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March 27, 2013
Newsletters / March 27, 2013

March 27, 2013

The last time I vacationed in the Carribbean, I spent most of the week with my burning cheeks pressed to the cool tile floor of the bathroom in our overpriced hotel. Never found out for sure what I ingested to make me so sick, but here’s what I know. It was wrong. That was 5 years ago and I haven’t been back. Besides, I’m too much of a type A for a beach vacation. I run out of things to do. All that changed when I tore my ACL over Christmas. All of a sudden, sitting on a stretch of white sand, gazing at azure waters and falling asleep to the sound of crashing waves, sounded very, very good. So we headed to Vieques, a teeny isle off Puerto Rico.
Try as I might to find fault with the W Hotel: (Why only two drawers?  Where were the light switches?  How do you drain the bath? And WHERE was the bathroom door?) I couldn’t find a thing really worth kvetching about. The rooms are enormous. The beds are delicious. The views are crazy. Puerto Rican food is yummy. The hotel was full but never felt crowded. The beaches on Vieques are picture perfect: white sand, turquoise water and barely a soul on them. Wild horses wander around like deer in Lyme. It’s a direct flight from Hartford to San Juan and a 20 minute puddle jump to the island. There is nothing to do. And I loved it. Read more about Vieques here. 

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