R&R in Old San Juan

We flew out to Puerto Rico for a little R & R, my wife Margarita and I. She has a small place there in the Old San Juan, the section where the Spaniards first established themselves about five hundred years ago. It’s located on a street with inclined steps, one of only a few step streets there, and an attraction for tourists and artists who are drawn to its quaint appearance. Johnny Depp hurled down those steps in an old Fiat for the movie “The Rum Diary.” That scene was filmed in 2009 and Margarita had to negotiate a contract with the production company to make some temporary changes to the façade of her building. We saw the completed movie several years later and had visions of fame and glory, but the scene with the step stairs flew by so quickly that our hoped-for five minutes of fame was no more than a fraction of a second.

About 40 years ago, before we were married, Margarita bought the place from distant relatives. It was a crumbling old building at the time, down to its foundation and partially standing walls. With a loan from HUD, she hired an architect and restored it in the Spanish colonial style prevalent there. “It was my first baby,” Margarita likes to say. Her other babies, our four daughters, were born after we married.

We like to go there in the winter, when the weather in Chicago gets cold. It was five above zero when we drove to O’Hare at six in the morning on December 30, 2013. We boarded the 737 Boeing stretch jet for the four-and-a-half hour flight. It was booked solid with about 180 souls on board, including a family of acquaintances who, by coincidence, were vacationing in San Juan at the same time. We agreed to hook up for lunch the next day and promised to show them around.

We landed at the Muñoz Marin Airport in the Isla Verde section of San Juan. It was 80 degrees and tropically humid. I felt my metabolism drop a few notches. After we picked up our car we made a few stops, including one at the Kasalta bakery for some coffee and “quesitos,” the delicious glazed sugar buns filled with cream cheese. It felt good to let go.

The next morning I took my traditional hike to “El Morro,” the massive fortification at the western tip of Old San Juan. It was constructed over the centuries by the Spaniards who occupied Puerto Rico after Christopher Columbus discovered it on his second trip to this part of the world. It helped to defend the island from pirates and other invaders, including the French, English and the Dutch. It served its purpose pretty well, until the Spanish-American War of 1898, when the American troops defeated the Spanish military and took over administration of the island.

From the top of the fortification, your eyes are naturally drawn north to the vast panorama of the Atlantic Ocean and the white puffy clouds beneath the deep azure of the sky beyond. Standing there, you feel the enormous power of nature, as well as a tranquil sense of peace. It’s a good way to reconnect with the island – and with yourself.

We met our friends from Chicago for a late lunch at Rosa De Triana, the restaurant, bar, and tapas place on Caleta de San Juan, across the street from the Hotel El Convento. The restaurant entrance is a small door at the inclined street level, but you could easily miss it.

Jose Antonio, a Spaniard from the city of Malaga, is the owner of Rosa de Triana. He runs it like a family operation with help from his niece, Maria, and her parents, Miguel and Ana. Maria waits tables, tends bar, helps with the management, and even sings Malagenian songs when the entertainment gets into full swing. On this occasion, Jose Antonio greeted us personally and seated us at a table large enough to accommodate our group of nine. He assigned Maria to take care of us and we proceeded to have a festive and delicious meal, capped off by a bottle of champagne – complements of the house for New Year’s Eve.

Margarita and I had been there on some weekend nights in the past, when the Flamenco dancers and musicians performed. Jose Antonio always sat us next to the tiny stage on those occasions. The swishing of the dancers’ skirts was so close that you could feel the breeze. After they finished their numbers, the beautiful dancers always asked the audience members to come on stage and do a few steps with them. Pictures were always welcome.

I have several routines I follow during my stay in Old San Juan. One of them is to go for a morning walk past El Morro, down through the narrow cobble stone streets to the piers on San Juan Bay where the giant cruise ships dock, and finally back up the winding and hilly streets to Margarita’s place. Along the way, I usually buy a copy of the San Juan Star, the local English language tabloid that has been reporting the local, national and international news since 1959. Hunter S. Thompson, the author of the book “The Rum Diary,” tried to get a job with the San Juan Star when he came to Puerto Rico in 1960, but William Kennedy, the executive editor at the time, turned him down. He and Kennedy struck up a friendship, though, and both went on to become successful writers.

The paper has the usual news of local crime, labor strikes, and political shenanigans. Hardly a day goes by, though, without some article or discussion about the political status of the country. It’s been a hot topic among the locals since 1898. Puerto Ricans are citizens of the U.S. since the Jones Act of 1917, but maintain their Spanish culture, as well as a certain amount of political autonomy. Its legal status is an unincorporated territory of the U. S. under a commonwealth structure. This structure is too complicated to get into without getting bogged down in legal minutiae. Suffice it to say, most Puerto Ricans favor either maintaining some version of the current commonwealth status, or becoming the fifty-first state.

On Sunday we met up with Margarita’s friend Mirtila and her husband. She had just gotten married to a retired nuclear engineer from New York. We had brunch at St. Germain Bistro & Cafe, on the corner of Calle Del Sol and Calle De La Cruz. It’s a local, mostly vegetarian place — a rarity in Puerto Rico. The food is delicious, the presentation elegantly simple, and the service pleasant.

Our plan after the brunch was to go to a concert of folkloric music in the garden of the Governor’s mansion. It’s an annual event there on the eve of Three Kings day, a holiday that is celebrated on the island with gusto. The Governor buys hundreds of thousand of toys and gives them out to children all over the island.

Since we had time before the concert was to begin, we strolled down to the piers, where the cruise ships dock, and walked leisurely toward the Governor’s mansion. I chatted about Puerto Rico with the nuclear engineer from New York.

“I don’t think Puerto Rico wants to become the fifty-first state,” he said. “Even though most of residents speak English, their primary language and culture is Spanish.”

I nodded in agreement and he went on.

“They don’t have our work ethic, our entrepreneurial drive,” he said. “Their economy is in bad shape and they haven’t developed their resources to the fullest potential.”

“They don’t have a lot of natural resources to develop,” I mused, “except maybe for the climate.”

“That’s a good example,” he said. “They could develop tourism a lot more.”

I reflected on that for a while. “Maybe it’s true,” I responded, “but I’m not sure they want to.”

As we approached the “Paseo de la Princesa,” a plaza heading toward the Gate of San Juan, we heard music and saw a crowd. Apparently some musicians had set up an open-sided tent, hooked up the amplifier, and were holding an impromptu concert. The crowd was in a happy mood and many couples were dancing to the heavy salsa rhythm. Margarita grabbed me by the hand and we started to dance. Everyone around us smiled and nodded in approval. I looked at my New York friend and smiled too. He was dancing with his new bride. So much for further economic development, I thought.

During our stay in San Juan, I kept getting emergency texts, e-mail and voice mail messages about the impending severe weather in Chicago. On Sunday, January 5th, the alerts warned, the low at O’Hare was scheduled to be minus 20 degrees Fahrenheit. They urged everyone to stay indoors and take adequate precautions.

I texted our third daughter, Margarita, (“little Margarita”) to make sure she was safe and that she was taking care of our house during our absence.

“R U OK?” I asked

“Everything is cool,” she texted back, “no pun intended. :)”

She went on to say that she was feeding the canary and watering the plants, and that the neighbor boy, Jack, was shoveling the driveway.

I thanked her and shut off my iPhone. Cold, or no cold, I’ll be coming home in a few days. There’s always R & R in Old San Juan next winter, when the nights are long in Chicago and the weather becomes a serious topic of conversation.

© 2014 Tony Mankus