on foot, so we didn't have to negotiate the gates, spaces, etc.

There was nothing spectacular about El Taquito, but we were lucky to have a friendly bartender who didn't know any English. (This was the second and final time we got to use Spanish on the island.) It was gratifying, in a cruel way perhaps, to see an American family come in a few minutes later and proudly order dos margaritos, whatever that means. Finally, our chance to snicker at tourists whose Spanish was worse than ours! An American bartender came out of nowhere to tend to them, and to our amazement, we noticed that this Puerto Rican resident knew very little Spanish herself. She did, though, know the answer to their query, "Where's the nearest Wal-Mart around here?"

If you go to El Taquito, just order some of the cheap beers on the menu. The margaritas we had weren't very good, and neither was the overpriced quesadilla.

It's worth going into El Yunque rain forest just to prove to yourself that it's there. It's quite a treat to go from a hot, dry beach to a mountainous, cooler, and perennially raining forest.

While taxis may charge $80 or more to get you to the park, you can get there easily in a rental car ($30, gracias a Dios) if you know where you're going . There is a small fee to enter the park, and then you are free to roam.

We drove up the Yokahú tower, from which you can get a beautiful view of the coastline if it's not too cloudy. After that, we backtracked to the La Coca Falls trail. It's a very short distance to the falls, but the trail is clogged with slow-walking tourists who, in our case, seemed unwilling to let us pass. The falls themselves were not particularly impressive, but it's worth going to see them just to get out and walk a bit.

If you're visiting the rain forest in winter, keep in mind that it will be cooler at the higher altitudes and most likely raining. Bring a light rain jacket and wear clothes you don't mind getting wet.

This beach, close to Highway 2 but deserted on a Monday afternoon in December, was perfect. Other than a body boarder who came and went a few hundred yards down from us, we had the beach to ourselves for 4 hours.

The beach is mostly sandy, aside from the rock formation near the entrance road that extends under the water a bit farther than you might expect. And though the water wasn't picture-perfect Caribbean blue, it was crystal-clear compared to the U.S. East Coast. Most importantly, it was plenty warm enough for swimming.

I did a little diving with my swim goggles and, to my surprise, saw some kind of black and white tropical fish. It wouldn't have been noteworthy in a coral reef, but it's the coolest thing I've ever seen diving into the surf. The surf, by the way, is pretty rough. You probably won't go out more than once unless you're comfortable being tossed around rag-doll style by the breaking waves.

This beach is not easy to find. We were told to look for signs for Lago Guajataca as we traveled East on Highway 2, then to turn left at a road opposite the lake's exit. We did this, turning without much hope onto a small road off the highway. To our surprise, it headed straight to the ocean and eventually down to the beach.

Once we'd had enough sun, salt, and sand, we headed back to the car. We noticed some graffiti on a cement wall that turned out to be anti-American when we stopped to look at it. Something about "go home, cabrones," whatever that means. ;) I'm not afraid of a little anti-American sentiment (hey, I lived in France for a year), but I am glad that the beach was deserted and our afternoon wasn't marred by jeering teenagers. I would say that, if you have the chance, visit this beach during school hours, just in case.

This trip was a surprise birthday present for my boyfriend Leland. We'd been frustrated with our plans to travel to the French island Guadeloupe by infrequent and expensive flights that didn't fit our schedule or budget. After plotting dozens of ways to get from San Juan, Puerto Rico, to Pointe-à-Pitre, Guadeloupe, all of them portentous of travel disaster, I thought, "Why not just stop at San Juan, since it's so easy and cheap to get to?" I have a friend from the island who would be there the weekend before the birthday—things just fell into place. Two days later, the secret plans were made. Two weeks later, we were on a plane.

I had reasoned that with only three days on the island, we would be wise to stay around San Juan. I knew nothing of the island and figured that renting a car would be at least as much of a task as in Europe. (And I doubted the existence of a rail line!) So I booked three nights in a cheap Old San Juan hotel I had found on IgoUgo. The hotel, we discovered on our arrival Friday night, was rather disgusting (more later!), and my Puerto Rican friend booked a room elsewhere for her Saturday evening arrival. She also reserved a rental car for a bit of Sunday driving.

After a few minutes in the car, which we learned had cost about the same as a rental in Tampa (for example), we realized that our plans to remain in San Juan only were a mistake. While the city has some historical neighborhoods, it doesn't have the European (or shall I say un-American?) charm we were expecting. And compared to the natural beauty of the surrounding island, San Juan feels downright drab. Finally, though the nearby mountains reassure you that you haven't landed in Tampa by mistake, the roads and freeways are almost perfect copies of those in the U.S. If you're 25 or older and can drive, there's little reason not to rent a car.

We added my name to the car rental and cancelled our remaining nights at the dumpy hotel. Liberated, we embarked on a trip first to the rain forest, then the beach, and eventually circled the whole island. The beaches, which are gorgeous, are practically deserted in winter months. Don't worry, though; it's plenty warm enough (80ºF on our trip) to sunbathe and swim.

Culturally, things continued to feel pretty American wherever we went. Spanish? Sure, just like the Bronx. With a few exceptions, most people we came across spoke to us in good English or bad English, and ignored our attempts at Spanish. Lest we sound too naive, I should say that we've visited Madrid, Barcelona, and San Sebastian (all in Spain) and spoken nothing but Spanish there. But unless your Spanish is tip-top (and, ideally, you look it), don't expect too much practice time on this island.

When we flew out Monday evening, we felt like we'd been in Puerto Rico for much longer than three days. We saw lots, spent little, and got a mild sunburn. If you're looking for a three-day winter escape and you live near a big East Coast city, book a flight (and a car) for San Juan.

I would advise anyone who's old enough (rental agencies in San Juan, like everywhere else, ban or surcharge drivers younger than 25) to rent a car in Puerto Rico. The island is small enough that you can get almost anywhere in a few hours, and the road quality and signs are bound to give you déjà vu if you're American. They are in Spanish, of course, but you can probably guess what the red octagonal signs mean even if you don't know pare.

Shop around for your San Juan rental and expect to pay about the same as you would for a reservation in a small U.S. city. None of the agencies at the airport seemed to be particularly close, so take your pick.

While most road signs are large, clear, and familiar-looking, many tourist destinations are entirely unmarked. (We heard some speculation that this involves collusion with taxis and tour companies.) If possible, find a good road map indicating tourist destinations before your trip. The one provided to us by Hertz was not of much use; a map given to us by American Airlines was, counter-intuitively, far superior.

Driving on the island was similar to driving in Florida or any other state, with some exceptions:

• Police cars drive around with their lights flashing at all times, inexplicably.
• Speed limit signs are in miles per hour, while distance markers are in kilometers. Yes, they know this is nuts.
• You're likely to see some driving shenanigans that will surprise you, unless you're from New Jersey. Don't panic—most of it's harmless.
• Gas is cheap, like in the U.S. It's a small island. Go crazy!