Where Have You Been?!

Hi, friends,

Engagement Photo!
Courtesy of Malcolm Slight
www.imagesbymalcolm.com

I'm glad you're enjoying my travel diaries, and it's certainly a privilege (and fun) to share them with you. You've been reminding me it's been quite a while since I posted anything (and I have LOTS of great misadventures to blog). I think I've got a pretty good excuse: I've been kinda busy planning my lovely daughter's October wedding. You could say it's been a distraction. I toyed with the idea of blogging about that but decided against it for her sake. Oh, the stories I would tell, if only I thought I could get away with it...

Fear not! I plan to be back very soon. In the meantime, please continue enjoying my vintage posts and sending suggestions for exotic (or not) locations you'd like me to visit so you can read about all the bad planning, dicey situations, and not-so-great travel arrangements leading to my Adventures in Paradise. The whole earth is a paradise created for our enjoyment. Sometimes the beauty is readily apparent, and other times not so much. That's what makes travel an adventure!

'Til next time,
Chris

California Dreamin' - Morro Bay, Hearst Castle, and Beyond!

View of Morro Rock from the marina.
Photo by Chris. All rights reserved.

Morning came, and off we went to Morro Bay as we continued our drive up Highway 1. Thank you, Steve and Jessie and boys, for your welcoming hospitality. And the homemade bread was pretty tasty, too, Jessie!

Morro Bay is not a very big town, but its waterfront shops and restaurants and marina are all absolutely lovely. There's this big rock (Morro Rock) in the bay that's a major landmark...and also a power plant that's been closed down. There's kind of a love/hate relationship with that particular landmark, but there it still is, begging for a photo.

The power plant from the marina.
Photo by Chris. All rights reserved.

It was yet another spectacular day, with bright sunshine and calm breezes and balmy temperatures. We stopped for a latte at a little indoor/outdoor place right on the water. Again, the waitress gave Harry a hard time. Either they all think he's awfully cute, or they are going for the big tip. Either way, it makes him a happy camper. It's all good. Just for good measure, I happened to find a few tiny things to purchase. It seemed like a good idea at the time, and I hope I'll have occasion to wear the clothing at some point.

The Central California Coast
Photo by Chris. All rights reserved.

We made our way up Highway 1, stopping here and there to admire the sand and surf of the California coast, a different panorama appearing with every twist and turn. What an enjoyable drive! We walked along the water's edge wherever we felt like stopping. There was no agenda and no schedule. It was awesome.

Hearst Castle appears.
Photo by Chris. All rights reserved.

Suddenly, we saw Hearst Castle appear on a hilltop, floating over a majestic sweep of undulating countryside. The setting is magical and overlooks miles of coastline. Really, what could we? Of course we stopped for a tour. Without a reservation! I know!

Hearst Castle
Photo by Chris.
All rights reserved.

We toured the sumptuous upstairs suites and the expansive gardens and, of course, the swimming pools that everyone has seen in dozens of pictures already. Oh, my. My imagination ran wild. What must it have been like to be a guest of William Randolph Hearst for the weekend at this fanciful place, secluded on the coast, being flown in from Los Angeles on Mr. Hearst's plane and landing on the private airstrip and being chauffeured up the hill, the buildings appearing and disappearing and reappearing as the road curved to the right and the left and the right and the left, higher and higher, and closer and closer on approach? How many gowns and tennis outfits and swimsuits would be packed carefully into how many suitcases and bags? Would I arrive, only to find I'd left my shoes at home? Oh, the horror!

One of the guest cottages.
Photo by Chris.
All rights reserved.

And, because our daughter is soon to be married, I imagined what it would be like to reserve the gardens and terraces for a wedding. Which you can totally do, if you happen to have the considerable rental fee handy in your bank account. One of the docents regaled us with stories of parties past, which I won't share here (as it wouldn't be prudent), of the super wealthy and entitled. At any rate, the stories were entirely entertaining and delightful, and I'm sure the parties concerned wouldn't mind at all if I knew about how their guests were throwing up in the flower pots and falling into the swimming pools and behaving in a manner generally unacceptable to average people. But I digress.

If you happen to be driving up the coast and find yourself in the general vicinity of San Simeon, you really must stop at Hearst Castle. What a treat for the senses. The vistas are superb. The gardens are made for meandering. The rooms are luxuriously appointed. The library is stocked with all sorts of rare volumes. The pools are enticing, yet forbidden. Really, what could be more appealing? And though we were perfect guests, we were not invited to stay for a few days. Tragic! I'm sure you can imagine my disappointment; however, I managed to maintain a stiff upper lip as our shuttle returned to the visitor center.

See all those rocks on the beach? They are elephant seals.
Photo by Chris. All rights reserved.

