La casona pr: Restaurante La Casona, San Juan, PR

Restaurante La Casona, San Juan, PR

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Exquisite variety of international dishes, natural and romantic atmosphere, gardens, interior patio, extraordinary wine cellar, and elegant Activity Rooms.


Fine Dining Cuisine restaurant for diners and Banquet Halls for private events.


#609 Calle San Jorge, Santurce PR 00909

San Juan  |  map

Capacity: 10 to 100 people


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Restaurante La Casona, restaurants in Puerto Rico.


Catering services in San Juan, Event venues in San Juan, Restaurants in San Juan

Event Types

Weddings, baptism & first communion, baby shower, birthdays and anniversaries, end of the year parties, team building activities, corporate meetings, congresses, conferences, seminars, product launches, trade fairs, cultural, social, artistic, special events and sweet 16.





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La Casona Beach House, Fajardo – Updated 2022 Prices

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  • Apartment Info & Price
  • Facilities
  • House rules
  • Guest reviews (43)



BBQ facilities

Free WiFi



Free parking

Air conditioning

Private Bathroom

You’re eligible for a Genius discount at La Casona Beach House! To save at this property, all you have to do is sign in.

Located in Fajardo, a 17-minute walk from Seven Seas Beach and 33.8 km from El Yunque Rainforest, La Casona Beach House has accommodations with free WiFi, air conditioning and access to a garden with a grill.

Featuring a patio or a balcony, all units include a seating area, a flat-screen TV with cable channels, an equipped kitchen, a dining area, and a private bathroom fiitted with free toiletries.

A terrace is available for guests to use at the apartment.

Las Croabas is a 3-minute walk from La Casona Beach House. The nearest airport is Luis Muñoz Marín International Airport, 54.7 km from the accommodation.

Couples in particular like the location – they rated it 9.4 for a two-person trip.

La Casona Beach House has been welcoming guests since 7 Jun 2018

Distance in property description is calculated using © OpenStreetMap

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Property Highlights

Top Location: Highly rated by recent guests (9. 1)

Free Private Parking Available On Site

Select dates to see this property’s availability and prices

Accommodation Type



Holiday Home

Show prices

Apartment — Ground Floor

Show prices

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Closest beaches

  • Seven Seas Beach

    8.8 Excellent beach

    1 km from property

  • Canalejo Beach

    8.1 Very good beach

    1.6 km from property

  • Escondida Beach

    8.3 Very good beach

    2.4 km from property

  • El Convento Beach

    8.7 Excellent beach

    2.7 km from property

Property questions and answers

Browse questions from guests for anything extra you want to know about the property

The property usually replies within a few days

  • Hello, how many people does this home accommodate?
    Thank you

    Hi! The house capacity is 8 person but the cost is for 6 person if you have more than 6 person is only $30 per day and per person thanks

    Answered on March 9, 2021

  • When is the best time to visit your property for the perfect beach holiday?

    summer but in puerto rico we have summer all year thanks

    Answered on September 18, 2019

  • Hi, can I have the full house?

    yes we have a full house

    Answered on November 19, 2020

  • How much it will be to rent the whole house from dec 24 to dec 28. thanks I will appreciated your respond. Visiting from Florida

    you can see the rate in thanks

    Answered on May 22, 2021

  • son 2 espacio por separados?
    Cuantas camas son y cuartos son?

    El una habitación con cama doble y literas

    Answered on July 31, 2021

  • Still looking?

All distances are measured in straight lines. Actual travel distances may vary.


  • Toilet paper

  • Towels

  • Private Bathroom

  • Toilet

  • Free toiletries

  • Shower


  • Linens

  • Wardrobe or closet


Sit back and relax

  • Picnic area

  • Outdoor furniture

  • Outdoor furniture

  • Sun deck

  • Barbecue

  • BBQ facilities

  • Patio

  • Balcony

  • Terrace

  • Garden


Freedom to eat when you want

  • Toaster

  • Oven

  • Kitchenware

  • Kitchen

  • Microwave

  • Refrigerator

  • Kitchenette

Room Amenities

Extra comfort

  • Drying rack for clothing

  • Clothes rack

Outdoor & View

Enjoy the view

  • View


  • Beach

  • Pool table
    Additional charge

Living Area

Space for everyone to be together

  • Dining area

  • Sitting area

Media & Technology

Fun for everyone under one roof

  • Flat-screen TV

  • Cable channels

  • TV

Food & Drink

  • Tea/Coffee maker


WiFi is available in all areas and is free of charge.


Free private parking is available on site (reservation is not needed).

  • Parking garage

Safety & security

  • Smoke alarms


  • Air conditioning

  • Smoke-free property

Languages Spoken

  • English

  • Spanish


3:00 PM — 8:00 PM


11:00 AM — 11:30 AM


Cancellation and prepayment policies vary according to apartment type.
Please enter the dates of your stay and check what conditions apply to your preferred room.

