Preliminary musings on our trip to Puerto Rico:

1. Even though I am definitely a "beach person," eight consecutive days on the beach is just too much, especially when it is humid and the wind is kicking the beautiful fine white sand into your eyes.
   
   
2. Speaking of humid, why did I not think it was going to be humid? For some reason, I was imagining dry heat. Was I ever wrong. This made the few pairs of pants and shirts with sleeves that I packed utterly useless.
   
   
3. 6 pairs of shoes - definitely too many. As predicted, I only ended up wearing the flipflops during the day, and the slingbacks at night. Also, as expected, crankypants only brought 3 pairs, and made fun of the fact that I had so many.
   
   
4. Let's get back to the sand. Not only does it blow everywhere, it sticks to you like glue. No amount of brushing will get it off, you have to flick at each individual grain one by one numerous times. Needless to say, this got tiring after awhile and I'd just get into bed with sandy feet. This was fine, because I managed to make all the sand get on crankypants's side of the bed, leaving me sand-free but leaving him with the illusion that he was still sleeping on the beach. He did not find this amusing. However, I did.
   
   
5. The drivers on Puerto Rico are maniacs. It's like driving in Boston, but ten times worse, if that's imaginable. They don't follow any traffic rules, and this is not helped by the fact that many of the roads are a) unpaved, b) if paved, ridded with potholes, c) have no lane markings whatsoever, d) are sized for Mini Coopers, or e) any combination of the above.
   
   
6. There is this one fantastic radio station, La Mega, that quite honestly has only 10 songs on their playlist, which they repeat over and over and over again. Guaranteed, you will hear Jessica Simpson, some Outkast song about poo-poo, Maroon 5, Justin Timberlake, and Limp Bizkit at least 5 times a day. They also have these deejays with the most obnoxious laughs, who are inexplicably fond of this game called "Guess what I'm thinking!" No joke. "Guess a number between 400 and 500!" People will call in with their guesses, which will range anywhere from 0-1000. As nobody has guessed the answer, they'll narrow it down to "Guess a number between 400 and 450!" Callers' answers again range from 0-1000. "Guess a number between 400 and 405!" Now, you think at this point that there are only FIVE possibilities and that the game can only last another 2 minutes, tops. You are so wrong. Again, guesses will range from 0-1000. This will go on for another 30 minutes as people will re-guess numbers already guessed and will not recognise the fact that they only have 5 options. Variations include: "Guess what animal I'm thinking of!", "Guess what 80s pop star I'm thinking of!" and "Guess what car I'm thinking of!"
   
   
7. The bugs are evil there. I ultimately counted 24 bugbites, from at least 3 different types of bugs. I look like I'm carrying some disease - the USDA should have been checking me for bugs, not my luggage. I swear I now have dengue fever. Plus they itch like nothing else, and I naturally take great glee in mournfully announcing my utter pain. Combine this with the fact that I have these mysterious bruises on my arm, it looks like crankypants has been abusing me, which I like to point out often.
   
   
8. It is a small miracle, but there was no shopping done there at all. Nothing. Seems like a week on the beach is good - no, excellent - for my budget.
   
   
9. There are So Many cute dogs on the island, and they're all remarkably good-natured. There was the black one who would sleep underneath my beach chair. There was the golden retriever who would follow us up and down the beach at Ocean Park. There was the adorable chow mix who followed us up and down the beach on Culebra. But my favourites were those belonging to the house down the street from the hotel - three positively adorable little white dogs, each a different breed but each white and fluffy and so cuuuute. They loved me, I know. Especially since I would go talk to them every day. Crankypants thought this was very amusing, in a sort of indulgent "it's okay you're nuts" sort of way.

But now I am back, and already desperately missing the beach. My new goal in life is to open up a hole-in-the-wall beach bar, way off the beaten track, and open only when people happen to find it. It would be the perfect idyllic life. Quite like living in Margaritaville.