Peligros de la Ciudad en Puerto Rico!

100 years ago, Americans like me would have actually
approached this lovely old fort from the other side. 

I went to Puerto Rico for four days a few weeks ago and I'm thinking maybe I should go back for the rest of my life. Something tells me, however, that everyday life in Puerto Rico does not involve sitting on the beach all day, getting silly drunk on guava smoothies.

Top 3 Peligros:

1. Despite the fact that every sign along the main beach road through San Juan exhorts drivers to compartir the road with bicycles, San Juanistas are not super-big fans of said sharing, especially not with very obvious tourist bikers bumbling down the busiest road in the city on very obviously rented mountain bikes. Cultural learnings: Puerto Ricans use the same finger(s) that we do stateside to express dissatisfaction. Still, the adventure ended thusly: a sunny beach, Rihanna, meat and fried starch on sticks, coconut ice cream, and shockingly cheap beer.

This neighborhood, which I noted for its abundance of
charming roof porches, was later described to me as the most
dangerous, drug-and-crime-filled area of the city. Roof
porches and drug gangs? In DC, that's $2000/mo!

2. If you don't speak Spanish, don't speak Spanish. I fell into an annoying habit almost immediately upon landing at the airport of replying to everyone with si and gracias, which I think we can universally agree was obnoxious of me. The danger, other than looking like a douche, is that if you start saying Spanish words to people who speak the language, they will start using them back very quickly.  This phenomenon is called "speaking Spanish", and if it's revealed that you don't do it after you've intimated that you do, it is very embarrassing and you do not get your coconut ice cream as quickly.

3. Cab drivers in San Juan must go to the same school as the ones in D.C. At this school, they learn three things: 1) Traffic laws are fictional. 2) Fixed rates don't apply to drunk people. 3) Safety and perceived profit are directly proportional. I am a delinquent cab rider; that is, I let cabbies walk all over me because I'd rather pay too much money for a happy ride than a reasonable amount for a reenactment of Ronin.  My friends, however, are the kind of people who have "spent time in New York", so they know all about not overpaying for cabs and other urban things. Sadly, however, our cab driver on a trip back to the hotel one night was unhappy with the terms of our payment negotiations and, after nearly plowing a Honda Civic into the bay, decided not to engage the van's brakes in the hotel's driveway. He jumped fully out of the car as it was still moving in order to open the side doors, and only grudgingly brought it to a halt after several distressed cries from...uh, other people. I suppose the moral of the story is that paying for safety and having interesting travel anecdotes are inversely proportional.