In which Roz and Layla explore a rainforest and learn to paddleboard

By Roz

We awoke to the sound of an alarm – a noise that has become pleasantly unfamiliar on this trip – to get up in time for our trip to the rainforest, El Yunque. It’s the only rainforest in the US national park system and is spoken of with much excitement. We’d wanted to go by ourselves, since our research had established it isn’t the kind of rainforest that requires you to hack your way through the undergrowth, and it sounded as though there was little risk of disappearing forever through taking a wrong turning. Frustratingly, however, we had to take a tour because the only way to get there otherwise was an exorbitantly priced taxi, which neither of us could reconcile ourselves to when a tour was about a quarter of the price of a one-way taxi ride.

The guide, Louis, proved to be a jovial chap. He had a somewhat unfortunate interest in housing prices and spent a certain amount of the journey to the rainforest pointing to random properties and letting us know what they were worth. I admit that I was, on occasion, just as nerdy about house prices in Camberwell…but at least I tried to keep this enthusiasm to myself. The others on the tour were pleasant enough (and at least managed to make appropriately interested noises when informed about house prices). Two of them, from Brooklyn, had glamorous outfits and flip-flops on, which contrasted interestingly with our hardcore hiking garb…

Arriving at the rainforest, our first stop was the visitor centre. This proved to be a much more comprehensive affair that the ramshackle places we’ve come across on previous trips to rainforests. Having acquired smoothies and some “emergency” crisps, our first stop was a film about El Yunque. The film brought out the worst in Layla and me, and I’m (slightly) ashamed to admit that we sat in the back row and giggling at the oh-so-worthy voiceover which sought to inspire and educate.

From there, it was off to hike, after we’d seen the odd waterfall and gazed seemingly endlessly at various plants, as instructed by Louis. (I should say that we did muster some genuine enthusiasm for the “painted gum” tree – which has multi-coloured vertical stripes all the way down the bark. We’d seen it the day before, in Santurce, and assumed that the tree had actually been painted by locals and was an expression of the arty nature of the area. Finding that these trees naturally appear looking as though they’ve been painted was surprisingly exciting.) The hike itself was lovely (particularly after we managed to lose the others on our tour). It rather reminded us of hiking in South Korea – the trails had pretty much been boarded over with a concrete path – but this was no bad thing. We took lots of pictures (having spectacularly failed to take any for the previous three days) and felt very jolly. We also felt rather pleased with ourselves, since we were the only ones of the 8 on the tour to emerge from the hike not looking completely exhausted. I rather doubt that this is really the ringing endorsement of our fitness that it sounds…

Post-hike it was time for a late lunch at a roadside café. The folded over pizzas were surprisingly tasty, though Layla didn’t look excited at her corn stick. And then back to San Juan where we showered, changed and went out for a drink in a beach café with our books. Occasionally we remembered that we’d be returning to DC shortly, but sought to banish such a terrible thought as quickly as possible. We then headed to the lagoon, close to our hotel, to join the locals for an outdoor film screening. It was a lovely setting for a film, and we were the only tourists there. This may or may not have something to do with the fact that the film was Horton Hears a Who, but we certainly felt local and (though I shall only say it quietly) did very much enjoy the film. We then headed to dinner (Italian again) and finished up the night at a outdoor bar with reasonably pleasant live music. A very pleasing last night.

We were again woken by an alarm – this time for the excitement of paddle-boarding. It’s a very popular water sport here and early on in the holiday I’d persuaded Layla that we should definitely give it a go. I think both of us had some qualms (not least because we both ended up having long complicated dreams – me about paddle-boarding and Layla about having won a competition to go on a commercial space flight). These qualms did not ease when we looked out the window, saw it had been raining and gazed up at the grey sky. However, we persisted, and walked round to the lagoon (where we’d watched the film the night before) to meet the very pleasant Tanya with paddleboards, together with a cheery girl (who turned out to live in DC and who we may try and make a friend). It began to rain relatively hard just as we began, and I could see Layla wanted to back out. However, I’m a beast and persuaded her to stick with it. And we were both so glad we did.

Paddleboarding entails standing on a board that looks a bit like a surfboard and then (as one might guess) paddling around. A recipe for falling in the water. Which I did twice. But it was really fun to make our way round the lagoon, learning how to do it (sort of). The wind whipped up after a while (fortunately the rain had ceased) which made it more fun / quite hard (which depends on your perspective!). It would of course be boastful to point out that Layla had to be towed by the instructor at one point, whilst I did not… We went under a bridge and saw the ocean (and then made a hasty retreat). All of this excitement did of course mean we were entirely justified in having pancakes and smoothies for breakfast in a nice looking café that we’d spotted the day before (after we’d checked out). In fact we lurked in the café, with our books, for a while (so long that we were then able to justify having lunch) before heading down to the shore for a final walk along the beach, soaking up the sun and paddling a little. On the beach we played our usual game for the last day of a holiday – where shall we go next. And so, typing this on the plane on the way home, I’m dreaming of our next adventure in Mexico. Or Suriname. Or Guyana.