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  Viktor Rodionov: The Banana Republic Archipelago (Number 6 (17) of March 26, 2004)

  Published:
  March 26, 2004

  Viktor Rodionov Louisville, KY

  Number 6 (17)

  Headings:

  Kar-r-ramba,
  Puerto Rico!

  Travel without adventure
  I can’t, something will happen. Either in Paris they will steal a wallet, then
  in Kaunas on the day of departure I lose a ticket to the USA, then in Mexico a taxi driver will deliver at night
  into the jungle. The Southern Caribbean cruise was no exception. For a week-long sea voyage
  I decided to fasten a couple of days of overland acquaintance with San Juan, the capital
  Puerto Rico where my cruise is supposed to start from. The appendage cost me good nerves.
  nine0003

  It seems on the map — the Caribbean is at hand, but pure summer
  from Kentucky to Puerto Rico for almost six hours, three airlines with two
  transplants. At an intermediate stage, the plane was late, and in Orlando, Florida
  the gap between arrival and final departure in San Juan was only forty
  minutes. Already on the employees of the airport, the Latin American flavor is clearly felt
  Florida. The airport is huge, I ask a signorita in uniform how to get to my
  aircraft. She explains that you need to go to the other wing of the station by shuttle train. nine0003

  here
  with this signorita, if she were healthy, my Puerto Rican troubles began.
  I’m going in the indicated direction, rushing around the building — there is no name on any sign
  my company ATA . At the information desk, it turns out that I need absolutely
  to the other end of the airport, again by shuttle. Ten minutes before departure, finally,
  I get to ATA , but it’s too late — boarding is over, and I can fly to San Juan
  only by another company and another flight. The next one is in a couple of hours. curse
  to myself, but there is no other way out. After all, two hours doesn’t solve anything, I
  I arrive on the island before dark and have time to get to my hotel before evening. Already over
  the ocean begins to itch a little thought — but will I miss each other with my luggage? He,
  dear, already in San Juan, and I’m still in heaven. nine0003

  Somewhere
  below, under a continuous veil of clouds, the Bahamas and Cuba. Just south of Jamaica. Beyond Cuba
  the island of Hispaniola with eternally troublesome Haiti and the sleepy Dominican Republic,
  behind them is my Puerto Rico. We break through the clouds and for 10-15 minutes we stretch along
  islands. To the left is the ocean, to the right are the gloomy masses of the Cordilleras. I expected to see this
  slides, and here are real powerful ridges and they occupy most of the
  rather big on the territory of the island. We fly over the city of Areciba. Trying unsuccessfully
  find the bowl of the world’s largest radio telescope. The giant «ear» of the Earth
  in 13 football fields, day and night “spying” on the universe. Here is implemented
  American space program to search for extraterrestrial civilizations. nine0003

  Still
  man is a frivolous being. With such a serious choice of where to travel,
  most often affect trifles. The gray-haired gentleman — in what he is for nothing out loud
  does not admit — pulls to Patagonia, because in childhood he read Jules Verne,
  to Tahiti because of Gauguin, and unbearable in Rio — to fulfill the citizen’s white-trousered dream
  Bender.

  My Caribbean choice was influenced by the once popular
  in the Union pop singer Gelena Velikanova and writer Robert Stevenson. From teenage
  for years, a hit of those times about Chico-Chico from exotic Porto Rico stuck in my memory,
  who «will be able to show any caballero how to dance a bolero.» And in addition to
  Chico Captain Flint, one-legged John Silver with a foul parrot on his shoulder and
  pirate hymn “15 men to a dead man’s chest. Yo ho ho, and a bottle of rum!” from “Island
  treasures.» Modern idiotic film «Pirates of the Caribbean» only spurred
  fulfillment of a child’s dream. Unfortunately, no matter how I tried, it didn’t fit into my itinerary.
  «Jamaica-Jamaica» by the sweet-voiced Robertino Loretti and the courageous James Bond.
  Although the island is from the same Caribbean district. nine0003

  My sky-high
  fears were confirmed on the ground. In San Juan, I got lost in the Bermuda Triangle
  companies that carried me and my luggage — Delta, American Airlines, ATA. All
  signors and signoritas are helpful, and just as politely indifferent to fate
  my lost bag. There are no ends anywhere, everyone is right in their own way. And over representations
  companies at the airport there is no one in charge, each is autonomous and is responsible only for
  myself.