Refundable damage deposit

A damage deposit of USD 150 is required on arrival. That’s about 151.94EUR. This will be collected as a cash payment. You should be reimbursed on check-out. Your deposit will be refunded in full, in cash, subject to an inspection of the property.

Children & Beds

Child policies

Children over 3 are welcome.

Children 4 and above are considered adults at this property.

To see correct prices and occupancy info, add the number and ages of children in your group to your search.

Crib and extra bed policies

No cribs or extra beds are available.

Age restriction

The minimum age for check-in is 30

Cards accepted at this property

La Casona Beach House accepts these cards and reserves the right to temporarily hold an amount prior to arrival.


Smoking is not allowed.


Parties/events are not allowed

Quiet hours

Guests need be quiet between 10:00 PM and 9:00 AM.


Pets are not allowed.

Legal info

This property is managed by a private host. EU consumer law relating to professional hosts might not apply.


Night will fall in Caracas read online by Carina Sainz Borgo (Page 6)

The tree on which stone plums grew has appeared to me more than once in my dreams. Sometimes it grew out of the city’s sewers, sometimes from the washstand in our apartment, or from the laundry room at the Falcon boarding house. When I dreamed about it, I didn’t want to wake up. The dream tree was much more beautiful than in real life, and its branches were bursting with many pearl-purple plums, which sometimes turned into large shiny cocoons in which large caterpillars slept — strangely beautiful and slightly repulsive. And they barely moved. So the muscles on the shoulders of the horses moving along the road opposite the guesthouse played with tension — huge animals with broken hooves, which carried huge wagons with cocoa and sugar cane to the market, where they were unloaded by workers. Much in Okumara was done then in the old fashioned way, as if the nineteenth century had not yet ended, and progress had not come into its own. If it weren’t for the electric lights on the streets and the trucks with Polar beer ads on their sides that chugged up the highway through the mountains, no one would have thought that it was the 80s of the twentieth century.

To remember the incredible trees that sprouted in my dreams, I tried to draw them in my sketchbook using the purple and pink crayons I found in my set of twenty-four colors. With the help of a sharpener, I crumbled the eraser and rubbed these crumbs into the drawing with my fingertips, so that something like a blurry purple halo appeared around the larvae on my trees. For each drawing, I could spend several hours. I created my paintings with the same pleasure and passion with which I once sucked and gnawed at the sour, hard-veined plum pulp, the taste of which has been preserved in my memory to this day.

The tree on the boarding house patio was my territory. Sitting on its top branch, where I climbed with the dexterity of a monkey, I felt free. This part of my childhood had nothing to do with the spooky city I grew up in, which over the years has become a maze of fences and castles. No, I liked Caracas in general, but I still preferred Okumara, the capital of mosquitoes and sugar cane, to the dirty metropolitan pavements strewn with rotten oranges and dotted with iridescent iridescent, like the plumage of a parrot, engine oil stains.

Things were different in Okumara. The sea … It was all about him. There it healed and corrected mistakes, absorbed bodies and threw them back. The sea soaked literally everything it came into contact with, and even the Okumare River, which still flows into it, could not drive sea salt far enough from the coast. Sea grapes grew on the shore. From his brushes with rare round berries, my mother wove crowns for me, like the winners of a beauty contest, and I, crouching in a secluded corner, daydreamed, decorating myself with earrings from pearl-lilac caterpillars, in which the stone plums of my dreams that penetrated through the shell of reality turned into .

* * *

There was another shooting in the street. Like yesterday, like the day before yesterday, like three days ago. Like a stream of muddy water, the sounds of gunfire separated my mother’s funeral from the following days. When the first shot rang out, I was sitting in my bedroom at my desk by the window. Automatically raising my head, I saw that there was not a light in the windows of the neighboring building. This was not unusual, because the electricity was often turned off throughout the city, but there was a light in my apartment. In mine it was, but in others it was not, and it seemed strange to me. Something is happening, I thought. Something is happening on the street. I reached out my hand and hurriedly turned off the lamp. And then in the apartment on the floor above, where Ramona and Carmelo lived, there was a roar and a knock. Falling, overturning, furniture. Tables and chairs were dragged from place to place with a loud grinding noise. Pulling the phone closer to me, I dialed their number, but no one answered. Chaos and night continued outside. The country was going through dark days, perhaps the worst since the Federal War-1863 between the liberal-federalists on the one hand and the conservatives on the other. In terms of scale, this was the largest conflict on the territory of Venezuela since the end of the War of Independence.].