Heading north on Highway 1 once again, we came upon a stretch of beach that was absolutely overrun by enormous elephant seals, sunning themselves and occasionally moving just enough to add a thin layer of sand. Perhaps it helps to avoid sunburn, I wondered? Amazing! We were glad we stopped.

And then we headed north again, past Big Sur and Carmel and Monterey and Seaside and Salinas and San Jose. We had dinner at a new Chinese restaurant in Milpitas that had the very best tofu I've ever tasted. Creamy. Light. Coated in just the right amount of sauce. When I complimented the chef to the waitperson, she just looked at me with a bemused expression on her face. The sort of look that makes you feel stupid for saying anything.

And then we were home again, having fully intended to spend more time on the coast, yet not realizing how quick the drive really is. Besides, when you find yourself within an hour or two of home, wouldn't you rather sleep in your own bed than toss and turn in a hotel room, punching the pillow to make it fit the contours of your neck and head? Of course you would.

California Dreamin' - Pacific Coast Highway to Los Osos

Breakfast at Paul's
Photo by Chris. All rights reserved.

Too soon, it was time to leave the OC (Orange County, California) and start the drive home. But first, Dave joined us for breakfast at Paul's Pantry, where the waitress was energetic and sassy and the food was hot and plentiful. I love a diner atmosphere in the morning. Looking out the window at the spectacular weather, palm trees, and flowers made me wish we were staying on for a few more days. Or years. I seem to feel that way about every place I visit, don't I? Our friends Dave and Reggie had been wonderful hosts and great company. It was hard to leave. It always seems to be. [Thanks again, Dave and Reggie. Looking forward to seeing you at our place soon!]

The coastline in Southern California looks so much
different than in Northern California!
Photo from moving vehicle (again) by Chris.
All rights reserved anyway.

We decided to drive up the coast rather than going back home the same way we had come. It had been many years since we'd been up the PCH (Pacific Coast Highway), Highway 1. What a beautiful drive it is. Blue skies, beaches, palm trees, surfers riding waves. Massive homes on the edges of cliffs, overlooking the panorama. I thought of scenes from films, with large gatherings of beautiful people dripping in diamonds and designer clothing, sipping cocktails on the pool terrace while the sun sets. Not something I'm likely to experience anytime soon, probably. But daydreams can be wonderful things.

Just because you can never see enough sunsets...
Photo by Chris. All rights reserved.

Beach Boys music played softly in the background of my thoughts as we passed Malibu, Ventura, Santa Barbara, Pismo Beach...and we realized it wouldn't take long to get to Los Osos, where our nephew and his family are happily ensconced. And so, on the spur of the moment, we decided to drop in on Stephen and Jessie and the boys, just to say, “Hello!” We had intended to stay at a hotel in San Luis Obispo or Morro Bay, but they wouldn't hear of it, even though they were preparing to leave for a weekend camping trip. Yes, we really do have that kind of family. Are we blessed, or what? Steve and Jessie are very environmentally minded, and Steve has built an addition to their home that's made of straw bales. It's an all-purpose room with study areas, couches, and the guest quarters. The thickness of the walls surprised me, as did the smooth stucco covering. The windows are set deep into the walls, so the windowsills act as shelves, with plenty of room for knick knacks or pictures. Jessie is working on smooth stone mosaics to cover the shelf surfaces. The room is pleasant and comfortable. I was proud and impressed at their skills.

The Green Flash forming.
Photo by Chris. All rights reserved.

We arrived just in time to rush up to the state park, leave our vehicles, and admire the beautiful sunset over the Pacific Ocean. As the sun dipped, we saw “The Green Flash!” Wow! Not just any green flash, either, but a huge one! It was the first time I'd ever seen this environmental phenomon happen, and how special to share it with Steve's little boys. All of us held our breaths for a moment. It was so unexpected and wonderful and thrilling.

Steve and Jessie at Sylvester's
Photo by Chris. All rights reserved.

What could we do after that but go to their favorite burger joint to celebrate? Sylvester's serves up a fantastic burger. If you don't like the Hearst Ranch beef, you can try the elk or buffalo or turkey or chicken or black bean or veggie or...well, just check out the menu on the link. They have a couple of locations, but the one in Los Osos is the original. There are lots of entertaining “customer birthday” photographs on the walls and ceiling. The restaurant is casual, and the staff is friendly. Los Osos seems like it would be a relaxed place to live. Well, once the city is all finished tearing up the whole place to put in the sewer system, anyway!

View of the sandspit, Morro Bay, from Los Osos
Photo by Chris. All rights reserved.

California Dreamin' - Touring the Midway

USS Midway
Photo by Chris.
All rights reserved.

