We finally arrive in Delhi just before 6 in the morning, and for a big city airport, things are surprisingly quiet. This is always a good sign, as it usually translates to short lines at immigration, and by 6:45 we are already in a cab and on our way to the hotel.

At this time of day, it’s still dark outside, so we see little of what the city holds in store for us, but our plan is to spend just one day here, so even though we are running on little sleep, we more or less drop our bags off, eat some breakfast and head back out the door to wedge in a bit of sightseeing.

With the sun now up, the full weight of the city assaults our senses. It’s hard to describe, other than to say that somehow, Delhi manages to take the very worst of the big cities that we have been to and combines them into one exquisite package. The smog of Beijing, garbage of Cairo, beggars of Mexico City, and traffic of Athens, are all on display. It’s repulsive and engaging all at the same time, like the train wreck you just can’t look away from.

While the concierge has highlighted a number of things to see in the city, our limited schedule has us focused on just a few. The first is the Red Fort, which served as the seat of power for the Mughal empire in the 1850s. It’s 45 minutes away in noisy, congested traffic, or 20 minutes on the subway, so underground we go.

The subways in India reserve a few cars for women only (optional, not required), which combined with her unparalleled visual appeal, makes Ang quite popular with the local roosters, who stare like it’s a Victoria’s Secret photo shoot. Also joining us on the train is Booger, from the Bollywood version of Revenge of the Nerds, who, when not ogling my wife (and sometimes when he is), spends the entire trip deep drilling for treasure. If you’ve never experienced a grown man picking his nose with two hands at the same time, it really is a special treat.

The fort itself is interesting, but we’ve been spoiled by the scale of places like the Forbidden City which takes away some of the excitement. We have also read that a better example of this style of fort sits in Agra, so it’s a little like trying to get fired up about Canadian football when you know the NFL will be on the next day. The smog makes all of my pictures look depressing, so this one I clipped from the Internet.

The only other spot we have on our list is Connaught Place, which is more or less the city center, and supposedly a great place to find food and some shopping. We don’t really end up with either, and despite knowing better, fall once again for the Thai tuk-tuk scam. We do tempt fate with a few pieces of street food, but keep to the fairly safe, deep-fried food group for now.

By 5:30 we are back in hotel and pretty close to comatose. Crashing that early goes against all our instincts in trying to adjust to the time change, but our train to Agra leaves at 6 in the morning, so we rationalize the need to be up early for that and its lights out.

Although it has consumed literally our entire first day (and then some), there isn’t much to report from our travel between Seattle to New Delhi. There was a time, when we first started these annual adventures, where the novelty of crossing the Pacific for some far off destination was enough to make the flight part of the experience, but nowadays it’s mostly just a means to an end. However, there is no better opportunity than 21 hours locked in a metal tube to catch up on movies that have come and gone, and by the time we are on our last leg (Singapore to Delhi), I am far enough down the list that a story about a 35 year old man and his talking teddy bear is sounding pretty good (spoiler alert – it wasn’t).

While it seems like the gods have been conspiring against this trip since the beginning (too many stories of rescheduling, visa problems, and injuries to recount here), we once again find ourselves in our usual state of semi-panic the night before the flight. Unlike some recent trips, the advice for India has been to book ahead, so while there are a few gaps that we will fill as we go along, overall we have a pretty good idea of where we will be going (all 22,000 miles) and when.

The Cliff’s Notes version is: Agra (Taj Mahal), Rajasthan, and Goa, which should be a good mix of sightseeing and lazy beach time. As always, the plan is to keep a written record (to remind us of where we’ve been when our memories start to fail), so I hope to be more diligent this time around that proved to be the case in Puerto Rico, which admittedly, I just finished and posted some six months late…

The time has come once again to return to our normal lives back in Redmond, so after a last family breakfast at the hotel, it’s off to the airport. The flight back home goes through Miami, then San Francisco, and finally Seattle, arriving close to midnight (add in waiting for the luggage, shuttle to pick up the car, and the drive back home). With three kids that sounds really fantastic, so I am more than a little upset about having to miss it to fly to New York. I suppose I’ll have to console myself with a real dinner (instead of a nasty sandwich) and a good night’s sleep.

