The Culinary Old San Juan

Two days in Old San Juan and we've already gotten into a routine.  It must be an age thing.  Both mornings we breakfast at a deli called Yurta, on Calle San Francisco. Walk in and there's nothing to see but a steamed up cooler, but keep going and you'll find a walled garden with a couple of tables, a caged parrot that shouts, "Hola," and  any number of tiny lizards scampering over the walls and floor.

For less than six dollars each we had granola, yogurt, and fresh papaya the first day and egg scrambles and home fries today.  The local bread is a wheaty baguette flattened Cubano Style and drenched with butter. San Juan coffee is always made with local beans-- rich, dark, and a definite necessity considering that we're ignoring jet lag altogether.

After spending another morning glass-hunting on the beach we inhale a frozen yogurt and then hop on one of the free trolleys for what we think will be a leisurely ride around the town.

Instead we're stopped in traffic for at least an hour--stalled by noisy and expansive student protests in front of the capitol building. The driver won't let us off: it's not a designated bus stop. We finally escape to walk in our sandy beach shoes up and down the hills of the Old Town, cooling off in pricey gift shops where buying is out of the question.

The women of San Juan love their stilettos, and every other shop is filled with platforms, strappy sandals, and trendy gladiators.  I try on a pair I like and immediately realize that--for me at least-- walking will not happen in these shoes.

Late lunch is at a vegetarian restaurant called Cafe Berlin. Barb and I share hummus and a salad;  I get an eggplant/tofu sandwich that's marinated in something smoky and wonderful.  The waiter insists on bringing us a second glass of iced tea and then bills us an additional $3.50 for it-- a temporary downer.
 

Many side streets in Old San Juan are as narrow as walkways. Near the sea these streets yawn open into the broad and grassy grounds of the 16th century fort. It's here that you see just how imposing the brick abutments are, and get a sense of what life might have been like when security came in one grand and sprawling package: a massive city wall. The most charming part of Old San Juan?  Curving, hilly streets, brilliant pastel colors everywhere.  And of course the sunshine. 

Late this afternoon we reclaim our baggage from its storage place in our hotel and nab a taxi to get to our overpriced but lovely beachfront hotel.  It's going to be more difficult to find local bargains here in the area called Isla Verde...lots of restaurants along the main road but they're Americanized chains that are best avoided.  We're confirming what we've known all along: there are some days when eating in clearly trumps eating out.