Probably a robbery, I thought, but why can’t you hear the voices? Why isn’t anyone swearing, screaming, threatening?.. Moving to the living room window, I cautiously looked out. In the middle of the street, a garbage container burned with a bright flame. The wind carried scraps of banknotes along the sidewalks, which were burned by the surrounding residents — emaciated, soot-covered people who gathered together and lit the city, setting fire to the symbols of their poverty.

I was about to call Ramona again when I saw several men downstairs in military intelligence uniforms coming out of the entrance of our house. There were five of them, and each had a rifle hanging over his shoulder. One was carrying a microwave, the other a desktop computer. The rest had suitcases in their hands. I never figured out if it was a raid, or a robbery, or both. The men loaded into a black van and drove towards Esquin de la Pelota. As they disappeared around the corner to the avenue, a window flared up in the neighboring house. Behind him is another. And further. And further. The wall of blindness and silence began to crumble, and only the whirlwind of flaming banknotes tossed up by the wagon still swirled around the street corner.

Before cash completely disappeared, the revolutionary government announced that, according to the decree of the Comandante President, old paper money would be gradually withdrawn from circulation. The purpose of the decree was proclaimed to be the fight against the financing of terrorism and extremism — or what the country’s leadership considered as such, but the issuance of new money to replace the old ones did not change anything. The papers that were put into circulation by decree from above were not worth a penny. A simple sanitary napkin was now much more valuable and useful than the hundred bolívar notes, piles of which now smoldered on the pavements, as if foreshadowing even more difficult and terrible times.

The food I kept at home could last me two months. My mother and I started stockpiling food a few years ago, when the first wave of robberies swept across the country, and since then every month we have carefully replenished our pantry. Over time, robberies and raids became commonplace, almost familiar, but I was ready to fight for my life. The authorities themselves taught us several survival lessons, which I learned well and used the knowledge gained at the level of instinct. Now I didn’t have to be taught what to do and how to do it—the epoch itself became my teacher. Our lot was a war, the approach of which we knew long before it began. Mom was one of the first to foresee the coming events. For years, she stocked food and the most necessary things. If we managed to buy three cans of canned tuna, we saved two for a rainy day. We stuffed our pantry as if we were fattening a huge calf, whose flesh, if necessary, we can feed on forever.

* * *

The first robbery I can remember happened on the day I turned ten. At that time we already lived in the western part of Caracas and were thus to some extent protected from the cruelty and violence that flourished in other parts of the city. And yet, even with us, anything could happen. Tormented by uncertainty, my mother and I watched as the detachments of soldiers walked and walked towards the Miraflores Palace [The Miraflores Palace is the official residence of the President of the Bolivarian Republic of Venezuela. Located on Urdaneta Avenue in the municipality of Bolivar Liberator in Caracas. The residence of the president is the La Casona Palace.], which was only a few blocks from our house. Hours later, TV showed crowds of men and women storming the stores. They looked like ants. On angry ants. They raced through the streets, ignoring the fresh blood stains on their clothes. Some carried huge butts of beef on their shoulders. Others dragged televisions and other electronics through broken glass windows. On Sucre Avenue, I saw a man pushing a piano in front of him.

On the same day, the Minister of the Interior, speaking live on television, urged the citizens to remain calm and orderly. The government remains in control of the situation, he assured. Then suddenly there was a pause, and an expression of horror appeared on the minister’s face. He looked from one side to the other, then suddenly descended from the podium, from which he addressed the people, and disappeared from the frame. The empty podium was shown for almost a full minute. It was a terrible symbol, which clearly proved: the government is more than does not control anything , and peace, along with order, has come to an end.

The country has changed radically in less than a month. Trucks loaded with coffins appeared on the streets; the coffins stood on top of each other, somehow tied with ropes, and sometimes just like that. Some time later, a mass grave was found in the La Peste area. Several hundred people, men and women, were shot dead, wrapped in black plastic bags and buried. It was the first attempt by the Fathers of the Revolution to seize power and the first casualties of the «social disorder» that I remember.

For my birthday, my mother heated up some sunflower oil and baked a cornmeal cake that she tried to shape into a heart. Alas, in reality this sign of love was in the form of a kidney; around the edges it was fried until golden brown, but was quite soft in the middle. Mom inserted a tiny pink candle into the cake and sang “ Ay que noché tan preciosa ,” a more complex and longer Venezuelan version of “Happy Birthday to You,” which, unlike the English original, lasted a full ten minutes. Then my mother cut the cake into four pieces and buttered each one. We ate in silence, turning off the lights and sitting on the living room floor for safety. Even before we went to bed, the shooting outside the window sounded the final chord of a children’s holiday, which did not even have a traditional piñata [Pinata — a pot of sweets. During the holiday, it is hung from the ceiling, and one of those present is blindfolded and asked to break the pot with a stick.].

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