And with that, another Roberts family adventure comes to an end.

I wake up this morning with a deep fried food baby just sitting in the pit of my stomach. It’s a powerful reminder of the folly of all you can eat deals, and I vow never to forget how nasty it feels (which of course is the same vow I took the last time I did the very same thing). The upshot, I suppose, is that I feel absolutely no need to figure out what to do for breakfast.

It is our last full day here and I’d feel like it was wasted if we just lay around, so we decide to rally and find a last minute adventure. It’s late in the morning, so most of the organized events are already underway, but we find a couple of places that will let us do a later start for ziplining. One clearly sounds more appealing than the other, but is 2 hours away in the mountains on the west end of the island. The boys are up for the drive though, and given the amount of cash involved with 5 people, it seems a shame to settle for mediocre, so we load up the rental car for one last long-range road trip and head out.

All goes well until we get to the last 10 or so miles of the journey. Up in the mountains, the roads are incredibly twisty, which makes my passengers a bit queasy. We’re happy to see the sign for the turnoff and get onto something a bit straighter, but soon find what this road is lacking in turns, it more than makes up for in potholes, blind corners, and crests so steep than when you drive over the peak, its like going off the edge of a cliff. The boys are now having a blast – my navigator not so much, letting slip an F-bomb as we go up and over the worst peak, honking our horn the whole time just in case some other poor soul is doing the exact same thing on the other side.

Given the zipline trip we did in Hawaii, I didn’t go in with the highest expectations, but in comparison, this one was light years more fun. Part of it was certainly due to the lines being longer and the terrain more rugged, but an equal part was attributable to the guides, who did a fantastic job of keeping us entertained throughout, while teaching us about the history of the area. Much to Sam’s delight, the guide’s stubby-legged dog also joins in, following the tour and chasing people as they zip overhead.

The adventure also includes a bit of rappelling (props to Ang for totally crushing her first rappel), and a short boat trip through a nearby cave. Altogether (and with the drive), it makes for a full day, and a great way to end our time in Puerto Rico (hat tip to Batey Zipline Adventure).

We know we’ve discovered a good spot when the boys wake up asking if we can go back to Carlos’ place. There really isn’t anything else we have left on our must see list, so after some breakfast, we pack up a bag and head back towards El Yunque. Since it’s a weekday, the place is even more deserted than it was the last time around, and after a short hike in from the road (passing a work crew of convicts on their way out, which gets Ang all squirrelly), we find it completely deserted. The rope swing, the calm pools for swimming, and acres of boulders for scrambling, all for us.

We spend about 4 hours in pure tranquility before finally tearing ourselves away to find some cell coverage (who keeps scheduling these conference calls?) and then a late lunch. As with La Mina, our timing is once again perfect, and after spending a huge chunk of the day in complete solitude, we pass not one, but two tour groups heading down the trail to overrun our tiny slice of paradise.

Ultimately, we make our way back to Luquillo Beach, this time not for the food shacks, but to actually check out the beach itself, which our guide book says is one of the best in Puerto Rico. It is an amazing bay with calm water and wide stretches of sand, but sadly, seems poorly maintained as there are plastic bags, empty water bottles, and other pieces of garbage everywhere. Maybe we just picked a particularly bad time – after the weekend horde but before the clean up crews arrive – but from what I see here, the beach in front of the Hilton kicks this one’s butt.

Speaking of our hotel, at the top there is a restaurant called Brother Jimmy’s that serves barbeque. The boys have talked about it pretty much every day since we arrived here, and are fascinated by the all you can eat wings they have on the menu tonight. Nick, in particular, figures he can eat his weight in wings, so why not? It’s a vacation after all and it’s almost over, so we pile in the elevator and head on up.

