Dominican Rebublic

We made it!  The reputedly ferocious Mona Passage was a puddy tat:  we motored for 13 hours until we had sufficient wind to sail.  Over the 46 hour passage, the wind kicked up to 20 knots, gusting to 25 on the North Coast of the Dominican Republic.  Our new friend Charlie (who apologized for this later) had advised that the entrance to the Ocean World Marina was easy for a nocturnal landing, yet we found it quite a challenge when entering at 4 am.  There were no lights.  There was a green channel buoy on  shore at the back of a decorative pond-like area:  good thing we did not use it for navigating the non-existent channel!  This was placed like a mythical siren, luring boaters to their decidedly un-sexy death!  

The narrow entrance channel with surf breaking over reefs to starboard, 

and a nearly invisible, short breakwater extension.  The green day buoy

was reflective, but not lit and flashing.  You know what they say about

never entering an unknown harbour at night!  To top it off, there is a 

pile of rocks at the end of the fuel dock.  Volver is lucky her keel is intact.

The first mate was up on the bow with a giant spotlight yelling, "turn around, there are no boats here, you are driving into a hotel!" when we saw the Fuel Dock.  Happy Chaos was there and they had told us they would leave their radio on, and a good thing, too, for we swung in behind them onto a concrete dock that was about 4 foot higher than Volver's deck, so there was no chance of being able to swing ourselves up that high to tie off a dock line.   Saved by the Happy people, again!  They came in, many hours ahead of us but also in the dark, with howling 28 knot winds blowing them onto the fuel dock and were also quite disenchanted with the harbour entrance, but had help from some fisherman on the fuel dock to get them tied off.  

The surf was breaking over this breakwater!

Dominican Republic was a whirlwind.  We stayed 2 nights and three days and did a final provision for the Bahamas, where some of the 1000s of islands are visited only twice a month by the mailboat.  The mailboat also brings supplies, which are rumoured to be few in number and expensive.  Our boat has never been so full of canned foods! 

 If you are thinking of staying at the Ocean World Marina, there are a few things to know.  Firstly, it is true that the marina staff are very helpful when it comes to helping you navigate Customs, Immigration, Drug enforcement, and Navy officials, all of whom are very interested in your visit, to every port in the DR.  You are only officially able to depart between 0800 and 1700, but you can sometimes (randomly?) get permission to leave outside of these hours:  you must pay overtime to the many officials for this privilege, and marina staff can not tell you how much this will cost.  Some people had difficulty being granted permission and others less so.  Given that many boaters are simply stopping here in transit while passaging to friendlier countries, it is important to them to have the flexibility to leave at will, to at least try to stage their arrival time in the unknown harbour for the daylight hours.  The navy is on site 24 hours.  After they give your dispatch papers, they stay and watch that you leave immediately, even though their paperwork is good for 24 hours.

Secondly, the marina water is not safe for drinking despite the advertising "certified municipal water."  We found this out by accident minutes before filling up our tanks. The Dominican people do not drink their city water.   Thirdly, although it is billed as free for marina guests, the marine adventure park is merely discounted and is still fairly pricey.  Fourthly, the free shuttle to the Tropical Supermercado takes you to a store where the shelves are half empty (for example, the sole cheese offerings were kraft singles and one french cheese tray) and the meat is scary looking.  It is unfortunate that the marina staff do not share the information one needs to make decisions.  There is a full service supermarket/department store, "the Sirenas" a short taxi ride away where you can buy the world (even burata cheese!) for a low price.   We have been searching since Martinique for a rubber sealant ring for our expresso pot and surprisingly had success there!   Finally, the docks are not 1.5 feet high as the guidebook says, so tie your fenders up high.  

We did the usual marina activities:  boat washing, laundry, pool lounging (though not enough/ much of this), and the first mate found someone to don scuba gear and scrape the barnacles off the boat bottom, sail drive, and prop.  We note the boat is now clearly faster under power, and our wind instrument shows both true and apparent wind speeds, which it has not done for months.  Must have been some algae or barnacle growth impeding its' functioning.  

