Tia and Kevin's Amazing Race 2013: the first pitstops

When we set out for San Juan yesterday, we were looking forward to having a get-away and getting back to tasting Latin American culture.  Once landed, we discovered a few other treasures and adventures, and immediately, this became our version of the "Amazing Race."

Being that Kevin is no longer able to walk long distances, we do take wheelchair transportation through airports. When we arrived at the Luis Muños Marin Airport in San Juan, we realized that this had greater benefit than just physical aid.  A young man with a wheelchair started out with, "English or Spanish?" And we eagerly went with "We need to practice Spanish please," and thus our escort began a whisking through the airport with such a welcoming spirit. He helped us through a myriad of walkways, hallways, and elevators, right to our luggage area. He helped get the baggage off the carousel, and took us all the way to the Enterprise van, speaking with the driver so that the van was most accessible. And all the while, we practiced Spanish. Yes, we tipped the young man, but our appreciation went well beyond the material value.

Puerto Rico reminds us a lot of Costa Rica, except that the buildings are taller and many seem newer. The Enterprise shuttle took us to the company and after signing off on a little red Suzuki Vitari, Tia gets to drive out into the city -- oh, wee.  In most of our travels and adventures, Kevin has been driver, Tia the navigator. However, no vehicles fit Kevin's prosthethic leg needs because of those consoles put between the two front seats.  Trucks are good, but that is not an option here. So Tia gets to drive.  That certainly elevated the trip to the "Amazing Race" status for me.

So I got out on those "Island of Enchantment" highways and followed the voice of the GPS as she tried to pronounce Spanish names in English pronunciation.  Suddenly "calle" ("street," pronounced kai-yeah) became "call." So it went. We aimed for the army base, Fort Buchanan, where we intend to stay at Caney Lodge the first few days. Many of you know how it is to drive around areas unknown to you, following directions and dodging city traffic as you get on and off exits that you didn't even know were there. Needless to say (but I will have to admit it here), I did miss a turn here or there, but eventually the GPS and the Suzuki led us to the gate we were headed for.

As another "many of you" know, getting to the gate of an army base does not guarantee access.  Bases have dozens of gates sometimes, and in this case, we arrived at a working gate, but its hours of operation did not match up with our arrival.  A sign indicated that when the gate was closed, entrants were to pass to the gate at PR28.  Which, of course, meant nothing to us.

Correction. I did recognize it as a route, but where was this route and on which direction do we go when we find it. You get the picture.  Again, very "Amazing Race."

So as soon as we could, we stopped a gentleman at a restaurant called "Fiesta" and asked directions. Oh, yes, he was glad to help us. He knew just what we were looking for. "English or Spanish?"  "Spanish."  So he began to direct us.  At first, no problem; we could follow everything he said. But by the time I got to his fifth or sixth turn and road description, I knew there was no way we could remember all these directions. He continued on, and then asked if we understood.  "Oh, sí, sí, sí." Understanding was not the problem.  Remembering would be the problem.  His last comment:  "If you do it wrong, you'll end up back here again."  Major foreshadowing.  

So we left him, started following the directions, saw a Denny's and decided to have lunch.

We enjoyed lunch, but decided to call the Caney Lodge and get directions from someone there.  I had to borrow a pen (can you believe I didn't pack a pen--even in my personal bag!?), and we were on the phone for probably 20 minutes getting directions--in English--from someone who knew where we were at (or so she thought). We scribbled the directions down on a napkin, and using those directions, two different GPSs, and reading signs (that are not continuous in their direction), we wandered around the area for another hour or so.  The directions given were just not working.  Finally, we stopped at a Dunkin Donuts (just for coffee, bathroom, and directions), and another young man was called over to help us.  "English or Spanish," he asked.  "English this time," I replied.

WIth this young man's directions, we discovered that our original napkin directions were not quite complete, but now we were at least on the correct path. We were no longer passing the Fiesta. We still had another "detour," but on the return from that last missed turn, we finally saw a sign for Route 28!

Exhausted and excited, we were happy to see some of the landmarks (the federal prison, for instance) that the first gentleman had indicated.

Once on base, all the napkin directions worked just fine, and we arrived at the day's final pit stop: "El Caney Lodge." ("Caney" is the indigenous tribal word for the house of a chief).  Once settled, we explored the base some and then ate barbecue on an outside patio. Nice breezes, birds singing, a bit of humidity, but not too bad.