In which Roz and Layla head to Carribean pleasures.

By Layla

It was with much delight that we stepped off the plane in San Juan, Puerto Rico, on Friday night. Roz had had a long week at work, and I’d been churning out job applications. It was chilly and wintery in Washington DC and neither of us could remember what it felt like to be a) warm, or b) on holiday. But the first breath of warm, tropical air and we were ready.

We checked in at the Hotel Casablanca, a disappointment compared to the reviews and money, and headed out, despite the late hour, to a very cool little beer bar on our street. It was bustling with locals, and we squeezed in to the bar and ordered the local beer, and a number of mohitos and a very large plate of cheese. Nothing says holiday like a large plate of cheese. We had a very jolly evening, despite the fact that a principal part of our discussion entailed Roz explaining to me why the Vatican really is a state. Nothing says holiday like a nerdy discussion. By the time we went to bed, we were already in the holiday mood.

Up reasonably early the next day (despite not having jetlag), we ate our cereal and stepped out into the sun, which immediately turned our unaccustomed skin pink. We headed for the water, and followed Lonely Planet’s recommended walking tour of San Juan. It’s a beautiful city – romantic and filled with cobblestones, sea views, Moorish watchtowers, and lots of charm. We walked along a pretty sea path, then up through the town, with a pause for Mimosas and lemonade at the poshest hotel in town, El Convento. And then to lunch, at the bizarrely vegetarian-friendly Café Berlin. It was delightful.

After lunch, we mused upon our options, decided to go to a nearby beach, and headed back to the hotel to get our swimming costumes (and change room, as they’d messed up our booking). Cue an hour of hassle, broken keys, irate voices, and eventual throwing hands up, jumping into a taxi, and heading for the beach. Alas, in this tropical paradise of perfect beaches, I’d managed to identify probably the dodgiest one on the island. It was full of locals rather than tourists, which was nice, but the sand was a murky brown, the sea a less-than-transparent blue, and the pebbles were jaggy underfoot. Undeterred, we leapt in and had an extremely cheery hour or so bobbing and frolicking in the water, before retrieving our clothes, hopping in a taxi, and returning to the hotel to change for the evening (and to locate a plan B that took us away from our rubbish hotel…).

We started the evening in a nice little street of outdoor bars, round the corner from our hotel, where we indulged in a couple of superlative mohitos, and a little tapas action… and then we progressed to Marmalade a restaurant described as San Juan’s best. It was beautiful, and how could anyone resist a five course tasting menu? Perhaps incongruously, it was possibly one of the best I’ve ever had. Innovative, delicate, delicious. Ah, I’m still dreaming of it…

And after that, we rolled out of the restaurant and into our hotel (across the street) for an early bedtime - we are still exhausted! Today: extricating ourselves from this hotel, and heading east to Fajardo…