Heading off on the 200 nm passage to Mayaguana island, we left at 6 pm, not wanting to hassle with the DR port authorities.   We experienced the forecasted brisk breezes of 25 knots, direction of 120 degrees, until 4 am.   The swell was generous, probably the 6-8 feet forecast, and at the beam, so the boat was rolly enough that sleep was not so good that first night.  Volver handled well with double reefed mainsail alone, comfortably making 7 knots of boat speed.   The daytime was pleasant, with lighter air of 15 knots and slower boat speed.  There was fishing.  We won't talk about the wahoo, whose teeth we could see, and whose flesh we could almost smell simmering in butter and garlic, that got away.   We hope to improve the landing on the boat part of this activity.  

During the second night of our passage, just as soon as the first mate sent the captain off for his nap, the wind picked up to 20 plus knots while we had full sails up.  It was thrilling, the boat was moving along at 8.4 knots, but we had a preventer to keep the boom from gybing on the aft winch, so the first mate was running up to the foreward winch to trim the mainsail sheet, then back aft to the jib sheet and the helm, and this is not a sustainable night time manoever!  So the captain kindly came up and we reefed for the night.  We usually do this prophylactically for the solo night watches, but since it was such a calm, light air day, we had not done so.  

Another noctunal arrival saw us with the hook down by 0330.  We stopped at Start point,  a roadstead anchorage, which is basically an exposed stop outside an island in the ocean.  At this anchorage, the depth goes from 2000 feet to 20 feet in a distance of about 1/4 n.m.  Stop quickly before you hit the beach!   It was rolly, but safe for 4 hours of sleep until the sun was up high enough for us to enter the unmarked anchorage of Abraham's Bay, which is a reef protected anchorage, completely exposed to the ocean winds.  The Bahamas islands are giant sandbars, and the anchorages are studded with reefs and coral heads.  Navigation is tricky, and requires someone to be standing watch on the bow at all times.  They are also much more affected by storms that affect the eastern seaboard than the more southern Caribbean islands.  The storms are supposed to abate by mid-April, but this winter has been exceptional, so there is still a need to keep a very close eye on the weather.  

Mayaguana island is the eastern most point of the Bahamas, population 400.  The 9 foot deep anchorage is a very long dinghy ride from town.  We made the trip, did customs, and found the Bahamas Telephone Co. immediately beside the immigration building.   An out of date internet source had advised that one can only purchase a Batelco SIM card on one of three large Bahamian islands, and the first mate and capt'n spent our last several hours in the DR panicking, as we were trying to figure out a communication strategy.  Owning 7 other SIM cards, we were trying to figure out how to activate just one of them to use for roaming, b/c the US SIM card we bought does not roam in the Bahamas.  This panic and frustration was for naught (most is, yes?):  the nice lady in Batelco sold us two months of data (it was on sale!), and a pay as you go phone option.   Joy:  we have access to the weather forecast!  Communication has definitely been one of the biggest complications of our trip thus far.  We are still tied to the Happy Hour bar/resto for WiFi for the blog, as neither computer has functioning bluetooth; hence, we can not tether the phone data and use it.  Happily, the Happy Hour gets you out meeting people.  

April 24 Update:  Volver waited patiently for 5 days for a front to pass.   We could have travelled a short distance the day after arrival, but our next anchorage would have been very exposed to the high wind and waves that were predicted.  Despite Volver and crew having been on the move and very busy for weeks, we easily tired of this amount of resting.   Sean, Evan, and the captain took the dinghy over to fish the reef but found it was so choppy they were getting swamped and gave up on bringing grouper home for dinner.  Lobster is unfortunately out of season.   We are still hoping to hone our fishing skills!

The weather acted as we had read about, but never experienced, in our travels through the Virgin Islands, windwards/leewards.  After a front passes, the winds typically drop and change direction from east/southeast to north/northwest.  Bruce Van Sant, author of the "Gentleman's Guide to the Thornless Path to Windward" implores sailors (because "gentleman never sail to windward," except when they are going that way of course!) to use this time in the lull of the storm to sail east.  We did the exact opposite.  Being bored silly, we decided not to wait for the resumption of the trade winds, and we motored to windward:  all the way to Georgetown, where we are now sitting and enjoying the sunrise.   