60 minutes later, we’re riding back down with a full on case of the meat sweats. I wouldn’t say it’s anywhere near the best food we’ve had here (in fact it probably doesn’t make it much beyond average), but I’m all about the value, so once the money is committed, success is measured purely by volume, and I think we held our own there.

On a positive note, there is surprisingly little resistance to laying down and going to sleep. As tomorrow is our last full day, it’s probably all for the best as a good night’s rest should make rallying the troops in the morning a little easier (pre-teen boy aside).

After a couple of active days, we decide to relax a bit and play this one close to home. There must be a fresh load of tourists in, as even though I am at the pool by 7:30, most of the best squats are gone (or, more accurately, marked with stuff, as it’s pretty much just me and the pool boy). I manage to find a space around one of the smaller pools and get a few hours of Kindle time in before the boys finally show up. They aren’t down long though before the skies open up and it starts to pour.

Nothing clears out pool chair squatters better than a good rainstorm, so while Angela and I ride things out in the hot tub, the rest of the people scatter like roaches when the lights go on. When the clouds break and the sun comes back out, we could have our pick of spots, but it seems like too much effort to relocate. Other people are not so lazy however, so as things start to fill back up, we get a new set of neighbors, who decide they have a tremendous amount in common with the couple next to them and start in on a conversation that will take the rest of the afternoon.

As the day progresses and the empty beer cans pile up, things get increasingly louder, and significantly more obnoxious. I can’t do the whiney East Coast accent justice, but a few snippets that are burned into my memory:

“Well I do speak Italian because I lived there for a year. And when I go back to see my friend Francesca, we stay in her apartment which is small, but right across the street from where Lady Di used to stay.”

“My German isn’t nearly as good as my Italian, but I met a German couple in the elevator and noticed she had a Prada bag, so I had to ask her where she got it”

Is it evil to wish bad things on someone, even if they are really, really getting on your nerves?

Fresh off our successful adventure yesterday, we are back in the car today headed east to El Yunque (the highest peak on the island). The whole area is a national park, so we first stop at the information center to get a sense for what there is to see. There are some maps with a number of points of interest, but the highlight for me is the Soup Nazi of a man sitting behind the counter, going through his monotone pitch (that he is clearly just mailing in), and finishing up with a Fez-worthy “Good Day!”.

One of the most popular stops in the park is the La Mina waterfall (the first picture . It’s about a half-mile hike in from the road, but if waterfalls are your thing (I’m a fan, Angela, not so much), swimming in the cool water and in behind the falls themselves is a nice respite from the humid jungle. Our timing is also impeccable as the tour groups start arriving en masse just as we are finishing up.

Back in the car we drive a bit further up the mountain to a smaller tourist station and decide to hike a few trails. A good half mile in, Joey declares that his body is all finished with what is left of his Pinchos – now. The options are pretty slim in the jungle when you’re a good 20 minutes from the nearest facilities, so what better time for a life lesson on the utility of leaves (and the dangers of choosing poorly).

Crisis averted, we head back down to the tourist station, where Mom gets some new tips from a much more enthusiastic park ranger named Carlos. He tells us of a place back down the mountain that the locals go, where there is a river deep enough for swimming and a rope swing for the kids. The top of El Yunque is socked in with clouds and doesn’t show much promise of clearing up, so we opt to take Carlos up on his advice and head down.

It takes a bit of trying to find the spot (after our first attempt is aborted to get more gas), but it definitely lives up to expectations. The boys have an absolute blast, and we end up staying the rest of the afternoon, playing in the water, swinging on the rope, and playing on the rocks. By the time we are finally ready to leave, we’re about the only ones left.

On the hike back to the car, Sam tells me he is such a fan of Carlos that he is going to tattoo his name on his shoulder. Fortunately, he’s 9 and with his parents, because a 20 year old Sammy on Spring Break with his buddies might wake up with some regrets.