The drive to San Diego was gorgeous. Spectacular sunshine. Blue ocean. Great conversation. Reggie had taken a day off from work to be with us, which was an unexpected and special treat.

As Dave drove south on the San Diego Freeway, we passed right through Camp Pendleton. The marines were apparently going to have some fun, as there were tanks racing along on the dirt roads and sandy dunes on both sides of the freeway. Camp Pendleton seemingly goes on for miles, and what a location! But I'm sure if you're stationed there, it isn't the paradise it appears to be, nestled as it is between the hills and the beach.

It was going to be a military kind of day. We were on our way to San Diego harbor to tour the USS Midway, one of the many aircraft carriers that are now museums. There's one by where we live in the San Francisco area, too, and there'll be more on that in a later post.

Watch your step!
Photo by Chris.
All rights reserved.

The Midway museum is impressive, with excellent renovation of not only the ship but also the airplanes. There's a self-tour that we took, and you have earphones so you can hear a presentation at each numbered station. I found it all very interesting, even fascinating. When you see a carrier pull into port, deck lined with sailors wearing their dixie cups at a jaunty angle, you don't realize the conditions they work under. The complete lack of privacy. The noise. The danger, too, and not just from the enemy. The work itself presents all kinds of opportunities for lost limbs, eyes, and heads. Be sure to duck when going down the “ladders,” or you'll quickly discover that sailors don't have headaches only because they were in port the night before!

Don't pay any attention to the recommendation to devote two or three hours to the tour. That's enough if you race through, don't read any of the signs, don't pause to imagine at any of the stations, don't have conversations with docents, don't try the flight simulators (ever wonder what it's like to land on a carrier?), don't stop at the gedunk (snack bar), and don't go back to take one more picture. It's a better idea to devote the entire afternoon, if not the whole day.

Cozy!
Photo by Chris.
All rights reserved.

Here are there, there are mannequins (some of them animatronic) in position at work stations. This gives the sometimes eerie illusion that you are not alone. Don't think about it too much. The situation rooms are designed to help you experience what it would be like to attend a briefing or debriefing. Those of you who have experienced real life on a carrier might not want to be reminded of it too realistically, but it helped me to understand what daily life in intense situations might have been like for the men on the Midway and other ships like it. Thank you for your service, guys.

Much better.
Photo by Chris. All rights reserved.

The enlisted men's bunk rooms were a revelation. One can only imagine the steamy stench emanating from the sardine-like quarters occupied by young guys who might be too tired or busy after a hard shift doing dirty work to shower on a regular basis. Okay, don't think about that too much, either. The officer's quarters were much roomier and nicer, but it isn't as though there was any space to waste there, either. I am thinking it would be better to be an officer than to be an enlisted person.

The galley (kitchen) was impressive. Reggie and I were both intrigued by all the equipment, the ovens, the massive mixers. Food (such as it is) for thousands of people is prepared in the galley on a fairly constant basis each and every day. I am thinking it might be fun to tour the galley on the next cruise ship I board. Anyway, I had visions of peeling, slicing, and dicing bushels of potatoes and carrots and onions. Somehow, that made the job much less glamorous to me. But perhaps it's your cup of tea. More power to you.

Not the enlisted silverware.
Photo by Chris. All rights reserved.

The mess hall (dining room) for the enlisted personnel was like a school cafeteria and very utilitarian, whereas the mess hall for the officers was like a restaurant. Not a five-star restaurant, mind you. But maybe so by comparison. There's a beautifully appointed table-for-one in the corner. It's the MIA/POW table. Sobering.

Harry and I, visiting the brig...
Photo by Dave. All rights reserved.

We visited the brig and the laundry (That must have been a hot, unpleasant job) and the sick bay and the surgical center and the dental clinic...all the things that make the carrier like a city on the high seas, the center of the group of ships headed off on a mission somewhere far away from home. And all of that was before we went out on the flight deck and up into the tower. Be sure to wear comfortable walking shoes when you go. It's quite an experience, and I recommend it. We decided to visit the Hornet upon our return to the Bay Area.

"Hotel del"
Photo by Chris. All rights reserved.

One of the things I'd never done while in San Diego was to go to Coronado. I know it's hard to believe, but there you have it. Specifically, I wanted to see the Hotel del Coronado, that storied place on the beach that oozes romance and history and elegance. Instantly recognizable, it is a place where I'd like to spend a long, luxurious weekend someday. Hint. The tide was low, the beach was wide, the waves were curling, the sun was setting over the Pacific. It was a moment to fill the senses. Breathe in. Breathe out slowly. Feel the stress leaving your body. Ahhhh....

The four of us. What a great day!
Photo by the docent. All rights reserved.

California Dreamin' - Sailing at Dana Point

Sailing!
Photo by Chris.
All rights reserved.