The ride was reasonably uneventful.  We left at 4 pm.   Departure times are marked by a tremendous degree of preliminary mulling about and calculating to predict arrival times coinciding with daylight, preferably with full sun overhead:   for example, if we go 6 knots, we'll arrive at harbour at 9 am.  But one can not control the winds and seas, despite years of practice trying.  The first night, there were lightning storms in the leeward horizon.  These were not in the weather forecast.  As Charles pointed out on our passage from the states: "this is my future (the windward direction), "and this is my past" (the leeward direction); keeping this in mind, the lightning was only a little scary.  Mr. Moon did not come out until 0130, so the starry sky was textbook.  

We had a companion for the entire first night's journey.  Migration is a tiresome thing, and this handsome fellow came along, squawking both his arrival greeting, and again at his sunrise departure.  

"No Birdie-Num-Nums for you, in case you have to ..."

Capt'n had a conversation with him, inviting him to enjoy our hospitality as long as he understood that the downstairs was off limits.  Our hitchhiker was respectful.  By her second watch with him, our feathered friend had moved back to enjoy the two hours with the first mate from the comfort of the dinghy.   Their conversation was about creature comforts, and he mostly complied.  He agreed to having his photo taken, despite the trouble of the flash.

The first mate was struck by a migraine the second day and the capt'n kindly toiled alone, relentlessly fussing with the sheets to keep wind in the sails.  Like a vampiress, the first mate arose in the dark to take her night watches.  They are much more pleasant with music, which does not drain our engine charged batteries under power.   We imagine the 2 day passages are similar to the proverbial expression about childbirth:  once it is over, the pain passes quickly and you barely remember it.  Sufficient amnesia that you are willing to do it again.     

Approaching Georgetown

The ocean was like a mirror

So we skipped the out-island hopping experience (we are not much for canned food anyway), and made it to civilization.  For many cruisers, Georgetown is the epicentre of the Exuma keys cruising experience.  Many boats leave Florida each year, make it here, and go no farther south.   There can be up to 600 boats in the harbour at a time.  We have not made it into town yet, but there are allegedly many amenities.  More later!  

Volver's first Georgetown sunrise, reflecting off the mirror-like ocean, appearing as in a watercolor painting

NOT Stuck on Gilligan's Island (or any other Puerto Rican port)

Prior to leaving Salinas, we enjoyed celebrating Amy's 6th Birthday at Sal Pa Dentro.  Jean and his lovely wife rustled up a cake, candles, and balloons, when she promptly announced the event during happy hour.

Sal Pa Dentro:  the Cruiser's Bar

More candles than years old made this tough!

Volver left Salinas after a nine day stay.  We almost forgot how to sail and we definitely forgot about the afternoon screaming mimis that blow, usually up to 25 knots.   More properly known as katabatic winds, they howl every afternoon, are created by land effects, and make sailing east along the south coast of Puerto Rico a real chore.  Fortunately, we sailed westward.  

Leaving Salinas behind

As we left, we joked about getting stuck in our plannned anchorage, named Gilligan's Island.  There are two stories behind this name.  The first is that a woman swam to the island and stayed for several years.  The second is that a local fisherman looked just like Gilligan, and the name stuck.  It's proper name is Cayo de Gorda, but over time, even the charts refer to it as Gilligan's Island.   

Our trip to Gilligan's Island was no joke.  Early in our journey, the winds picked up so we headed into the wind to put a reef in the main.  While doing this, the reef lines got stuck in the boom.  Once fixed, the main halyard got stuck on the steaming light.  The only way to rescue this is to climb the main (really, be hoisted up it in a bosun's chair):  not going to happen in 20 plus knots if we can help it.  Decided with that much wind we'd try to get there on jib sail alone.  We did okay and then the wind stalled, so we used the spare halyard (topping lift) and raised the reefed main.  Nice downwind sail until we were approaching our harbour entrance and decided we were overpowered and should bring in the jib.  It was now blowing 30 knots, and the first mate could not get the boat headed into the wind unless she powered the engine up to 3000 rpm:  fine for a burst, but too high for sustained use.  The jib furling line was firmly entangled in the chocks, and stubbornly refused to be pulled in.  

