El Yunque Et Al

I didn't have time to squeeze out a post yesterday, but here's what happened as far as I can recollect it:

James woke up around 6am as a good baby should, and greeted me with a soft "da-da" as I picked him up.  Grandma took over shortly thereafter and Erica and I got a few minutes to walk along our secluded beach and even get in the ocean, imagine that!

No tengo a nadie

The post-morning nap phase of the day saw the whole group trekking to El Yunque National Forest, billed as the only rainforest in the United States forest system (seriously, though, there are tons of others (e.g., the Hoh rainforest in Olympic National Park) under federal protection, but apparently technically not under the "National Forest" designation.  So not really something to really hang your hat on, IMHO.  Nevertheless,) it was very awesome, despite its largely unhelpful visitors center, which did however serve as an impressive backdrop for a family picture.

James scored another stamp for his National Parks passport book which, you'll remember, he got here.  Then he tried to give it a munch.

At the visitor's center, we decided to drive to the Big Tree trailhead and hike the 0.8 mile or so to the Las Minas falls.  Since it was a Sunday and most of the Puerto Ricans themselves decided to visit the park too, we had an extremely difficult time finding parking along the slender shoulders of the crapo mountain roads.  The trail itself was "paved" with poorly poured concrete, an excellent choice for a steep trail in a rain forest.  We did finally get to the falls themselves, which were ample.  The water was freezing, and neither Erica, I, nor James did more than dip our toes in, but dad went whole hog right under the falls themselves.  

Red shirt, waving

Aunt Molly had stepped up to the plate and carried James all the way there (which seemed a lot longer than 0.8 miles all agreed), and gave way to me on the way back.

We drove back along PR-53, a highway sort of road.  Puerto Rico, the majority of whose citizens recently voted for the first time for statehood, is twice as poor as Mississippi.  In many ways it looks like the third world--everything is predictably made from concrete and corrugated sheet metal, and most homes and buildings are unfinished to one degree or another.  But you will also happen upon just about every kind of American chain store or restaurant, most people speak at least passable English, and the bars all serve Shaefer (!) beer and show NFL games (a note on the beer here: the ubiquitous Medalla Light, of which there is no "heavy" antecedent, is your classic very light international adjunct lager and comes in 10 oz. cans.  There is also the native Magna brand, which is a Touborg clone, so get that instead.  All other beer is either Heineken or some American beer.)

Due to a communication error between the members of the meal-planning contingent, we enjoyed a nice home-cooked meal of Erica's legendary pepper shrimp warmish burgers on a dying gas grill.  Afterwards, Erica and I, along with Molly, Mark, Uncle Mike, and Aunt Julia enjoyed a beer at the beach bar, and later drinks in the open-air Wyndham lobby, where the poor waiter was confused by my order of a Negroni.

Rose: the hike with the family; watching James enjoy the forest

Thorn: the traffic in Loquillo and Fajardo

Bud: just a day on the beach