Puerto Rican Hotel Hopping

Five nights, four hotels, one amazing trip

Walking Old San Juan just after arriving from Atlanta.

For all the men out there planning an anniversary trip, let me save you some trouble: If it's a five-night excursion, try to stay in fewer than four hotels.

As my wife Katy and I prepared to celebrate four years of marriage, we had different desires in mind.

She wanted a beach trip, complete with umbrella drinks and cabana boys. I wanted adventure. We were both looking for a sunny spot where we could experience a different culture.

We settled on Puerto Rico. It's technically in the U.S., being a commonwealth and all, but its people and geography were totally foreign to us as mainlanders. The flights to San Juan were affordable, and the island promised a good mix of outdoor activity and beach bumming. I couldn't wait to dust off my rusty, limited Spanish. Katy packed some books and magazines, preparing to dust off a few beach chairs.

With the destination set, we started working on where to stay and what to do. Katy left most of the planning to me, since I arrange about four overseas trips a year for my work as an international business reporter.

Here's the problem: I only require three things from business hotels - low price, fast Internet and some kind of bed. As I remembered from our honeymoon, making plans for two is much more complex.

I became overwhelmed with all the criteria swimming in my head as I surfed the Web.

I wanted romance without breaking the bank. I wanted a secluded beach that wasn't too far from the city. I wanted to be able to move around the island without feeling rushed. I wracked my brain, talked to Puerto Rican acquaintances and scoured the Internet, hoping to find the perfect mix.

In the end, since all the resorts seemed like equally suitable bases for exploring the capital city, price became a prime factor in San Juan, where we would at least start our journey. Priceline won out, since we could save 50 percent off the going rate on Hotels.com and other sites by naming a price. And with all the added fees that resorts pile on in San Juan, shaving half off the top helped keep these places in our price range.

There was another factor for using Priceline. We were booking two nights at first but figured Priceline would allow us to extend at least one night at the same rate. If we hated our hotel or wanted to venture out into the countryside, we could move on.

This did give us more options, but it also meant I had more chances to mess things up...

Conrad Condado Plaza

Looking west from Conrad Condado Plaza at dusk.

Condado, a trendy district just east of Old San Juan, was the area where the city's resort scene first took root. Its heyday might've been last century, but I saw no lull in activity.

Along Avenida Ashford, locals came out in the waning sunlight to run along the sidewalks. As night fell, cars jammed the main thoroughfare on their way to the area's many restaurants, bars and casinos. Extensive reconstruction in the already bustling district should add even more vitality when completed.

The taxi from the airport dropped us off at the Conrad Condado Plaza (an $18 fare) on a rainy Thursday afternoon around 2 p.m. The check-in was seamless, though the room wasn't ready, and the attendant in a dark lobby seemed to be tolerating more than welcoming us. As the concierge took our bags, we took a $14 cab to Old San Juan to wander around. An hour or so later we got the call indicating our room was ready, right on time.

The ninth-floor room was spacious with a comfortable queen-size bed and a balcony overlooking the city, though there was no outdoor seating. Maybe they figured people with city-view rooms couldn't possibly want to enjoy coffee in breeze coming off the lagoon in the morning.

Inside, the room had a deep red accent wall with a matching L-shaped sofa, dark wood furniture and a white flat-panel TV. An art piece depicting a black-and-white flower was centered above the bed, giving off a very Japanese/modern feel.

I guess it's a matter of taste, but it seemed like the overall decor of the hotel was a bit too modern, as if it were trying to compensate for its age, like an old lady wearing too much makeup. But it was pleasant, and we found the room quite comfortable.

We particularly liked the large bathroom. The glass-encased shower was an unintended anniversary present for me, since Katy hates how I fog up the mirror while she's trying to put on makeup.

A few qualms with this hotel:

-10 percent resort fee, whether or not you make use of resort services

-$16 fee for a spot in the dungeon of a parking garage

-Staff was helpful when you could get them, but the phones seemed to ring a long time. A pile of dirty dishes left by a beach chair in the morning was in the same spot 12 hours later.

-Not the place for a beach getaway. There's only one tiny sliver of public beach adjacent to the hotel, and chairs must be rented.

-No one offered to take our bags to our room. I probably wouldn't have let them, but at least give me the option if you're going to charge a resort fee.

A few bright spots:

-Very close to Old San Juan, though this makes the $14 one-way taxi fare set by

the government seem outrageous. The B21 and C53 buses to the old city stop

in front of the hotel every 20 minutes during the week and every half hour on

weekends. I've read that fares are from $0.50 in exact change if you can stand

the wait.

-Very cheerful and helpful concierge desk, especially Yomary.

-Great pools and nice grounds overlooking the ocean.

-Starbucks downstairs that will deliver coffee to your room.