Captain went up to the bow to investigate.  We were not wearing lifejackets nor tied on to the boat:  we don't usually engage in proper safety behavior when we can see the shore (and also the US Coast guard instills a false sense of confidence).  Of course, since we were headed into the wind, the boat was now crashing into the waves, which were washing over the bow and the captain.  He came back, grabbed a sacrificial life jacket that we keep in the dinghy and went forward again, with a plan to roll the head sail up at the furling drum itself.  The sail and hardware and sheets were pummelling him.  He  then discovered the jib sheet had tied an intricate, houdini-esque, knot snuggly around one of the lifelines.  He swore like the proverbial sailor.  When the sails were finally put away, it was obvious the jib, which now had a strip of fabric torn loose and flying like a flag, and the sheet (there are no ropes on a boat), which had chunks bitten into it, were both quite damaged due to the flailing about.  So was the captain.   Both of the lenses were lost from his sunglasses.  Fortunately, his eyes were intact.   Bruised the lenghth of one side of his body and on his face:  pain medicine was offered and ingested, and he was relieved of all other duties for the night.   Three days later, his starboard side is an intense shade of purple:  he looks like he was flogged by BlackBeard himself.

The high winds howled on into the night, so we were unable to properly inspect the jib prior to turning in for much deserved rest.  Somehow, during the night, our mast head wind indicator snapped in two, and had a burial at sea.  Or did a bird sit on it, and break it?  The first mate will climb the mast up to the point where she stands on the second set of spreaders but she does not go higher.  Any higher, and the leverage the keel provides is insufficient, and the arc of swing is too much.  The mast head is about 10-12 feet higher than this.  If we can find a replacement for the wind indicator, we need to either hire a climber, or else a burly man to hoist the captain up, and a calm day!  

The next day, the forecast was good, followed by two days of high seas and high winds, so we wanted to get on our way.  No three days on Gilligan's Island, please!  We readied our little storm jib, just in case.  It hanks over the furling jib, which clearly had to remain furled to contain the sail damage.  The first mate was hoisted up the mast by 0600 hours, the halyard untangled, and we were off by 0700.  We had a 30 nm sail by the crow's route, a little longer when you throw in some gybes.   Happy Chaos usually passes us on the way, (we noted on the AIS that they were doing 8.7 knots:  no wonder they are so happy!) but we were fast, average speed of 7 knots, with reefed main alone.   We were safely at anchor in Boqueron by 1230, just an hour after the afternoon winds set in.  

Despite Boqueron being the most popular anchorage on the west coast, there are very few marine services.  Our quest to find a sailmaker was unsuccessful.  The town residents are very helpful and we were given lots of names and one nice business owner advised that his machine often breaks on sails and he'd rather not, as he had a lot of canvas work scheduled.  We were in a bit of a lurch, with a tight schedule to get off to the DR and the Bahamas when the weather window opens up, knowing there is no sailmaker in our single planned stop in the DR, and one sailmaker in the Bahamas, close to Florida.  Too much ground to cover to go with no jib!

Volver owns a sewing machine:  broken.  Laura from the Happy boat advised, "you are really lucky that we are here!"  Yes, we are.  And grateful.  No professionals, no problem.  Sailors are resourceful people.  And kind!  Thank you very much to Eileen at the marina in Boqueron, who allowed us to use their party room to repair our 50 plus foot long sail  with the happy sewing machine.  The sail will need replaced, but it should safely get us home now, barring any additional mishaps.  

The trip to the Dominican Republic involves crossing the "Mona Passage."  This is short, but feared and revered:  more so by boats going the opposite direction (for one heads into the winds and seas).   One of the deepest places of the ocean floor meets a long shallow shelf, and this always usually leads to big, confused waves.   In addition, there are frequent midnight thunderstorms, so we'll need to be across and out of harms way before that time.