Morning came much too early, as always, but we'd had a great night's sleep at Moore Manor. Bear with me as I mention that the guest room was all decked out like the best hotels and decorated beautifully: comfortable bed, soft sheets, cushy pillows, quilts handmade lovingly by Reggie, restful colors, and a flat screen television! I made a few mental notes about our guest room at home...

At Harbor House Cafe, Dana Point
Photo by Chris. All rights reserved.

Reggie had to go to the office, but she'd left the coffee all brewed and ready for us as we waited briefly for Dave to return from his top-secret work at the airport. We were going to go sailing!

But, first, we went out to enjoy a plentiful and delicious breakfast at the Harbor House Cafe on the PCH (Pacific Coast Highway) in Dana Point. The young waitress was sassy and gave the guys a hard time. She got our day off to a good start and totally deserved the large tip (For those of you who are not familiar with American restaurants, gratuities are generally not included. The people on the wait staff depend on those gratuities, though, as their wages are very low. Please be especially generous [20%] when the service has been excellent). The decor of classic movie posters and photos gave us lots to look at, admire, and discuss as we ate. A picture is indeed worth 1,000 words. It also can bring back memories and emotions. Youthful ones, in this case. We were in vacation mode.

Marina at Dana Point Harbor
Photo by Chris. All rights reserved.

I don't have a lot of experience with this sort of thing, but the marina at Dana Point Harbor seemed awfully big to me. It's a good thing Dave knew where his sailboat was. There was a variety of shops and restaurants to explore around the marina, and people were pushing baby strollers and walking their dogs and enjoying the good life.

Captain Dave
Photo by Chris.
All rights reserved.

Dave, being the good and conscientious skipper that he is, gave us "the safety talk" before we left the harbor. Always hang onto something stationery. Watch the boom so you don't hit your head or get knocked overboard. When walking on the sides to go to the bow and the boat is leaning one way or the other, maneuver in such a way as to fall onto the boat rather than overboard if you should slip. No problem there. I had no desire to fall overboard!

The view off the stern
Photo by Chris. All rights reserved.

It was a spectacular day offshore, with bright sunshine and just the right amount of wind. There were other boats out around us, but not very many and not very close. It was a weekday, after all.

An excursion charter was nearby, indicating the possible presence of marine mammals. It was whale-watching season, so there was a possibility of seeing some.

Playful dolphin off Dana Point
Photo by Chris.
All rights reserved.

Suddenly, a pod of dolphins was frolicking all around us. I was excited as I made my way to the bow (without slipping or falling overboard) to take photos. Such beautiful, playful, smart creatures! They swam along next to us and ahead of us for a long time, crossing back and forth, diving, jumping. What thrilling fun! I was mesmerized.

Too soon, it was time to head back to shore. Being out on the water had been so peaceful and relaxing. There's just something about the fresh, crisp, salt air, and the sound of the ocean rushing by as the boat slices through it, and the sails snapping in the wind, and the creaking of the boat, and the otherwise utter quiet. Did we really have to stop? But the sun was beginning to dip in the west, and it takes time after you're back at the marina, too, to stow everything and secure the boat.

Bird in flight...extra points,
right, Bob?
Photo by Chris. All rights reserved.

Granted, I've only been sailing a handful of times. But I completely understand why people want to live on their sailboats, going from port to port and country to country, experiencing a wonderful variety of cultures and food and people. It would be an adventurous way to live.

Thank you, Dave, for allowing us to share the adventure with you, just for a little while. Don't be surprised if we come back for more!

Dana Point
Photo by Chris. All rights reserved.

Harry thought this one would be nice. It was almost affordable.
Not.
Photo by Chris. All rights reserved.

California Dreamin' - Driving to the OC

Lush vegetation in the farmlands of the San Joaquin valley.
Photo by Chris. All rights reserved.

Harry and I have been threatening to visit our friend Dave and his lovely wife, Reggie, in Southern California for years. We decided to just do it!

We left early, early in the morning from our Bay Area home in order to avoid the rush hour traffic, which we mostly did. Breakfast was "on the run" at McDonald's. I know.

San Joaquin Valley, California
Photo by Chris. All rights reserved.

We didn't realize how many years it had been since we'd driven down the I-5 corridor southward. It used to be a barren wasteland, but now there are orchards and fields and things to look at. So, the drive wasn't nearly as tedious as we remembered.

As it turned out, this price was not
the highest we would pay.
Photo by Chris. All rights reserved.

Gas was pretty expensive, though. We figured it was the timing of our trip, because it had gone up about 50 cents a gallon since the previous week.

"Dust bowl" country.
Photo by Chris.
All rights reserved.