-Free and fast wi-fi.

Villa Tropical

Sunset on Shacks Beach in front of Villa Tropical.

After two nights in San Juan, we set off for a day of ziplining at Toro Verde Adventure Park in Orocovis and horseback riding on the beach in Isabela, a small town about two hours west of the capital. Since we were driving a lot, I figured we might as well find a charming place to stay on the beach, away from the crowds.

From the reviews on Trip Advisor, Villa Tropical seemed like a winner. It's a hotel split into apartment units right on Shacks Beach between Isabela and Aguadilla, with easy walking and driving access to other beaches.

But once we arrived, it quickly became evident that not all of its units were created equal. The five-star reviews that had drawn my attention came from folks who could watch the sun fade into the ocean from their beachfront decks.

Stupidly, to save a few bucks I chose 1B, a studio on the first floor in the back of the building, above the office and away from the beach. Sure, it had a full kitchen and separate bedroom, but it smelled of age and mildew. The dated bathroom was 1970s yellow and had no hot water. To boot, we were charged a $25 cleaning fee for only staying one night, bringing the price with tax up to $140. That could've bought us a resort room in San Juan at what we were paying.

The words from the lady who handled my booking haunted me: "Your wife will like the one on the beach better," she had said. She was right. As far as Katy was concerned, there was nothing redeeming about my selection, whether or not it was steps away from white sands and a coral reef.

She felt like a mountain climber who comes down too fast from altitude and gets sick. I made a note to never again to slip down the quality scale so quickly.

To be fair, Villa Tropical did have its charms. Trevor, one of the owners, has put together a fantastic, detailed guide to area restaurants and attractions.

Our one sunset was indeed beautiful. The atmosphere was very homey and laid back. We were offered some Coronas from a community cooler downstairs, for instance.

Families were around, but the beach still felt secluded when we spent time there in the morning.

Honestly, I think our disappointment with this property came partly from faulty expectations and the high price that we agreed to pay because we were rushed. If we had expected a low-key surfer's haven and paid half the price, I think we would've had a different feeling altogether.

Ritz-Carlton San Juan

A glimpse of the immaculate grounds of the Ritz-Carlton San Juan.

Redemption is oh-so-sweet. After bombing on Villa Tropical, we skyrocketed up back up the quality ladder when we landed at the Ritz-Carlton San Juan in Isla Verde for our fourth night.

It was our first time at any Ritz property, and it met our expectations. Everyone, from smiling Monique at the front desk to the guy who swathed our (free) beach chairs with towels for us, seemed to be enjoying their job, and they passed on this feeling of satisfaction to the guests.

The luxury was in the little things. We were greeted with fresh papaya juice when we checked in an hour early. We were asked three times if we needed someone to help with our bags. Next to the pools and on the beach were towel stations with urns of lemon- or pineapple-infused ice water. When we headed to the beach the next morning, we found bowls of chilled oranges set out for guests.

The room wasn't overtly opulent. The decor was simple and traditional, and the furniture was nice. The bathroom, filled with grayish-tan marble, was the real star. My only qualm was looking out the window to see the dingy hotel next door, but you get what you pay for with regard to the view.

Probably the most refreshing thing about the Ritz was that although it was the only place where a resort fee was justified, we didn't have to pay one.

And I didn't feel like they were out to nickel and dime me. There was a $17 daily parking fee, but beach chairs and wireless Internet, which I've had to pay for a la carte at inferior hotels, were free of charge. Also free were the services of the staff, who would help set up chairs by the pool or beach. You could even leave your towels on the chair when done, and they would come by and pick them up. (Can you tell I'm not used to luxury travel?)

In short, if we have the budget for it, we'll definitely return to the Ritz if we're in San Juan again.

Gran Melia

La Coca Falls at El Yunque National Forest, near Rio Grande.

Sadly, Hotels.com credit only goes so far, and we had to leave the Ritz after one night, but not before the staff offered to allow us to use the facilities for as long as we wanted for the rest of the day.

After lunch, we headed out to Gran Melia, a golf resort that sits on a peninsula in Rio Grande, which is 30-45 minutes east of San Juan near El Yunque, Puerto Rico's famous rainforest.

We arrived at 5 p.m., an hour after our designated check-in time. When the room wasn't ready, the front desk attendant offered no apology. "Maybe they are behind?" she ventured, without a hint of regret. Luckily the room opened up just as we were heading toward the hospitality room to change and head to the pool.

Gran Melia was an interesting place. It had the feel of a compound where leaving was discouraged. To get to the resort, you drive 10 minutes north from Route 3 on a road that winds through security gates, around fountains and past empty Donald Trump condos, all surrounded by a golf course where no one seemed to be playing. The lack of activity was a bit eerie.