Many people try to bypass the DR due to security and immigration (bribery) concerns, but there are marinas where the staff ensure there is no nonsense, and given how poorly we sleep on overnight passages, we'll stop to minimize the number of nights of lost sleep.  We moved our sleeping quarters to the aft cabin, where one is less bothered by the creaking and groaning of the sails and rigging and the crashing of the waves into the hull.   Today, we are cooking some passage meals in preparation for take off on thursday.  Currently, waiting for bread dough to rise.  Will try our hand at making stromboli:  basically, a pizza roll up.  Finger food, hot or cold, is terrific for passagemaking.  

Puerto Rico has been the surprise hit of the trip thus far.  We have not seen half of all we would like to see, and could easily spend another month here.  The people are very friendly, and even the strictly unilingual residents try very hard to be helpful.   Spanglish and gesticulations are often sufficient.   

Last year, we were so concerned about how to make it down to the Caribbean safely that we did not much consider our route home.   The first mate scowled and said,  "I'm never doing this again--we're going to ship this boat home from Florida!" during the long passage down, and that is the plan.  The Bahamas are a whole different creature though.  Basically a beautiful series of sandbars interrupted by reefs, one has to carefully plan navigation around good sunlight, as there is a lot of eyeball navigation required.  Yesterday, a new aquaintance, Charlie, advised, "there are going to be a lot of places where you are sitting with 2 feet of water under your keel.  Get used to it and don't worry about it!"  There will be a learning curve.  In addition, being much farther north, the Bahamas is much more affected by the storms that have been wreaking havoc on the US East Coast all winter.  We have to get home to get out of the Hurricane belt, but not so early we still get caught in the cold and stormy weather!  

Isla Del Encanto

Spanish Virgin Islands

Volver enjoyed Culebra immensely.  The small island has  many beautiful beaches, marine parks with turtle nesting zones and good snorkling.  Culebra has a population of 2000 people and 1000 golf carts.  We rented a rather sorry example of one of these, which somehow got us safely around this small island.  They should come with helmets.  We were expressly forbidden by the rental company to drive on unpaved roads, but they did not mention the moon sized craters in the paved ones.  Adventures are all part of the cruising lifestyle.  

This was Culebrita, but there are many long, white, sandy beaches like it on Culebra

First, we went to Flamenco Beach, which is beautiful, but was a spring break wonderland, with many people in beach chairs and umbrellas, eating disappointing kiosk foods and satisfactory cold drinks.  Then we moved to tamarindo beach, which the tourist map states is only accessible by dive boat (not true) and lies opposite the island of Luis Pena, one of the nature preserves.  This was a fantastic place to snorkel.  The first mate had her first up close and personal encounter with a hawksbill turtle, who was quietly feeding in crystal clear water about 4 feet away.  Beautiful markings of its head and feet, good light overhead--no camera.  

First thing the next morning we drove the cart over treacherous hills to the Playa (beach) Zoni, which is across from the isle of Culebrita.  A bit of a further drive from the town than the other beaches, this one belonged to us alone.  Gorgeous, and also good snorkeling.  Capt'n was making plans to move on and First Mate advised that we were not finished here.   She successfully convinced both Capt'n and the Happy family of the necessity to visit the marine park at Culebrita.  The two boats set off for a day trip, and were nestled into the beautiful anchorage of Bahia de Tortugas (turtles) by 0930.  

Lighthouse at Culebrita

Culebrita is not just a gorgeous place to hang:  there are places to explore, too.  There is a nice hike up to an abandoned lighthouse where you have beautiful views of the other Spanish and USVI.   A less picturesque, functioning lighthouse sets on the hill beside the large brick structure.  There is also a short hike over large rocks to "the Jacuzzi," which is a formation of boulders forming a natural bubbling pool.  The bubbles come from the surf breaking over the rocks.  

