Taste of the normal

Well, I awoke early this morning to head down to the beach (stake an early claim on my patch of sand) only to find the rain coming down in sheets. My hope is that it will be a fast tropical storm that will move through quickly, allowing me beach time later today. So, in order to ride out the rain near a window, why not update you on my yesterday.

Yesterday, a sunny, beautiful day I might add, I decided to partake in a normal weekend ritual caribbean style...the biggest mall in the caribbean...Plaza Las Americas. Mall...you say. Yes, I was looking to get a little local flavor and perhaps some early summer finds. My day began in true (from what I hear) Puerto Rican fashion by waiting almost an hour for the bus to arrive. Evidently public transportation in San Juan is notoriously unreliable. I was to the point of giving up my wait when the B21 came rattling around the corner (and I do mean rattling). Once aboard the bus, it was a 30 minute ride through parts of San Juan I had yet to explore. We passed many cute apartments and condos I'm resisting looking into.

The mall was a typical large mall with a mix of Puerto Rico and the Americanization of the world. After an Argentinian meal, I did manage some great finds. The sauciest little salsa top that looked pretty hot, if I do say so myself. I also managed a black pashmina wrap and a smashing crock clutch in my favorite turquoise color. All my finds came to roughly $28.

As I was smugly basking in the glow of my purchases, I stumbled upon a Borders. Hmmm...must resist putting in an application and moving to the islands. Only the thought that a real job would be hard to find is holding me back. Across from Borders was a movie theater, so I decided to see Coach Carter. How great to see an American movie with Spanish subtitles.

After waiting another 30 minutes (listening to the local lowdown on taxis and the public transportation system from two great women) to catch the last bus back to my hotel, I finally made it back. One thing that struck me all day was how I was continually taken for a native (there are really pale Puerto Ricans and red is the hair color of choice). People would come up and just start speaking Spanish to me. How sad is it that I adored this? It, of course, was less cute and more challenging when I was the last person the bus and trying to convey which stop I needed to a driver anxious to get home.

Perhaps I'll scrounge up some breakfast while I wait for the rain to break.