We quickly realized we probably aren't the right clientele for this place, which seemed perfectly suited for business travelers looking for a laid-back rendezvous or families looking to enjoy the beach and the pool. We enjoy a relaxing atmosphere, but we also want to do some things outside the hotel gates.

The rooms were in 19 separate bungalows reached by a short walk or golf-cart ride. Ours was a large suite in Bungalow 18 with a very nice bathroom and big patio. All the floors were a light marble. I can't complain about the room, other than the mattress on the king-size bed. It had no pad and you could feel the mattress pilling beneath the sheets.

The grounds were extensive and include a long, calm beach where we watched the sun sink in to the ocean. With no more chance of tanning, we sought an outdoor hot tub and found the only one was in the spa. Even when it was open, you have to reserve it, but alas, it was closed.

My favorite asthetic aspect of this hotel was the outdoor lobby and the restaurants surrounding the main office. Candles illuminated the area at night, giving it a romantic feel.

Home Sweet Hotel - European vs. American Lodging

Appreciating American convenience after eight nights in seven European hotels

The hours of ironing, the meticulous folding, the careful closure of the suitcase and the cautious slide of the zipper: None of it mattered. When I pulled my suits, shirts and slacks out of the giant red bag I'd brought to Europe, it was clear that I'd need drastic measures to smooth out these pesky wrinkles.

An iron! I thought. My boss was paying more than a hundred dollars for this cramped room in France; certainly they would offer the courtesy of such a mundane device.

I slid open the door to the room's makeshift closet, and they were all there - the whole array of hotel laundry tools - suit hangers with clips, a bar to hang ties on, a full-length mirror. Still, though, no iron.

But I did see something intriguing. It looked like some sort of black, vertically rectangular George Foreman grill mounted on the wall. Its brown cord was loosely attached to an electrical outlet that didn't have the third hole for the grounding prong. I looked at the device quizzically, opening and closing it like the jaws of a toothless, plastic alligator's mouth. The red button on top begged to be pushed. Next to it, I read the words, "Trouser press."

It turns out that the device was pretty intuitive. You slide a pant leg through, fold the press into place, lock it and press the red button. It begins to breathe heat to both sides until your pants become like the buns of a panini being toasted. At least in my hotels in France, Denmark and Sweden, the trouser press gave off enough heat to give that few blissful seconds of leg warmth after putting on the pants, but not enough to actually remove many wrinkles.

And then you have the more obvious problem of what to do now that you have semi-presentable pants and a shirt that looks like it's been through a war. The trouser press is a limited tool, and try as often and as awkwardly as I might, it just wasn't made for pressing shirts.

The trouser press wasn't my only issue with European hotels. In an eight-day trip across France, Denmark and Sweden, I stayed in seven different hotels. It became clear that those frequented by our European friends are not always endowed with the same inalienable conveniences that a lot of American hotels promise.

Take the bathrooms, for instance. Call me lazy, but after a shower I don't enjoy having to walk back down the hallway toward the entryway to go to the bathroom. That's right, my American readers. The toilet in some French hotels is kept in an entirely separate room from the shower, sink and tub. Imagine a coat closet to your left as you walk into your foyer. Now imagine there's a toilet in it. That's just how it is, without the coat rack, of course. And just like a coat closet, there inevitably is no fan in this little restroom. (After all my travels to China, you'd think I'd be grateful for any toilet you can actually rest your behind on, but I digress.)

There are in Europe, however, two separate settings for toilet flushing - a big button and a small one on the wall - which I did find very useful. As a lazy environmentalist, I'm a bit sad that somehow this effortless water-saving adaptation hasn't made its way to the States on a broader scale.

The inconveniences in the Euro hotels didn't end in the bathroom, though, and some nifty flushing gadget couldn't blind me to other shortcomings. After I finished showering, I'd want to chat with my wife. Without a cell phone, I'd use Skype to call home. Skype requires the Internet, so I generally had to either buy three hours of connection for a decent 10-euro price or get gouged for one hour at five euros. This would've been OK at five-star hotels, but everyone knows - well, at least the owners of Quality, Comfort and LaQuinta Inns do - that inexpensive hotels should have free Internet. That's just the way the world should work.

Because of my indignance, I'd refuse the one-hour trap and get suckered into spending three hours talking, twittering, reading and writing. Then I'd need to sleep, which brings me to my next beef with European hotels:

They have no alarm clocks.

People who know me know that alarm clocks are No. 4 on my version of Maslow's hierarchy of needs - food, clothing, shelter, and alarms to remind me to wake up and go after all of the above.

That said, I like to think I'm a relatively savvy traveler, so I realize that it's ultimately my fault if I don't have an alarm clock that will wake me up. I actually have two that I accidentally left at home. The blame is all mine, I admit.