Hiking to the Jacuzzi

The kids, young and old, enjoyed waiting by the inlet for a surge to come as the tide came in, facilitating body surfing across the pool.  A good swim in the sea and a snorkeling session and it was time to leave, although one could stay in the Culebrita anchorage for several days and not tire of the scenery.  

the Jacuzzi, Culebrita

View from the lighthouse, Culebrita (anchorage on the left)

On the trip over to Culebrita from Honda Ensenada, both boats spotted the Bahia d'Almodovar, a beautiful, quiet bay, nestled in mangroves and protected from the Atlantic seas only by a reef, and we knew upon sighting that we'd be sleeping there.  Now, Volver shares a name with a film by the sometimes zany, sometimes profound, Spanish director, Pedro Almodovar, in which a sympathetic character, played by Penelope Cruz (Almodovar's longstanding muse) repeatedly returns to the scene of a crime.  We half hoped for a film screen to be hidden in the mangroves somewhere,  playing one of Almodovar's early comedies, such as "women on the verge of a nervous breakdown" but no luck.  The bay was very serene and silent, apart from the surf crashing over the reef in front of us.  Some grey clouds moved in, so the photos do not do this anchorage justice.  

This guy is trying for the incognito look

First light, we were off to the largest Spanish Virgin Island, Vieques, and settled into Sun Bay, an anchorage just beside the town of Esperanza.  Capt'n has high hopes for any town that sports a malecon (boardwalk), and was mildly disappointed by the town's offerings:   a museum, a few guesthouses, bars and restos.  Perhaps we are jaded by having settled into so many spectacular places over that last few months, and we found ourselves underwhelmed by the long, palm tree lined, white sandy beach of Sun Bay.  It was rolly and since it was just us and Happy Chaos in the anchorage, we solved the problem with stern anchors, that turned the boats into the swell (reducing side to side impact), 90 degrees to the wind.  

Vieques may be the best place in the world (and one of three in Puerto Rico) to enjoy a bioluminescent bay, Bahia Puerto Mosquito.  At night, best viewed during the dark of the New Moon, chlorophyll producing dinoflagellate plankton glow when they are touched, either by running your hand through the water, or by the surface of your kayak.  The plankton thrive because the bay has a very narrow inlet, and the water turns over only once per 13 days (the bay glows because it is stagnant).  The health of the Bay has been threatened by ecotourism.  It is likely that sun and bug screen and petrol are killing the plankton.

 There are many companies offering kayaking tours shortly after sunset, and Volver planned to join one of them, toxin free, of course.  Our plan was thwarted when Capt'n stepped on a sea urchin while beaching the dinghy.  He has a tattoo of 20 or so sea urchin spines embedded in his foot at the ball joint and could not walk on it.  Sea urchin spines are venomous and although there are a lot of old wives tales of treatment methods, there is no evidence for anything other than  hot water soaks, which are purported to leach out venom.   There is a high risk of infection, so Volver had to pass on the tour, and did not contribute to the destruction of Bioluminescent Bay.

The island of Puerto Rico

We moved onto the island of Puerto Rico itself. Several days lacking wind saw us settling into a marina in Palmas Del Mar, which was nearly empty and had a lovely pool.   Wind resumed its usual schedule, and we were able to move on to Salinas, which is a very popular place for live-aboards.   It is a large bay, surrounded by mangroves, close to amenities and is very comfortable, as there is no swell.  We made this a base for renting a car and seeing the island, as well as doing a final major provision before we make a break for the Dominican Republic (good luck finding much) and the Bahamas (ditto, plus very expensive).   

Salinas is known for its seafood restaurants, especially for Mojo sauce, and the best surround the marina area.  There is a town square a mile away that houses the saturday farmer's market, and the town has some interesting buildings.  We love the whimsical library with its easy care 'trees.'

Biblioteca Publica, Salinas

Another sea creature sighted:  Salinas is home to a fairly rare animal, the manatee.  One morning, there was a large splash heard while we were enjoying coffee and the sunrise.  The first mate declared, "perhaps that is a manatee."  Capt'n insisted they don't jump, and they are also slow and stupid.  Then we note two huge animals, the size of very rotund dolphins, with fat heads and tails more like whales, swimming by, one on either side of the boat, surfacing in a dolphin-esque fashion.  First mate did not stop herself from saying....I told you so.....

