Back at the Cafe St. Germaine, Old San Juan...

Dateline, Old San Juan:

January 17, 2017

It's been a couple of years since I was here last, aimlessly wandering the streets in search of rum smoothies and inspiration.   I thought I had my fill of Old San Juan back then, when I almost burnt myself out spending those few weeks finishing my book "Cinco Calles".  In the end, the only thing that saved me from a complete literary meltdown were the five o'clock, five dollar happy hour mango mojitos and tapas on the third floor cafe of the St. Germaine at the corner of Sol y Cruz.   Here I gently drift into an alternative reality, channelling the zeitgeist of a time and place long gone and for the few hours that it lasted, I was in the zone, at one with the "lost generation", a raffish, Hemmingwayesque wannabe spewing meaningfully meaningless literary blather dressed to impress, masquerading as an exercise in self importance.  Poetry as a selfie of the soul.   So much so, that it brought to mind a poem I had written in the late 90's during my long cushy years of self imposed indentured servitude.

As if to deny their humanity,

the materialists have been heard to ask the question...

Suppose you were to take an infinite number of monkeys,

and place them in front of typewriters

to strike randomly at the keys

for an indefinite period of time,

could one of them product the great American novel,

a sonnet, or at least some mediocre poetry?

Why yes I could answer,

I am that monkey!!!

Now I'm back.  Perhaps you remember the interior photo I took at the St. Germaine back then and posted in the Cinco Calles posting of May 2015...

 For a change, nothing has changed.  Even me.  As luck would have it, they had not yet gotten their delivery of mint leaves for the day and therefore while mango mojitos were on the menu they would not be in our future today.  Had to fall back on a second choice which might have been a first choice anywhere else, the Boozy Colada, which lived up to it's name.  A thick, velvety rum smoothy that, with the help of a floater, got us to where we were going in no time at all.  The veggie centric tapas were few and since I avoid hummus (I am always disappointed by all but mine, since I don't skimp on the lemon and garlic) we shared a flatbread which was good.  As you don't need to be told, the photo below is the heart of the operation.

While it is not readily apparent at first sight, the next shot is actually a selfie of Jackie and I, just the way we like it these days.  If you click on the photo to enlarge it, and look in the mirror on the wall in the middle of the central area on the third floor which was still devoid of other patrons when we got there at 5:30, there we are.

The corner of Cruz y Sol from the window of our table at the Cafe.  Didn't take a picture of the exterior.  Don't know why, but there must have been a good reason that I can't remember right now.

Pablo