Around Kettleman City, we started seeing signs that said something like, "This dust bowl brought to you by Congress." (Click on the link to see a news video about the situation.) Apparently, the farmers are unable to access the water they need for the crops, to the land is lying fallow. When the wind blows, the dust billows, causing low visibility and major pile-ups on the road. Happily, this particular day was spectacular. But I felt sad for the farmers who have lost their crops and their livelihood. It isn't like you can just go get a job somewhere. Farming is risky business.

Yes, please!
Photo by Chris.

Speaking of Kettleman City, the last time we drove by there on our way back up from Los Angeles, there was a bright flash of blue light in the sky, and then traffic absolutely stopped for hours. A small plane had hit the electric lines and crashed. Sometimes when you're driving by a place, memories come rushing back. They aren't always pleasant ones.

We gassed up, had lunch at In-N-Out Burger, and headed on down. There was very little traffic. It was a lovely and relaxing drive. So far.

Citrus groves with snowy mountain backdrops.
Much prettier in person!
Photo by Chris. All rights reserved.

Suddenly, we were at the Grapevine and heading over the pass to the Los Angeles basin. It always surprises me that, this time of year, there's snow in the mountains down there. I think of the area as balmy and warm, full of sunshine and beaches and surfers.

You might be wondering why most of the pictures I'm posting are blurry in the front and just fine in the distance. They're being taken from a vehicle that's moving at freeway speeds. Harry offered to stop, but if you stop every time you want to take a picture during a 450-or-so-mile drive, you'll never get to your destination.

Six Flags Magic Mountain. I used to love these rides!
Photo by Chris. 

As we drove by Six Flags Magic Mountain (amusement park), I thought to myself, "Hooray! We're almost there!" But, of course, we weren't. I always think that when I get to Magic Mountain, and then it's always at least another hour to where I'm actually going. We hadn't yet hit Los Angeles traffic, and we thought we would be lucky and miss it entirely. There we go, thinking again! But it only bottlenecked for a short distance, and then traffic cleared again. It was a good day to drive to LA.

When we arrived at Dave and Reggie's absolutely gorgeous home in Orange County in the middle of the afternoon, Dave was already busy cooking the most delicious ribs for us, and we sat at the bar under the pergola in the back yard, catching up and talking about old times. Friendship is a great gift.

Anniversary Cruise! Puerto Rico, Day 4

Seven Seas Beach, Fajardo PR. It was low tide.
Photo by Chris. All rights reserved.

Suddenly, it was our last full day in Puerto Rico. Vacations go by much too quickly! So, we packed up our beach gear and headed to Seven Seas Beach in Fajardo. We lived in Fajardo for a couple of years and never went to Seven Seas. Who knew?! It's a beautiful beach, but there was quite a bit of trash in the water. The wind must have blown it in on a breezy day? This particular day, however, was absolutely perfect.

Parking was easy, and there weren't very many people on the beach. Nice! We swam all the way out to the buoys [“Caution! Do not swim past this point!”] in search of tropical fishies, and we did find a big starfish and some other sea life swimming here and there. But mostly we found sea grass. Sand-covered sea grass. Where was the fabulous reef action we had read about, we wondered? And then we discovered it. Right next to the sandy beach in the shallow water! We laughed about that, for sure. We thought it would be farther offshore.

Seven Seas Beach, Fajardo PR
Photo by Chris. All rights reserved.

There was an area next to the boat launch [hence the caution against swimming past the buoys] that was a teeming fish nursery, a bonanza of baby fishies of all colors and formations and conformations. We moved down the beach and saw larger fish darting here and there, and all of us saw a barracuda...except me, but that's okay! I was too busy looking at the pretty colors, I guess. The water clarity was not great. Bob said he would rate it as two out of ten. Could have just been that day, though, as so many things (including the weather) can affect water clarity. I didn't know the difference and was only barely able to imagine the fabulous clarity he described in other places.

Bob and I took a walk down the beach to find some seashells for his friends who especially appreciate such souvenirs. We found some nice ones for them, and I hope they liked them.

Fishing village - Las Croabas PR
Photo by chris. All rights reserved.

The afternoon was winding down. We went for one more snorkel, did our best to get the sand off with the trickle of water at the showers outside the restrooms, and got ready to go on a kayak trip to Laguna Grande, the large bioluminescent lagoon. Who knew all this great stuff was in Fajardo? I wonder what else we missed while living here? I guess we were too busy working. There are probably a lot of things back home that I haven't seen and done, too. Take advantage of sights and activities right where you are.

A smiling, helpful, friendly crew member getting ready to
unload the kayaks. Pure Adventure rocks!
Photo by Chris. All rights reserved.

