Puerto Rico
May 2005

We had a busy day ahead of us so we got up relatively early to find another clear day, despite the weather man predicting rain all week. Did you know it was a crime in England in the 1600’s to predict the weather? I’m beginning to think they may have been on to something.
We headed down to the pier where a boatload of American tourists disembarked from their floating skyscraper to head into the mall and the Hard Rock Café so they can buy a t-shirt that proves they went somewhere. Shit, they could’ve found as much genuine Puerto Rico in their local Wal-mart back home.

We picked up a rental car and headed out through the upscale hotel district to the highway where we sped through the heart of San Juan and out into the hills in search of lechon, roast pork.

About 45 minutes outside San Juan is an area famous for it’s roadside shacks serving up local fare. We left the highway and cruised up winding roads until we found a new restaurant, La Casona, Castillo de Guavate, serving lechon for $5.50/pound. A massive deck functions as their dining room overlooking the valley below. Their pig on a spit is proudly displayed at the start of the cafeteria-style line.

Fortunately a woman in line behind us provided us translations when our Spanish failed us and we ended up with plates piled high with pork and other delights. A live band performed for the grand opening of the place, not even yet 100% built yet already hosting a sizable crowd.

The rice and beans were excellent, a very Greek lasagna was fair, some strange combinations of fruit and meat that are common in Caribbean food, but all merely side items to the main course, the lechon that had brought us out of San Juan.

The meat is served plain with only it’s own juices as sauce. We got a variety of pieces, everything from tender meat to ribs to crispy/chewy skin. Not the best pork I’ve had, but I’m a bit of connoisseur when it comes to roast pork. It was a damn fine meal.

We headed off through the hills, climbing higher and higher, trying to reach El Yunque, a national park encompassing a mountain-top rainforest. Unfortunately, our route found us winding up ever-smaller roads past locals who were obviously confused to see pale-faced tourists whipping past in a rental car. Eventually we hit a dead-end and had to turn back, despite confirming the route on three different maps. But the view in those green hills and valleys was well worth it.

We ended up on a larger road that got us to the back side of the park where we wound past small waterfalls and swimming holes, each with a few grinning locals lounging by the stream with kids in tow.

The jungle grew more and lush and dense with the Puerto Rican coqui frogs chirping out their eponymous onomatopoeia in between rumbling thunder from the gray clouds hovering around the peak above. Down the other side, we decided we’d run out of time and wouldn’t be able to visit the main area of the park where you can tour walking trails and there are signs labeling the sights, so we cruised on to the northeast tip of the island near the town of Luquillo where a long row of beach-side shacks serve up local fried fare.

Empanadas, burritos, tacos, plantains, meat-filled fruits and potatoes, all battered and deep-fried. Good stuff, but you can see why the populace tends toward the American average weight rather than the European scale, despite their comparatively active lifestyles.

We headed back toward San Juan, stopping at a roadside bar/liquor store where the proprietor mixes his own sangria in empty liquor bottles. His version is pink, made from guava and white wine, thick and sweet but refreshing when served over ice. At $7.50 a bottle, it’s one of the better deals we found.
Back at the apartment, we debated going out for the night. There was a drag show our hostess wanted to see but after a couple bottles of sangria on the balcony we lost momentum and motivation. The threatened rains finally appeared around midnight to cool us off.