The market in Ponce

Ponce is Puerto Rico's second largest city, named for Ponce de Leon, the explorer, who was the first governor of Puerto Rico.  The island was originally named San Juan (after St. John the Baptist), and the city of San Juan was known as puerto rico (rich port:  there was gold in the early days of island history, and the island was also a major portal for trade with South America).  Over time the island and the city switched names.   Ponce de Leon was often away from the island, searching for the fountain of youth:  ironically, he only found Florida, and he died young, killed by native inhabitants of Cuba.  

Handsome Leons

Ponce is the home of a beautiful square, surrounded by many mid-17th century buildings.  Unfortunately, unbeknownst to us, most museums, including the museum of architecture, are closed mondays.  It was a picturesque city, with a reputedly lively malecon, also deserted mid-day monday.  In 2012, the town invited 15 artists to paint Lions, and the resulting sculpture art is fun.  

Ponce Cathedral

Detail, Ponce Cathedral

Sneaking into Ponce Cathedral, just as mass was to begin

The first mate needed to rectify some fashion crimes, and we found our way to the Plaza las Americas.  This is an enormous mall, which must give the Mall of America a run for it's money in terms of size.  Puerto Rico has a population of 3.8 million (there are another 4.6 people of Puerto Rican descent living on Mainland US):   they have embraced both cultures.  It was a great culture shock for us to leave the plantain culture and be confronted with so many choices for consumerism!  Such a contrast to the many places we've visited where we couldn't find a place to buy a SIM card, simple staples like hand sanitizer, and all but the most rudimentary groceries are hard to come by!  And there was Chinese food that didn't scare us!  God bless America!


We drove to the capital city and checked into a hotel for two nights.  We will never take clean, hot running water for granted again, and enjoyed the plethora of hygenic opportunity.

Cafecultura, a fine example of San Juan architecture

In the capital city, we visited old San Juan, which is a walled city, and is a Unesco heritage site.   We visited 3 of the forts that were built in 17th century.  San Cristobal and El Morro are very impressive forts built by the spanish.  

The buildings are concrete and stucco, which is high maintainance in sea air, so there is extensive construction in San Juan.

San Cristobal Watchtower:  the iconic towers appear on Puerto Rican licence plates

View of 'El Morro' from San Cristobal

Lighthouse at 'El Morro'

The bunkhouse, San Cristobal:  we think even Volver's hard bunk would be cushier

The third fort, known as Fortaleza, has for many years served as the governors mansion, after the Spanish decided it was too far beyond the inner harbor entrance:  if the ships got that far, they had already infiltrated the defences.  

The Governor's mansion

We toured the grounds of the mansion, met the first dog, Toby, and the governor himself visited us:  he chided some of the tour group about our harsh Canadian winters and invited them to stay in Puerto Rico until the summer.  

The governor himself, second youngest in Puerto Rican history, elected age 41

There is a fourth fort, known as "el Canuelo," on a small island opposite the bay, which is a public park now, best accessed by boat.  We were taking a break from boating and enjoyed the view from land.  

This virgin Mary is protecting the island

Old San Juan is rich is architecture, public sculptures,  and beautiful views.  

Sculpture garden along the seawall

Nice former prison!  Now, operated by the gov't tourism agency

there are many sculptures and a gallery of
Angel Botello's work in the city

No Signage to help explain these fun puppets, hanging from the rafters

We visited the Museo de los Americas, which showcased both history and art of many Caribbean cultures.  And then on to the Museo de Arte de Puerta Rico which had a fantastic collection of mostly contemporary art.  

From the Art and Fashion exhibit at the Museo de los Americas, a riff on Klimpt

Typical Day of the Decoration, celebrated in Mexico

Typical Puerto Rican Carnival Costume
 (this is in Ponce:  the Diablo represents the sins of the last year)