We had a snack at the docks in Las Croabas and had the great good luck of having been able to follow the kayak truck when we left the beach parking lot. So, we had no trouble at all finding our tour company, Pure Adventure. I'd never kayaked before, so it was an adventure going through the mangrove forest at dusk, especially while battling the current. We went sideways and backwards and all kinds of crazy things! The lagoon was so much fun. You dip your oar in, and it lights up with the organisms in the water. The resulting cascade of water when you lift your oar out of the water glows and lights up. You put your hand in the water and swish it around, and the water lights up. Apparently, Laguna Grande is even better than Mosquito Bay, Vieques. But I haven't been there (yet) and can't say for sure.

And it was time to go back through the mangrove forest. This time, though, it was pitch dark. We tried to follow the tiny, flashing light of the kayak ahead of us. Happily, the current was with us instead of against us this time, but the lead kayak kept going sideways into the mangroves. It was exciting and a little nerve making. I imagined snakes hanging down from the trees, their heads swaying this way and that, waiting to drop onto us in the kayak. I wasn't too sure we were going to make it back to the docks. Harry's seat had decided to refuse to keep him in a sitting position, so we were doing our very best to keep our kayak headed in the right direction at an even pace. Remember: It was pitch dark. We couldn't see anything but the very small beacon on the next kayak. Oh, wow! On, wow! What an adventure! But we made it. We only hit one object, an anchored rowboat. We didn't see it at all until we bumped into it, as we were blinded by the bright blue light onshore. Once your eyes have adapted to the darkness, even dim lights are blinding.

And then it was back to the hotel to pack, too soon. Just like the cruise, which takes a couple of days to settle into and then is suddenly over, these few days on the Isle of Enchantment have flown by. Just when you figure out where things are and the way things are done, and you're really enjoying yourself, it's time to go home.

On the other hand, we never found ourselves with more time than activities to fill it. Better to leave wanting more than to wish you could leave early. Which, come to think of it, is highly unlikely.

And just like that, it's over.
Photo by Chris. All rights reserved.

Note: Driving in Puerto Rico is not for sissies or people who get excited and upset. Thanks for driving, Bob. I think I would still be sitting at an intersection somewhere, waiting for folks to stop running red lights. Yikes!

Another note: When going to public beaches and such places here where the restrooms are likely to be questionable, you might want to consider having some toilet paper, wipes, and hand sanitizer with you instead of back at the hotel. And here, I think of my friend Cathy with great fondness. Cathy would have been totally prepared. She is Wonder Woman. She thinks of everything. I have a great respect for that. I do well to just think of the next thing. Unfortunately, I generally think of the next thing while I'm on my way to it rather than ahead of time. We are all gifted in different ways.

Anniversary Cruise! Puerto Rico, Day 3

If you're looking for a place to stay that's convenient, the Hampton Inn (where we stayed) in Isla Verde (Carolina) is more than adequate. It offers all the amenities we need. Clean, comfortable, spacious rooms. A breakfast that is plentiful and delicious. An inviting swimming pool with a swim-up bar and outdoor grill restaurant, with plenty of thickly padded lounge chairs if you're going to be swimming and sunning yourself. An exercise room. A laundry room. An office room. And probably lots of other meeting rooms and things we didn't care about at all. The folks at the front desk were helpful, knowledgeable, and friendly.

It's close to the airport but well sound-proofed, and it's just a couple of short blocks from the beautiful Isla Verde Beach. Isla Verde used to be kind of a “second cousin” to the Condado Strip. Nice and all, but one step removed. Funny how things change and evolve over the years. As mentioned in the Day 2 post, the neighborhood includes the El San Juan Hotel. It also includes the Ritz Carlton and a number of other low-rent places.

The lagoon from high up!
Photo by Chris. All rights reserved.

So, in the morning, Bob and Karen arrived to pick us up and suggested that we spend the day at their place, the Conrad Condado. There's a lagoon there for snorkeling practice, a salt water pool, a swim-up bar, and all the goodies. It was an offer we couldn't refuse!

The Conrad was decorated very retro tropical. It felt like Havana in a weird sort of way. Well, not that I've been to Havana [sure would like to, though], but it was how I imagined it to be. The furniture was retro ultra-modern, '60s or '70s looking, and so were the lamps. The lobby offered aqua and red and blue lighting accents. Bob and Karen said they thought it was kind of over the top kitschy, but I thought it was awesome. Maybe because it had a back in time quality and reminded me of the décor way back when, but it was new. It made me feel happy and lighthearted and relaxed. Perhaps that's what the hotel had in mind.

The pink building said "Miami." Fitting, no?

Bob and Karen's room was on the 10^th floor and afforded an admirable panoramic view of the city. We all changed into our bathing suits and headed down to the poolside area, where the view was of the Old San Juan walls on the other side of the lagoon. Waves were crashing against the barrier rocks. It was gorgeous.

