My adventures in the Rich Port

First glimpse of the ocean: eternal blue, wind tossed palms.

Old San Juan: for the tourists. But do they ever look up?

Narrow streets, dark corridors. Painted bright to sweep things clean.

Something about the cross in relief against the turquoise tropical sky made a lump come into my throat.

I love afternoon haze on a city. Even the trees look sleepy....

Guardian

We had to stop for shaved ice.... I chose grape. The sugar and the ice gave me a fierce headache, but it was worth it.

The phallic nature of monuments never ceases to delight me.

Not a bad final resting place-- lulled into your final sleep by the endless crashing waves, kept tied to restless spirits by the slums that lie just beyond.

All along the watchtower

Windswept plane of el Morro.

Fortress of solitude.

The unbearable lightness of being.

I'm fascinated by signage-- both official and graffiti.

One way.

Sunset over cobblestones.

Dinner at the Parrot Club. (l-r: Maria, Mom, Melissa, me)

The view from our wedding hotel. I kept expecting the ocean to rise up and swallow those tall buildings. The arrogance of man, building so high and so close to that beast.

Wedding shower cakes.

Everything's funny when the blindfolded bride to be has a condom in her hand...

Maria has no idea what's to come...

Dancing with Jonathan later in the evening.

Maria gives Mom a dancing lesson. Mom yells at hecklers.

Cooling off those dancing feet.

Back in three weeks for the wedding...