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We only had a single puddle jumper flight back to Providenciales (no stop in Grand Turk this time), which meant that we got to spend a couple hours in the airport. We had lunch there and did a little souvenir shopping. My credit card decided to decline my $30 souvenir purchase, after having okayed huge charges for renting a house and paying for five days of scuba diving. Go figure.
Our flight to Puerto Rico touched down in the Dominican Republic for a few minutes, and then continued on to San Juan, where we had to wait a while for them to pull around some steps so we could disembark. We (the six or so passengers and three crew) entered the airport through a sketchy back door, and then headed up to Immigration and Customs. I breezed through the Global Entry kiosk, and went to claim my checked bag (we'd bought some rum in Salt Cay, so we couldn't carry it on) while Adrienne waited in the Immigration line.
Nobody at the baggage claim had ever heard of the airline we'd flown, much less the flight we were on, and it was only because a nice official started asking around that I discovered that the luggage from the flight had been placed off to the side, rather than on a baggage carousel.
Renting a car went pretty smoothly, and Adrienne drove us into Old San Juan, where we faced a minor adventure, first just finding the place we were staying (which has no sign, and only a vague address), and then parking (precariously backwards, on a rocky area between the road and a 6 foot drop).
We were pretty hungry at this point, since we'd had only a late breakfast in the Providenciales airport, and no lunch. Unfortunately, the restaurants that Adrienne had highlighted in the guidebook turned out to be either mysteriously absent or closed, and the street of restaurants that our hotel's receptionist had circled on our map turned out to have no restaurants on it. We eventually found a tasty Italian place and then returned to our hotel and crashed.
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