We slathered on the SPF55. Whatever you do, don't forget the sunblock. You don't want to ruin your vacation with a painful burn. We donned our snorkel gear and headed to the beach by the lagoon, where Bob gave me some snorkeling tips. It would be the first time I had snorkeled in almost 40 years, the last time having also been in Puerto Rico. It seemed poetic, somehow.

The waves outside the lagoon crashed on the rocks.
Awesome.
Photo by Chris. All rights reserved.

I ventured into the water accompanied by Karen, and Bob went out with Harry. Was I going to gag on the mouthpiece? Would my mask leak? Would I move my fins like crazy, yet go backwards? Would I panic and sink to the depths of the lagoon (Okay, it wasn't that deep. Still...)? These were actual, real concerns that tried to interfere with my exhilaration at finally doing this again. No worries! Karen said I took to it like a duck to water, like I'd been doing it for years. I'm not the world's strongest swimmer, but I didn't even need to use the floatie I had borrowed. It was no problem at all, and I loved it. The water wasn't very clear (Bob talked of Rarotonga. We talked of Bonaire...), but there were enough beautiful, colorful fish and interesting sea creatures to keep me out there exploring. Apparently, there was an unfortunate oil spill in the '90s that knocked out the reef (very sad indeed), and they have put little “condos” out there for the fish to hide in. It's kind of cute. We saw blue fish with yellow fins, yellow and black striped fish, little neon looking fish, silver striped long fish, disc-shaped ones, etc. It was tons of fun. The sun kissed me a little in spite of the sunblock, but not so much as to cause pain.

So, we snorkeled around noon, took a break, gleefully slid down the water slide like a bunch of kids, had a pina colada, had a rest on the beach in the shade, then went snorkeling for another hour and a half or two. Nobody could get me out of the water. I was in love.

We showered and washed the sand out of our hair, and then we went walking down Condado in search of some FOOD. It's amazing how hungry I was. I could have eaten a horse.

On our way to dinner, Harry decided he'd like to try a ride
on this nifty thing. But it was a police vehicle. Oops!
Photo by Chris. All rights reserved.

We decided on Bueno Ayres, an Argentinian steak house. Harry's steak and my chicken were both delicious, plentiful, and perfectly prepared, with the edge going to Harry's steak. But only because steak trumps chicken! We also had fried sweet plantain (surprise!), which was yummy. The waiter said it was the second-best in all of Puerto Rico. We thought that was kind of a weird thing for him to say, and then we realized that, of course, his own mother makes the first-best! For dessert, we enjoyed a light and flavorful cheese flan. The sangria was outstanding, and the coffee was absolutely spectacular.

It was a great day for all of us. We felt as if we were vacationing. Because we were!

Anniversary Cruise! Puerto Rico, Day 2

After a more than adequate and actually pretty delicious and plentiful breakfast at “our” place, we were collected by Bob and Karen (Thank you, Bob, for doing the driving. And thank you, too, Karen, for being you. Always gracious. Always fabulous). We loaded up the snorkel gear “just in case” and headed eastward on PR-3. [Eastward, ho!... Never mind.]

Bromeliads. Lots of them.
Photo by Chris. All rights reserved.

Our first stop was El Yunque, the rain forest. What a tropical treat! Birds. Waterfalls. Vines Tarzan could use for locomoting. Bromeliads galore. Rain. Well, of course there was rain. They don't call it a rain forest for nothing.

The weather was surprisingly cool and comfortable. By cool, I don't mean as in San Francisco. I mean cool for the tropics, which is an entirely different thing. You won't need a sweatshirt. And the humidity felt okay, too. But perhaps I was comparing it to Dominica and Grenada [see previous posts].

Naturally, it's generally cooler at El Yunque, but it was also cooler than I expected in Fajardo, where we used to live when my husband was stationed at Roosevelt Roads. We drove up one street and down the other looking for our former abode. We did find the subdivision (Baralt), and we found the right street. The exact house (there were actually two of them), we can't be sure of, but it'll do The streets weren't signed very well, and the houses weren't necessarily numbered. So, we went by feel. Man! The homes were so close together, they must have built houses between the houses or something. And the neighborhood was a little sketchy. Perhaps it wasn't the greatest back then, either, but I guess we didn't notice. Memory is a funny thing. Strange how “off” it can be. It was a bittersweet experience.

A couple of the pools at the El Con.
Photo by Chris. All rights reserved.

Next, we drove up to the El Conquistador. It was considered luxurious when I worked there many years ago, but that was nothing compared to what I saw today. Wow! Huge. Spread out. The tennis courts, golf courses, and swimming pools had multiplied. If you stayed at the El Con on your vacation, you would not have to venture off the grounds. But you really should.

