By now, Daniel knows the cost of our kind of safari: some near misses, and occasional outright busts that fall far short of their website pictures and promises -- " steps to the beach" or " quaint and cozy." And he dreads the other intangible hassles of striking out stubbornly on our own in a rental car. Like when we got hopelessly lost in a maze-like military-industrial wasteland in Aguadilla in northwest Puerto Rico.
But there was a splendid payoff, or more accurately three payoffs, in exchange for the extra work we put into the trip. We stayed at three of Puerto Rico's "paradores," the network of family-oriented small hotels all along the coastline and in remote towns in the mountainous interior. Each parador we stayed at was dramatically different, adding variety to the journey.
Anyone hoping to find the equivalent of Spain's magnificent chain of paradores in Puerto Rico will be disappointed. The Spanish paradores are built in ancient castles and monasteries, offering exquisite luxury and rich history. The Puerto Rican versions are far more modest, and a lot cheaper -- often less than $100 a night per room.
The Puerto Rican parador system was created in the early 1970s to encourage tourism development in the more remote areas. The commonwealth's tourism agency monitors the paradores for quality and cleanliness, but they are built, owned, and operated by local entrepreneurs. The clientele is largely Puerto Rican, and the paradores are often filled on weekends with people from San Juan and other urban centers. That was exactly what we wanted.
In traveling to the three paradores on our counterclockwise journey around the island, we saw several more. Some, like the Boqueron Beach Inn , look adequate but very ordinary and block-like, so be picky. But to get a sense of the people and the way of life for Boricuas, as Puerto Ricans call themselves, the paradores can be a great way in.
