(Apparently the British got into more than a few scrapes with the Spanish here in the 18 th and 19th centuries.) It was equally incredible to see my first iguana on the ramparts, which looked unnervingly similar to the dragons from the fairy tales I read as a child.Īfter counting more iguanas on the coastal walk by the fort, watching pelicans dive-bomb into the harbour, and giving ourselves something of a work out, we reached the imposing gate that was once the official entrance to the city – and decided a piña colada was in order. It was incredible to stand at the walls of the fort, to look out across the Atlantic and acknowledge that this was the first stop for European ships en route to their colonies in the Americas. The cliff-edge fortress has been around in some form since the 1500s, and has weathered all kinds of invasion attempts in the years since. Not quite ready to party, we made our way to the El Morro Fort, or Castillo San Felipe de Morro. We stopped for a refreshing mojito on Calle de San Sebastian according to the elderly woman behind the bar, it was the place for parties come nightfall. We passed pigeons crowded at the Plaza de Armas, and saw stray cats sunbathing in the square outside the cathedral. Windows were thrown open to encourage a breeze, offering a glimpse into the residential life of the city.
At ground level, there are the same tacky souvenir shops you find the world over, but once we raised our eyes skyward, we were rewarded with colourful colonial style buildings in all their (sometimes faded) glory.Įach street seemed brighter than the next – buildings of pink, orange, and green – with heavy wooden doors set into the painted stone. I was enamoured from the very first bite.įuelled up with mofongo and coffee, we stepped back out onto the cobbled streets of Old San Juan. Mofongo is the island’s signature dish, a fried plantain mash, often served – as we would find out in the coming days – with either chicken or pork, and sometimes slathered with a garlic sauce. Instead, my husband and I had our first taste of the mighty mofongo. We began our unscripted day by sitting down at the counter in Manolin, a diner-style restaurant, for brunch: we had hoped for breakfast, but were too late. I had never seen anywhere so colourful, and the self-guided tour went out the window in favour of my favourite way of exploring somewhere new: aimless wandering.
Instead, after just a few steps into the World Heritage Site that is the Old Town of Puerto Rico’s capital, I was mesmerized. It was all arranged: we would visit the tourist office, collect the map for the self-guided historical walking tour of Old San Juan, and follow the instructions.
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