Old San Juan

We spent the night at a little inn on Isla Verde, east of Old San Juan. In the morning, we drove in and parked in a huge indoor lot just up from the ferry and cruise ship piers; the most trafficked port in the Caribbean. Then the Cruise Director marched us smartly through the “must-see” bits. (This was because we had booked a cabin in El Yunque and the cabin owner had said we couldn’t really get to it easily after dark—about which, more later.)

We went into La Casita to pick up a map, then past the gorgeous, ornate, and very pink La Aduana (customs house), and along the road beneath the walls of the old city. We passed La Princesa, formerly a prison, and took a long look at the Raíces fountain, supposedly commemorating the Indian, African, and Spanish heritage of the island. We couldn’t distinguish the groups…perhaps blending had already taken place.

We walked through the Puerta de San Juan, the only remaining gate through the city walls. As we entered, I noticed a sign saying it is absolutely forbidden to abandon or feed cats inside La Muralla. We saw why. Dozens of cats, all over the place, and feeders set out by anonymous hands. Apparently this is the PR version of the SPCA.

Old San Juan city walls

We headed for El Morro, at the western tip of the peninsula occupied by Old San Juan. In front of it is the broad green expanse of the Campo del Morro, and clearly a favourite spot for kite flying. The kites are commercial, not like the homemade wonders we saw in the Dominican Republic; and they don’t fly as high or as far.

Almost designed for kite flying...the vast expanse in front of El Morro.

The fort El Morro is very beautiful in a belligerent sort of way. Its walls, built in 1539, are 140 feet high and up to 15 feet thick. The fort itself took 200 years to build. It held off any number of serious onslaughts by the Dutch and English, and one can see how. We wandered about its six levels for a long time, enjoying the views and the history.

The view from El Morro

After El Morro, we had one stop we very much wanted to make: Museo de Casals. Pablo Casals was born in Barcelona, but his mother was a Puerto Rican from Mayagüez. He spent the last 17 years of his life in his mother’s house and considered himself a puertorriqueño. In the tiny museum, Casals music is played continuously. There were two displays at the time we visited. The ground floor held various citations, honours, awards, medals, commendations the great cellist had received. Beyond them was a room that normally houses his piano, chair, desk, and cello. The last was off being restored as it had suffered from humidity changes. Upstairs was a photo display from Casal’s performance for JFK in the White House in 1961, when he pleaded for help in ridding Spain of the Franco regime he so detested. He played a Catalán liberation song as a finale.

The young man who had collected our $0.54 US each as admission told us the architecture students at the neighbouring Escuela des Artes Plásticas had been given the museum as a project. They were going to redesign the interior (making sure the cello gets a special enclosure with its very own climate controls), as well as planning the building’s expansion. Señora Calas has many more items she is waiting to donate. All that’s needed is space.

We headed back toward the car, stopping for lunch on the way. I think tourists expect Mexican food, since that’s all we could find. Then we took the ferry, planning to visit the Bacardi factory. We crossed the bay, only to learn the factory was closed for two days. Darn.

We returned to the car and set off for El Yunque.