Oh, the swankness.
Photo by Chris.
All rights reserved.

I took a deep breath and made my way to the reception desk, where I was greeted very cordially by a businesslike yet friendly young lady. That gave me the courage to explain our situation. That is, I was a former employee, many years ago. My husband and I had come from California to revisit our old haunts, and would they give us a tour? Well, why not? You can't blame a girl for trying. I held my breath. Almost instantly, a young man appeared. Our private tour guide was accommodating and solicitous and proud to show us around. What a treat! I felt like a Very Important Person. [Back in the day, when a VIP arrived at the hotel, we would deliver flowers, a fruit basket, and/or a bottle of Piper-Heidsieck to the room. Unlike the bell boys, the “girls” from the Activity Desk who delivered those never seemed to get tips, even though we made the same minimum wage as the guys. Yes, it was irritating. But we did get to go to the welcome party, the coconut bash, and the farewell party. So, all was not lost.]

The view from the restaurant.
Photo by Chris. All rights reserved.

We rode the funicular to the bottom level (from the top of the cliff to the water's edge, by the marina, water park, and classy condos), where we had lunch at the dockside restaurant/bar. Delicious, and not outrageous at all. We were pleasantly surprised. The weather was beautiful, and we relaxed and enjoyed the gorgeous, restful environment.

Old haunts.
Photo by Chris. All rights reserved.

After lunch, we made our way back up to the main hotel parking lot, found our car, and drove out to Ceiba in search of NAS Roosevelt Roads. It wasn't hard to find. We'd been told the base was closed down and privatized, but that is apparently not entirely so. The guard would not let us pass through, because neither Harry nor Bob had identification indicating they were retired military (That is to say, retired from a life in military service, rather than having simply served in the military for four years). I couldn't believe it, and Harry was so disappointed. I may have cried. Harry may have seemed despondent. We explained how far we had come, how many years it had been, and how we had driven all the way to this part of the island for the express purpose of showing my husband's brother the areas where he had worked when stationed here during the Vietnam War. It was our anniversary trip. Please? And the guard did relent, but only barely. He looked at his watch and told us it would take exactly ½ hour to get to the marina and back if we didn't veer off the main road. He told us we had better be back in exactly ½ hour, or the military police would come looking for us. Military police? On a closed base?

We drove through the “downtown” area where the buildings showed signs of having seen activity long, long ago. It was kind of sad, really, and I remembered the hustle and bustle of the old days, when we were young and came on base to go to the movies (25 cents) or get a Denver Omelette at the diner. We were not allowed near the airfield, so we couldn't see the building where Harry had worked. Perhaps it is in the process of being converted to private use. That would explain the concrete roadblocks, right?

We were very, very good and didn't stray from permissible areas. Not even for a moment. We were grateful to have been allowed through the gate, and we weren't taking any chances. So, there were no misadventures to report. Yet.

Luquillo Beach
Photo by Chris.
All rights reserved.

It was close to 6 p.m. as we headed back towards San Juan, but we decided to stop at Luquillo Beach anyway. It's one of those coconut-tree-lined affairs with a long, long stretch of sandy beach. We remembered it fondly from our Navy days, when we had friends who lived in the town. On days off, we often went to Luquillo Beach to hang out and swim.

Luquillo Beach (a small part of it)
after yesterday's storm.
Photo by Chris. All rights reserved.

On this particular day, the beach wasn't nearly as pristine as we remembered. Then again, it had been raining quite a bit, so there was lots of run-off, and the surf was stronger than usual, stirring things up. The little food kiosks were still there, lining the entrance to the beach area, selling food and drinks and souvenirs, looking somewhat less enticing than they had in days gone by. And then there was the mangy-mutt, wet dog that hounded us up and down the beach, biting at my white gauze skirt and made a fabulous impression on all of us, especially Karen. Ah, the memories we were making!

Sunset at Luquillo Beach.
Photo by Chris. All rights reserved.

Though it wasn't late, we were all very tired by the time we got back to “our” place, so Bob and Karen dropped us off and went back to the Conrad to get some rest. Once again, I regretted that we hadn't had an opportunity to snorkel. It is what they enjoy most, and I was grateful for their sacrifice of their own desires in order to please Harry and me. And I was determined to make sure some snorkeling got done, one way or another!

The El San Juan is across the street from the Hampton Inn, so Harry and I walked on over to see what it looked like. Back in the day, it was a beautiful “sister” hotel to the El Con. Again, wow! It has grown up, too, and I felt out of place among the city ladies who were all dressed up for the evening. So, we enjoyed a gourmet meal at Wendy's. And then we went back to the Hampton Inn and went to bed.