English in the US

As a Briton, this is only my third visit to the USA. My first experience was of central Florida, where the waitresses were made up as if they’d stepped off a TV film set and God was everything, second only to the motor car. My second experience had been in the crumbling backwater that is Pacific Guam. Puerto Rico seems to offer the best in US culture coupled with a perfect climate.

Suddenly, we have large, cheap supermarkets again. Items such as eggs and red meat are not only cheap, but half the price we pay in the UK (eggs are $2 a dozen and Angus steaks $2.79 per pound). However, it is hard to track down any European-style bread or bakery products. The Americans prefer their sickly sweet batch loaves, unfeasibly long-life hotdog buns and donuts to croissants and baguettes here. Bizarrely, Americans seem to swing between eating extremes – most packaged foods vie with each other for the lowest fat content, whilst the freezer section is full of beef patties, popcorn shrimps and high-fat processed potato products.

Again, the car is king. Fuel is oddly sold per litre (and retails about $1 per litre for ‘gas’ or diesel) and sidewalks are the exception outside the old city. We need to navigate several blocks from the marina to the Pueblo supermarket, including crossing three major highways and walking through a highway underpass. None of these busy multi-lane roads has any sidewalk or pedestrian crossing, nor a bridge or underpass, so we have to dash between the Chevvies and Mustangs with our groceries. Similarly, there is a sidewalk along the harbour waterfront into town but no crossings or sidewalks to move to the Atlantic coast where the beaches are. Again, we cross several highways loaded down with masks and snorkels to reach them.

Even Elizabeth has commented on the population. The residents are primarily Hispanics with very few Afro-Caribbeans. Accents seem to be 70% Spanish but then you get surprised by a through-and-through all-American reply. The school groups we encounter seem to speak less American than the adults and in the suburbs we only really hear Spanish.

The local taxi driver told us more about everyday life in San Juan. Down the coast from us is the district of the wealthy where gated mansions sweep down to the private beaches of pristine sand. Closer in are the areas of apartments where the middle classes life. Then, on the outskirts of the old city are the less attractive tenements where the poorer folks can rent a room for just $25 per month if they qualify. The old city itself if very chic and desirable, with lots of apartments being spruced up and renovated, presumably to demand high rents from executives and Government officials.

Tourism is obviously important, especially when the cruise ships are in port. Again, the locals tell us that bars never display their beer prices in old San Juan so they can charge a tourist $6 a beer whilst the locals only pay $1.50. Across the bay is the massive Bacardi factory churning out 100,000 bottles per day and looking more like a chemical processing plant.

It’s been quite fun to wear our faded and torn boat clothes around town. We are obviously not cruise ship passengers and so the tourist touts tend to leave us alone whilst the locals are keen to engage us. The crew aboard The Amistad were happy for us to come alongside in the rib and then even gave us a complimentary guided tour. She is a true working replica run as a charity and requires many hours work from many strong hands. In contrast, a steel-hulled replica Spanish galleon arrived from Malaga under power and is charging $8 a tour before she leaves next weekend.