White, black, Puerto Rican...

...everybody just-a-freakin´

We opened our new copy of LP Puerto Rico and our faces dropped at the opening gambit "there is no budget accomodation in Puerto Rico", "PR is not a country for budget travellers".

Oh dear (well actually "oh bollocks") we thought (Anna has some strange verbal quirks and a very unusual vocabulary for a non-native English speaker) and we created a vague plan to see San Juan and maybe go to one of PR´s islands. As usual we put the best foot forward, found a cheap hotel tip and pitched up at San Juan.

PR isn´t a country at all. It is a tone of thought. Well, it´s actually an American dependency, the 51st state, not a state, they vote in the primaries, but can´t vote for the president, they don´t pay federal tax, but they are subject to federal law. And they like it that way - about 65% are happy to be a dependency. The whole North of the island is a sprawling metropolis, there is little public transport, car culture everywhere, some security issues like any US city and then the really good stuff - but we didn´t really know about that when we arrived at 1AM after a double delay and missed flight out of Miami which no longer has a transit terminal, multiplying change times exponentially.

So, taxi to Old San Juan, hotel address, no hotel. Dark, late, cobbled streets, attractive, just around the corner from the dangerous La Perla part of town, hotel owner not answering the phone to the cost of about 50euros, panic is maybe 5 minutes away. The lads in the nearest doorway are somehow inviting. They are musicians, there is a studio visible in the front room and they are very, very nice. Already I realise that we coud crash on the floor if our hotel doesn´t exist. Promo guy is already on the phone, knows our innkeeper, he´s called a cab to check there is someone there before getting us. Guitar guy gives us a few riffs. Bass player girlfriend hangs. Smoking and drinking is going on in the street. And this turns out to be the home of PR rock minor legends Viva Nativa - and they are a very nice bunch.

It´s still not over though. We arrive at a bar. And then some confusion as the barman leaves his post, replete with pumping nu-jazz, and takes us around the corner to the hotel. And then it all becomes clear. It is not really a hotel. Pablo, a well known promoter and friend to our local nu-jazzers Nuspirit Helsinki, owns a couple of bars and now this private guest house. Some people online had posted about no staff and not being able to check in in the morning. That´s because the owner and manager (our barman, our hero) are up until 5AM drinking every night. So, 2AM was the perfect time to check in. It all made sense. We had the big room at the top with en suite, balcony overlooking greater San Juan, which we ditched for a cheaper one the second night. I still had time to wind down by going downstairs and finding some local lads for a few beers before retiring.

In the morning, we saw the view from the roof, the seductive charms of the hilly, tight, cobbles of Old San Jaun, and we breakfasted for the first of many times at St Germain, the relaxed brasserie that warmed us with fancies that would even have been treats back home.

But Anna still wasn´t convinced. In fact, disturbed by the contrast between our room´s bright wightwashed walls and the layers of dirt on the floor, she was insisting, and we were seriously considering, bailing.

But then... enter... Rafi :)