  From five in the morning not a crumb in the mouth, it starts to stir up from
  hunger and hassle, but there is no time to eat, first of all you need to decide
  the main problem. Stupidly I go through which inspection in a day. To get into the luggage
  branch of the nth company, you have to go through a new search every time. I have just something
  look at one photographic bag, but it is carefully searched again and again, and I, like a seasoned
  a convict before a shmon, I tidy up a trifle in a trained way, take off my watch, belt and sneakers.
  nine0003

  Around 8 p.m. America took pity on me
  Airlines . For about forty minutes the clerk guy taps one finger on the computer keys,
  bringing there my ins and outs, signs and the contents of the missing bag. I get a shred
  papers — about the fate of the luggage to check on such and such a phone. And that’s okay, at least there is
  who to ask.

  After a few hours of “getting to know”
  terminal I am finally in the fresh air under the night tropical sky, and also
  twenty minutes later in his hotel with a fruity name Mango Inn. B
  In the dark, the area does not seem presentable, and the hotel too. Looks more like
  outskirts rooming house, although on the Internet site it looked quite decent. duty
  Rosita, chirping non-stop in a monstrous Anglo-Spanish mixture, determined
  me not to the main building, but to the outbuilding adjoining it with a separate entrance-wicket
  and a deaf courtyard, surrounded by a wall a little higher than human growth.

  My
  “numbers” exceeded the wildest expectations. Stone floor, shabby chest of drawers, dilapidated
  a chair, an antediluvian bed under a dirty-colored blanket and a rare television box of the era
  the birth of television. No utensils, not even paper cups. However, they
  I don’t need it, toothpaste and toothbrush are somewhere in the bowels of the airport, but there is nothing in the hotel
  not to buy, not to eat, only a vending machine with soft drinks. One towel per shower
  all occasions, a bar of soap, lack of shampoo and hot water. And it’s all for
  75 bucks a night, for this money in the States you can rent, if not chic, but quite
  decent number. nine0003

  I spank like an unfortunate engineer Schukin
  wet feet on the stone slippery floor, fastidiously dive into bed with a cloying
  the smell of disinfection and cheap laundry. It seemed that after all the troubles of the day at once
  I’ll switch off, but not in one eye. Fan siphon. It’s worth slowing it down.
  as soon as stuffiness sets in. The lamp with the relay outside over a window drives crazy. Minute
  light, minute darkness. And there is no escape from this torture, the blinds half-cover the window
  opening, no curtains. The bed is constantly crawling from the headboard and the pillow falls through
  on the floor. The front door is on a flimsy lock, you can easily open it with your shoulder, and it’s in a deaf
  yard, without a phone, if something happens, scream — don’t scream, it’s useless. nine0003

  Far away
  after midnight I forget myself like a dog’s sleep — in short gaps I watch fragments from the West Side
  stories” with poor Natalie Wood and her bloodthirsty relatives from Puerto Rican
  gangs of New York. At five in the morning under the window, buckets of maids begin to rattle — my number
  found himself next to a nook for storing cleaning personal belongings. No, go on like this
  can’t live! We need to change the hotel.

  But easy to pull out
  slogans, it is not easy to implement them. I’m chained to Mango by my luggage, in case
  discovery of him should be brought here. Should I move to another hotel,
  when our paths part again. I’m going on a psychological attack on Rosita’s replacement,
  he surrenders, and they transfer me to a chic, compared to the nightly bullpen, room. There is
  telephone, warm water, tolerable furniture, normal TV and no prison lamp
  under window. Plus, at my request, they gave out several paper cups. So live
  already possible. One and a half days and one night I will somehow change sides, all the more I’m not going to
  sit in the walls of the hotel. I didn’t come for that. nine0003

