Kites, Coquis and a Puerto Rican Sea Urchin.

Some of the best moments while traveling are the grand ones: seeing the Eiffel Tour lit up at night, sailing crystal blue Caribbean waters for the first time, or climbing the steps of Mayan ruins. But often we forget about the ones we never plan on experiencing. I've found that some of the most memorable moments in travel are the ones you least expect. And when those moments happen, you realize that sometimes, everything really does happen for a reason.

My boyfriend and I touch down in Puerto Rico without many plans, but with reservations to three strikingly different hotels meant to give us the best spectrum of Puerto Rico that we can get in only one week. The minute the humid Caribbean air hits our faces, we know we're finally on vacation and it's going to be good. And it is. We want to get to know the real Puerto Rico and our first hotel, El Convento, doesn't disappoint. A beautiful converted convent (as its name implies) in the heart of Old San Juan, it's ideally situated in close proximity to everything we could possibly want to see in this part of town. At one o'clock in the morning, after a long flight, the first thing that comes to mind is: food! For us, this is one of the most important aspects for experiencing a new place: what are the local specialties and what makes them good. Luckily, we're mere steps away from a variety of restaurants and bars, and stumble into a small stand selling what has to be the Puerto Rican version of bar food. Perfect for those late nights after a few too many rounds of drinks, or in this case jet lag, it's fried, skewered and yummy. Satisfied, we make our way back to the hotel, our expectations now set high: we're going to like it here. And we're going to eat well.

Being an avid traveler, but not having the opportunity to travel for quite some time, I wake up the next morning itching for one of those grand moments. When would it be, where would it be and what would it be? High on my list of must-sees is the 16th Century fort, El Morro. I have high hopes for this historical building. Positioned on a rocky ledge overlooking the Atlantic Ocean, it is the subject of many picturesque postcards that get mailed from San Juan everyday. Before we go, we decide we have to eat first. Would this be it, our first real Puerto Rican meal? Snacks from the stand the night before don't quite count. El Picoteo, the tapas restaurant overlooking the courtyard, provides us with a variety of tasty snacks that add up to a meal. The gambas al ajillo (shrimp in garlic sauce) and the Escalivada (marinated vegetables) are refreshing and enjoyable, but don't pack the punch we're hoping for. Instead, I'm anxious to go in search of my big site-seeing moment. We start out on the streets of Old San Juan along with the throng of tourists fresh off the cruise ships docked in the harbor. Although quaint and cute, shopping for souvenirs isn't quite how I like to spend my vacations. I'm here, I'm ready, and I want to see something awe-inspiring. We stop for coffee. Okay, it's good, a bit strong, but it's not what I'm looking for. I mention again, that with only a couple days in each place, I'd like to head for the fort. We walk up the hill, past our hotel, and the fort finally spreads out before us, just as picturesque as all those postcards. But something else catches our attention: not the view, not the historical element, but the number of people flying kites along the vast, grassy expanse that leads to the entrance of the fort. Even more intriguing is how high the kites are flying. We promptly pay three dollars for our kite at a stand nearby and take to the green. The wind off the ocean hits our blue plastic kite and carries it high into the sky. We can pass it off back and forth, run with it, stand with it, or just sit back, relax and watch it. This kite doesn?t take a nose-dive or struggle to break free. I feel like an eight-year-old kid without a care in the world holding on to that string. I haven't felt that way in ages.

The following day, more site-seeing is in store. The trip to the Bacardi factory in Cataño, just a ferry ride across the bay, came highly recommended to me by more than one source. Two free drinks! Sure, why not. But ultimately, apart from being a great place to pick up souvenirs for the folks back home, for the two of us it leaves much to be desired. No real Puerto Rico here. Visitors get off the ferry, get in the taxi that takes you to Casa Bacardi and then back again. But a few steps off the main road and we're in the town of Cataño without a souvenir shop to be found. Still on our quest to take part in authentic Puerto Rican cuisine, we happen upon a neighborhood restaurant called El Relleno Sabroso. A small restaurant on the first floor of a house, we feel like we are being fed a homemade meal of the house specialty: rellenos de papa (mashed potatoes stuffed with your choice of meat). We choose to stuff it with shrimp. One taste and we know we've wandered into the right place. We leave Cataño and Old San Juan satisfied, but longing for more.

You can't go to Puerto Rico without visiting the national rainforest, El Yunque. True, you can take day trips from San Juan, but we knew we wanted to feel like we'd stayed within it. Fortunately, I found a bed and breakfast that let us do just that. The Casa Cubuy sits at the end of a long, winding road up, up and up into the rainforest. Even though there are other houses around and other lodgers at the hotel, you feel like you've found your own personal part of the rainforest. Surrounded by nothing but trees of all varieties, we take the hiking trail that leads us directly to a river running over rocks into natural pools. Standing in the natural pools looking up into the blanket of green that covers the hills, we truly have escaped the big city, the small towns and everything in between. After a day of sunbathing on the river rocks, he goes to bed with the requisite Caribbean vacation sunburn. What more can you ask for from a vacation? But something drives us to explore more of the rainforest. Still in search of one those big vacation moments we can relate to our friends later, we drive to the opposite side of El Yunque to the main entrance. Again, I had it on good authority that one of the paved hiking trails leads to a must-see location: the Las Minas waterfall. Well-organized and easy to follow, these trails are a perfect way to walk through the forest. But after having to step aside for more than one large tour group, we find ourselves missing the privacy of the trails and pools at our humble hotel. We finally reach the waterfall and, though impressive and a nice reward for the end of our hike, it somehow doesn't rival our sunny afternoon on the river rocks. We know at that point we want to go back to the Puerto Rico we had found and begun to adore. On the way back, rather than stop for dinner at one of the many strip malls or Burger Kings (and there are many Burger Kings) along the road, we make our way to a little seaside town recommended by our fellow lodgers, Naguabo. And there, at a little restaurant overlooking the water, El Makito, we finally find it: authentic, amazing Puerto Rican seafood. He has a dish with every seafood imaginable and I have the shrimp. We're hooked. Being from Los Angeles, we're exposed to fresh seafood everyday. But somehow, it tastes fresher here. More succulent. More refreshing. We know from that point on we will only eat seafood for the rest of the trip. We will get as much as we can before we have to leave it behind. That night we are lulled to sleep by the sound of the coqui frogs and the waterfalls.