On the docket today is a trip to the west side of the island, with stops at Camuy Caves and Arecibo. The first is part of an extensive cave network carved through the mountains of Puerto Rico by underground rivers grinding their way through the limestone. The second is home to the world’s largest radio telescope, made famous (for non-nerds (amongst whom it was already famous just for being the world’s largest radio telescope) anyway) in the final scenes of GoldenEye and the movie Contact.

The drive to the caves takes about 90 minutes, in part because we miss a few turns and do some doubling back. It’s the shoulder season here tourism-wise, so the good news is that there aren’t really any crowds to speak of (based on the size of the parking lot, I want to be nowhere near this place on a busy day). The bad news is that the one group of people that are in line are part of a high school field trip.

The caves themselves are quite impressive, but my travel buddy and I have seen this kind of thing before (Halong Bay comes to mind, but I’m sure there are others), so the real treat is seeing how the kids react when they walk into a cavern eight stories tall and the size of several football fields. They quickly rate it the coolest thing they have seen on the trip so far (except for Nick, who I think still votes shark). The tour guide does a good job explaining the different formations, and through some careful positioning at the very front of the group, we get enough separation from the high school class that the noise doesn’t even really bother us.

By the time we are on the road back toward Arecibo (which we passed on the way up), it is close to lunch time, so we pick one of the many roadside stands we see and partake of some pinchos. We’ve located one of the more upscale stands so are able this time around to have our pinchos with one of three different sauces. It’s too hard to decide, so we just take two of each for good measure. They are all quite tasty, but gorged with chicken parts, we will soon come to learn that garlic sauce and a car with the windows up do not make a good combination.

Arriving at the telescope, we are again pleased to see the parking lot fairly empty. In addition to the many buildings filled with people in white coats, there is fairly good visitor center with a bunch of exhibits about space, astronomy and the science behind how the telescope works. It’s a bit of a mental overload for a family on vacation, and after a while my head starts to hurt from too much knowledge. We take a break by watching a short movie about the construction of the telescope and then a taking a quick, guided tour to see it close up (or as close as they let you get anyway). The whole thing is impressive just given its scale, but combined with its location – wedged between three jungle covered mountain peaks – it does seem a little surreal.

We finish up without too much time to spare, as not far into the drive back it starts to rain. Not that sissy kind of Seattle rain that just slowly eats away at your soul, but the tropical kind of rain that makes you think about building an ark. But just as quickly as it arrives, it disappears, leaving only clear blue sky.

Having learned our lessons in the morning, the drive back to the hotel goes a little more smoothly. The kids, suffering from a whole day without TV or an iPad quickly revert to their zombie-like state until we finally cut them off and shepherd them into bed. All in all, a good day.

It’s a beach day today, and having been through the drill before at resorts like this, I know enough to get down early or risk getting stuck with deck chairs either by the men’s room or the kiddie pool (or both). I have a little too much conscience than to get up early, dump some crap on a chair and then go back to bed, but even at 7:30 am, people (who will ultimately not stroll down again until noon) have marked their territory.

There is no guilt in our family about sending Dad downstairs alone before the sun rises, and in practice, it turns out to be a good time to catch up on work-related things. I’ve heard people speak of mystical vacations where you don’t spend part of each day dealing with email and doing conference calls, but I think they’re just yanking my chain.

Once the kids show up, our day consists of little more than alternating between pool and beach. Sam and Joey try some body surfing, and end up stalking some poor lady and her daughter, telling them all about the waves in Hawaii and how they tamed them.

As the sun starts to set, we rally enough energy to get in the car in search of a Costco. The goal is to load up on some beach snacks and hopefully also find a replacement charger for the video camera, as the one we brought is for one of the models we have long since broken. The kids sing along to Weird Al all the way, which Mom would probably report is the high point of her vacation.
Tomorrow we have a road trip planned, so after a bit of TV (and some cheap drinks from the $8 bottle of rum) its time to call it a day.