That didn't change the fact that in Sweden and Denmark I had to stuff my Timex watch into my ear canal to make sure that its measly alarm took the edge off of the sleep before the automated wakeup call came from a muted phone came at the programmed time.

Contrast this with my experience in Savannah, Ga., during a business trip two weeks after returning from Sweden. Not only did I have an alarm clock with two separate alarms, noise settings and snooze buttons, but I also had a personalized wakeup call from the clerk at the front desk. When I didn't answer on the first try, she called back to make sure I was awake, and she even acted cheerful about it! I couldn't believe it.

This post isn't intended to rag on European hotels. I had a great time listening to the nightlife out my window at the aptly named Square hotel on Copenhagen's old city. I had an even better time getting to know the joys of the coffee offered as part of a "city breakfast" at the bar in a Parisian Novotel.

As Bill Bryson so humorously showed me in "I'm a Stranger Here Myself," a collection of essays on returning to the U.S. after 20 years in the U.K., America is a wonderful land, but our excessive quest for convenience doesn't always make the most sense if we look at it with fresh eyes.

Then again, as my wife would say, why would we be looking introspectively our habits when we could be watching the Hallmark Channel on our American hotel's wall-mounted flatscreen?

A serious tip: If you're traveling in Europe, especially Denmark, make sure you have at least one credit card that is PIN-activated. I've never used a PIN on my Visa in America, but they demanded one when I was buying train tickets and hotel rooms. Good thing I had my debit card too. Anyone have any thoughts on whether there's a way to get around the PIN requirement in these places?

Country Inn and Suites - Amador

Looking for an immaculate room with aesthetic upgrades on your trip to Panama City, Panama? Then don't stop here.

But if location, service and price are your main concerns, the Country Inn and Suites at Amador is the place to be.

The rooms aren't much to look at, and they're not near as posh as what you'll get at the Marriott. No Ralph Lauren linens or Sleep Number beds await weary travelers after their flight.

But the rooms are amply sized for the price. I paid $125 per night for a springy king bed, sleeper sofa and - count 'em - two TVs. Wireless Internet was free, albeit a bit slow, and the minibar was well stocked. Breakfast was much better than the average continental fare in American budget hotels, and the coffee was tasty and fresh. The room interior was generally on par or a little better than what you get at the average hotel in America. Despite its unremarkable inside, intangibles are where this place shines.

The hotel is situated at the mouth of the Panama Canal, where it runs into the Pacific Ocean. A walking trail runs just outside the fenced pool area behind the hotel grounds, offering great views of the picturesque landscape. Jump the fence and you can walk all the way out on the Amador Causeway, a narrow strip of land constructed by piles of dredged earth from the Canal excavation 100 years ago. The Causeway links the mainland with two islands and tourists with their choice of a variety of restaurants. If you're in the mood to covet, go to the end of the strip and watch the yachts come in.

The Puente de Las Americas (Bridge of the Americas) is in full view from balconies of rooms with a canal view, and boats traverse the Canal day and night on the way through the locks and to and from the Port of Balboa. This is particularly interesting to watch after the sun sets, as giant barges inch their way into the darkness, floating silently like blimps on the water, their little guide lamps the only sign of their formidable presence.

A TGI Friday's is attached to the hotel, and if you don't talk too much to the wait staff, you could really pretend you're in America. To avoid the tourist trap at dinner time, go to the Causeway, or take a cab east toward the center of town. If you do happen to hit the TGI Friday's, go local with the fried calamari appetizer washed down with a Balboa beer. The waitress says Balboa is stronger than Panama Cerveza, the country's flagship brew.

Service is one of this Country Inn's best qualities. The staff speaks English very well and was very charming and willing to help tourists. Great maps of the city are available at the front desk and the drivers outside are always looking to get some business.

Tips for getting the most out of this hotel:

-Try to get a room with a canal view. I think they're priced a little bit higher, but if you're a balcony sitter, you'll think it's worth it. Can't get a view? Check out the cozy pool area and get your views from there. Use the extra money to splurge on a great meal.

-The walls are a bit thin. Sound carries through walls, and you know what that sometimes means.

-There are two types of taxi drivers in Panama - ones that have license to drive up to the entrance of the hotel, and those who don't. The CI&S is back from the main road. Ignore the drivers right outside the door that try to take you in their large white vans. Walk a few extra steps out to the street, to the smaller cabs, and you'll probably pay half of the tourist rate charged by the van guys. But utilize the van guys for scheduled trips.

-Keep in mind, the CI&S Amador is farther away from the airport than a lot of other hotels, but it's extremely quiet, a stark contrast from downtown. And the air is extremely fresh as it blows in from the water.

Photo: Bridge of the Americas at sunset from behind the hotel. Copyright Trevor Williams 2008.