Which brings us to the next day and our last location in Puerto Rico, one of those huge resorts on the coast with it's own private island, several restaurants, several shops and all the amenities. This is the place for the beach portion of our trip and the environment is beautiful, but nothing feels real here. Isolated from anything resembling the Puerto Rico we have experienced up until this point, we no longer have convenient access to our newfound love of Puerto Rican seafood. All the restaurants are overpriced, underwhelming and homogenized. Determined to have a repeat performance of the night before, we head out of the complex. But after only passing several Burger Kings and a series of other fast food restaurants, at ten o'clock at night, we finally settle for Pizza Hut. Pizza Hut! We resign ourselves to the fact that we will never again have Puerto Rican seafood, even though we're still there.

The next day, as the end of our vacation looms before us, we set out for the private island and a day of snorkeling. Never having been snorkeling, it takes me a little while to understand the concept of being able to have most of my head underwater while still being able to breath. But once I get it, I discover what all the fuss is about. Coral reefs, bright blue fish and large groups of tiny yellow fish only inches away! Off in the not-so-far distance is an honest to goodness deserted island. Yes, tourists visit it everyday by kayak or simply swimming, but it still really is a deserted island. As novice snorkelers, we wonder if we can make it the twenty minutes to and from the island. I duck my head in the water and flap my flippers in the direction of our destination. That's when I hear it. The screaming: "My foot! My foot!" I have never heard such a sound out of my boyfriend's mouth. There is pain behind it. "Which foot?" I ask in alarm. "Ahhhhhh, my other foot!" Not knowing what had now gotten both of his feet, all I know is that we have to get him back to shore.

Being one of those people with an overactive imagination, I'm picturing emergency rooms, doctors and the need for some sort of antidote to the poisonous being who managed to cause one of us harm. We somehow make it back to shore fairly quickly, his face still scrunched up in pain. After pulling off his flippers, he proceeds to pull an inch-long, black spine out of his heel. A local man and his son run up to help us. Upon seeing the spine along with the other twenty lodged too deep in his heel to even pull out, the man reveals the identity of our attacker: the sea urchin. Not poisonous, but certainly nasty enough, a sea urchin is more or less a ball of spikes. The pain will pass and the spines will come out on their own. The son assures us his father, the former surfer, has had countless run-ins with them and has always come out okay. A Puerto Rican woman wearing a hat stops to check on him as well. "Oh, you poor thing!" she exclaims. She tells us what many of the locals will tell us that day. There is nothing you can do but fight through the immediate pain and the spines will come out on their own. You just can't force those darn things out. At this point, all he can do is limp back to the hotel. At least it is our last day and the only future walking required will be to the airport and onto the plane. What an unfortunate ending to our enjoyable stay! Looks like it's over-priced room service for us on our last night, never to taste that delightful cuisine again.

However, in spite of the sea urchin spines still stuck in his heel, my boyfriend insists that we make one last attempt to find the perfect Puerto Rican seafood meal. As he hobbles up to the line to get our parking pass, the older couple in front of us turns around. The woman says to my boyfriend, "You're the poor thing on the beach who got stung!" A moment passes before the recognition sets in: this is the woman on the beach who was wearing the hat. After a few moments of sea urchin chit-chat, they ask us where we're going. We tell them we are on a mission to find the Puerto Rican seafood we crave. As luck would have it, they are going to a Puerto Rican restaurant known especially for its seafood. They're not going straight there, so they give us directions, take a left on your way out, take a right at the Burger King (of course, a Burger King!), veer right at the fork in the road and it will be a house at the end of the street.

Without street names, we're skeptical that we'll find it, but we decide it's worth a try. So we take the left, the right at the Burger King, we veer right and at the end of a residential street, we find it: Rosa's. The men sitting on their porch at the house across the street direct us to an open parking spot. We sit down and proceed to have the best Puerto Rican meal we've had our entire trip. The couple arrives and stops by to check on us. That's when my boyfriend exclaims, "I'm so glad the sea urchin stung me!" And there it is. The moment. One of those rare instances when it all ends up making sense. And something bad becomes something much better than we could have ever expected. If we hadn't stayed in the big resort with the private island where we met up with a Puerto Rican sea urchin, we never would have met these kind people who led us to the perfect end to our trip. They even introduced us to Rosa's namesake and owner Rosa.

The things we remember and treasure most about our trip to Puerto Rico are the small ones: flying a kite at the fort, listening to the coquis and the waterfalls of the rainforest, tasting the perfect morsel of shrimp and encountering the warmth and generosity of other people. For me, those moments are what traveling is all about. Whether it's snorkeling with a sea urchin or swimming in a river in the middle of the rainforest, I wouldn't trade those memories for a single perfect view of the Eiffel Tower or standing at the top of a Mayan Ruin, no matter how grand the view may be.