  San Juan.
  City of beautiful ladies

  my Mango is located in a very good location. Isla Verde
  on the island. Behind the highway separating us from the ocean is a resort area with multi-storey
  hotels and condos. Tourists from all over the world flock here to rest, but rather out of ignorance.
  Compared to Mexican Cancun and Dominican Punta Cana, the resorts of San Juan
  are clearly losing. Architecture without frills and fantasy, gray sand, ocean water
  lead shades. nine0003

  There is a bus to the Old Town. If
  take your time, convenient and profitable mode of transport. Ticket only 25 cents, by taxi
  I would have to shell out $16 plus two tips. Taxi rates in San Juan
  by zones. The starting price starts at eight dollars, the second zone is 16, the third
  — 24, and so on. Transport is cramped in a one and a half million sandwiched between mountains and the ocean.
  the city and the traffic is hectic all the time, not to mention the daily nightmare of hours
  peak. From my hotel to the center, the bus drags, as luck would have it, from forty minutes
  up to an hour. But there is an opportunity, slowly, to admire the beauties of the city from the window
  and see the people up close. nine0003

  Beauty as such, except
  the old historical part, there is not so much in San Juan. Hybrid of modern American
  architecture with its invariable skyscrapers and not very presentable one-two-story
  Caribbean neighborhoods with countless shops, shops, workshops and
  eateries. Closer to the center there is already something to see. Dominated by colonial
  Spanish style, whatever the house, then the “personality”. Unlike flat new San Juan
  the old one is located on the hills, which gives it an extra charm. nine0003

  B
  near the seaport I find a tourist center, some strange. Almost not
  information booklets and excursions, mainly outside the capital. Wishing
  a young woman is waiting to tour San Juan. Walking cost
  $38 and it starts in an hour. Don’t want to waste time and armed
  card, I embark on an independent voyage. Then the guide with her group came across
  me several times, and I looked gloatingly at the “suckers” led by her — the same
  I watched for free. At least once on something won. If you do not want on your own two
  climb the steep streets, you can use the free ring trolleybus.
  Its route specifically passes through the tourist points of the city. nine0003

  C
  island and its capital is an interesting toponymic incident. Originally island
  was named San Juan and the city Puerto Rico. Then for some reason it happened
  name reshuffling. Naturally, the island is open to the ubiquitous, like a gingerbread man, Columbus from above
  five hundred years ago. But he only staked out new land in the West Indies, really
  Ponce de Leon and Cristobal Colon mastered it for the Spanish crown. At the Museum of the Americas
  I am convinced that Gelena Velikanova was not at all mistaken when she sang not Puerto ,
  and Porto Rico — on the old maps of the island, this is exactly the spelling. Porto
  Rico.

  The old city is small in area, after a few
  hours, I freely navigated it. The layout is reasonable and practical, rectangular
  quarters interspersed with small cozy squares and squares. Quite a lot of monuments
  but among them something is not visible Tseretel’s Columbus. From the gift of the prolific Zurab,
  timed to coincide with the 500th anniversary of the discovery of America, half a dozen countries successfully disowned.
  Puerto Rico did not dare to offend the master and sheltered the homeless Moscow Columbus.
  The main type of architecture of the city is Spanish with juicy bright colors, no color
  «cocktails». Only pure colors: yellow, red, green, blue… Although some
  neighborhoods are more reminiscent of Creole New Orleans. Naturally, the entire infrastructure
  tourist-oriented service: cafes, restaurants, pubs, souvenir shops
  for different tastes and pockets. Kitsch dominates, but there are good galleries. Particularly interesting
  Haitian, with biting prices. Puerto Rico is famous for its linen and lace products.
  On one of the central streets there is a restaurant, the “homeland” of the world-famous cocktail
  Pina colada. nine0003

  What I liked about San Juan, unlike
  from the semi-bandit way of trading characteristic of the southern countries, Puerto Rican
  sellers do not impose their goods, do not grab by the sleeves and do not stick with a knife
  to the throat. All goods have price tags, and bargaining is not accepted. Purchase tax
  not on the island. I wander into an antique shop, on one of the windows there is a collection
  Soviet coins, orders and signs. Medals and orders cost from seventy to one hundred
  dollars, the usual Komsomol badge … thirty. To know before emigration that
  if I happen to visit Puerto Rico, I would like that! ..

