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ornate iron balconies, from the happily
          painted apartment doors to the round-
          ed-arch windows. Even graffitti scrawled
          on walls and telephone wires haphazardly
          stretching across the sky look more like
          quaint touches than they do blots on the
          city.

          Thankfully, there were plenty of tree-shad-
          ed plazas with benches to accommodate
          us when we got a little tired from walking
          uphill. Of course, we couldn’t resist the
          flavored shaved ice (piraguas) sold by the
          street vendor before exploring some more
         — this time, downhill toward the water, to
          Castillo San Felipe del Morro.
          This centuries-old, stone-walled fort, filled
          with tunnels and staircases, was named
          in honor of King Philip II of Spain, and
          guards the entrance to San Juan Bay. Ste-
          ven Spielberg deemed it the perfect setting
          to represent a fort in Sierra Leone in the
          film Amistad. El Morro, as it is commonly
          known, also has plenty of perfect settings
          for tourist photo opportunities (although I
          don’t recommend staying too long to snap
          your pics in one of the peek-hole towers as
          the “eau de urine” smell is overpowering).

          The day we self-toured the fort, bus loads
          of carefree school children were trying their
          hand at kite flying. We got an extra treat
          as we watched colorful kites in dragon, di-
          amond and box shapes dance their way
          across the sky above the expansive grassy
          slope in front of the fort’s entrance.

          Since we planned to leave the next day for
          Ponce, I thought this would be my one op-
          portunity to dig up perfect gifts for my son
          and daughter (my husband, I knew, would
          love the sailing regatta t-shirt I planned to
          purchase in Humacao). Although shopping
          is not my favorite thing to do, I managed to
          make my way through Calle Fortaleza, Calle
          San Francisco and Calle del Cristo, the ma-
          jor streets for buy, buy, buying.
          I slogged through handicrafts galore —
          papier-mâché  fruit  wasn’t  going  to  work,
          handmade ceramics might break, artists
          renderings were too big — and finally saw
          a handmade straw purse that my daughter
          would appreciate and, ideal for my son, a
          custom papier-mâché carnival mask of a ve-
          jigante, a mischevious character who wards
          off evil spirits at Puerto Rico’s carnival
          parades. I scrounged around long enough
          (okay, so maybe I don’t hate shopping as
          much as I think I do) to make a great gift
          discovery for my co-workers — tiny match-
          boxes with meticulous renderings of Old
          San Juan street scenes. Ta-dah!


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