  San Juan. Fort Del Morro.

  Home
  San Juan’s attraction is its forts. There are three of them in the city: del Morro, San Cristobal
  and San Geronimo. There are few well-preserved forts left in the world and the main
  from the Puerto Rican fortresses del Morro belongs to the monuments of the world historical
  heritage under the auspices of UNESCO. The Spaniards built the fort for 250 years, its cyclopean dimensions
  and power are impressive. The fortress stands on a 45-meter-high cliff, protruding far
  into the ocean. Towers, casemates, huge mortars and heaps of cores involuntarily tune in
  romantic mood with a militaristic flavor. Several centuries of the fortress of San Juan
  defended the city from the frigates of the British, Danes, Dutch and pirate raids, which
  teemed with islands in the Caribbean. Among the combat merits of the forts, the successful reflection
  armada of the famous English pirate Admiral Francis Drake. In your direct
  the purpose of the forts served until the end of World War II — there was an American
  command post for observation of Nazi submarines, sometimes going into distant
  from Germany water. nine0003

  The island is connected with the United States
  more than a century of history. Puerto Rico was ceded to the United States in 1898 as a result of
  the American-Spanish war under the «cunning» status of an associated territory. So
  called Commonwealth of Puerto Rico like a mermaid: neither fish nor woman.
  Something intermediate between an independent state and an American state. Local
  nationalist movements are fighting for secession from the states and full state
  independence, several referendums have been held on this topic, but so far the main
  the mass of Puerto Ricans is not too eager for “freedom”. Life under the «fifth of the colonialist»
  gives the “oppressed” Chico many benefits with a minimum of duties. US Citizenship,
  the opportunity to live and work on the continent, hence in the major cities of the States there are large
  Puerto Rican communities; the inhabitants of the island are subject to American social
  programs, even though they don’t contribute a cent to the federal budget. If you travel by
  independent States of the Caribbean, the benefits of
  US patronage — there is no obvious luxury, but there is no usual for the Third World
  total poverty. Puerto Ricans are not guilty that, for example, George W. Bush is
  President of the United States — they do not participate in American elections. Puerto Rico has no
  legislators in the US Congress, but the territory has its observer representatives in Washington.
  nine0003

  Two official flags — USA and Puerto Rico, currency
  — dollar, a system of measures of weight and length — a cross between American and European. Prices on
  gasoline in liters, with distances in general leapfrog. For example, road signs from
  San Juan to Guanabo can be miles away, and Guanabo to San Juan can be miles away.
  There are two official languages: Spanish and English. On the side of the first clear advantage.
  Although English is taught at school, in practice it is only spoken on duty
  or business-specific. I learned from my own experience, trying to ask something
  on the bus or on the street, the majority do not know English, even in the most primitive
  level. nine0003

  Puerto Ricans dress conservatively. tourists
  easy to identify by shorts and T-shirts, local men prefer classic
  trousers and shirts, women skirts and dresses, less often jeans. Paradoxes for the visitor
  — in the local fashion there are no bright tropical colors, and in behavior — southern temperament.
  The buses do not push, they speak in an undertone. Even the local homeless and beggars, whom
  not so many, and they behave, I would say, with dignity. None of them
  pesters tourists and extorts nothing. If they give it — good, if they don’t — we’ll manage.
  nine0003

  I have lunch in a cozy restaurant with a fountain, a greenhouse, parrots
  and amazing waitresses. I can’t say that San Juan is full of beauties,
  but if there are any, then the white American “misses” are no match for the soles
  local seniors.

  Relax, walk and enjoy the beauty
  and beauties, of course, not bad, but from time to time a stingy thought pops up
  about lost luggage. I can’t stand it, I call the hotel, nothing arrived, at the airport
  no one answers at all. Tomorrow we sail, and I’m like a bum — everything is mine with me.
  To the main property — the camera — I bought a toothbrush, paste and a bottle
  shampoo.