We pulled open the heavy iron gate and stepped into a small open-air courtyard shrouded in shadows, the moonlight lending an extra sense of magic to what was an enchanting place in any light. We could make out silhouettes of statues and the large leaves of lush tropical plants.

We were shown to our room and then encouraged to explore. The inn's owners host a wine and cheese reception every evening, and so we headed to the wine deck, peeking into alcoves along the way.

The wine deck is part of a larger courtyard that overlooks the pool and serves as the heart of the inn. There to greet us, amidst a mingled group of guests and friends, was Manuco. A man with a hearty laugh and charming accent, he was clearly the center of the gathering even though he stood at the edge of it. "How was your flight?" he asked, and then, concerned, "Have you eaten dinner?" When we assured him that we had, he smiled and suggested a glass of wine. His wife, Jan, walked up to us and admired a stunning bloom we were standing next to. "Do you see it, there?" she asked us, hushed. "It's very rare."

The waiter then appeared at our side with wine. As he handed me a glass, he smiled and said, "Welcome home."

Weary from the trip and wanting to unwind, we found a quiet corner table where we spent several hours sipping wine and taking everything in. The ambiance of the place was palpable - the balmy air, the scent of tropical flowers, the muffled sounds of laughter and conversation. Together in one of our favorite places on earth, relaxed by the warmth and the wine, we sat there, suffused with joy. It was an entrancing evening, perhaps the best we have ever spent together.

I feared the place would lose its magic in the daylight, but that was certainly not the case. The sunlight only revealed more rooms to explore, more staircases to climb, more decks to discover. Much of the inn is open air, which gave the surreal feeling of being simultaneously indoors and out. Every guest we passed wore the same silly smile we displayed, as if to say, "This place! Can you believe this place?!" Sculptures, created by Jan, stared at us wherever we went, the only witnesses to our wonder.

Our room's balcony overlooked the cobblestone street below, with views of the sea to the left and right. And from the inn's rooftop deck, all of Old San Juan and the surrounding area could be seen. We sat there for awhile the second evening, watching the lights of the city glitter beneath the faint twinkle of stars. I could see the rooftops of the buildings nearby, and snippets of street below. San Juan stretched out in front of us, and the rest of the world beyond that. Sitting on this roof in this city, we were a pinpoint on the map, a tiny spot. We sat there holding hands, content in this lush garden looking out over paradise.

While in San Juan we visited the Cuartel de Ballaja, which is a building that once served as barracks to Spanish troops. We were interested in the structure itself, as well as the museum that is now located on the second floor.

When we stepped into the plaza, there were people everywhere, all carrying musical instruments. A boy carried a trumpet. A man with a guitar case walked past. The plaza was a flurry of people headed in different directions, each walking purposefully with their instrument.

Rob and I climbed the steps to the second floor and watched the crowd for a moment from the balcony. We decided there must be a music conference of some sort occurring in the building.

As we bought our tickets for the museum, I asked the employee about it. "What are all these people here for?" I asked. "Is there a conference?"

"Classes," he said. "Music classes every Saturday. And theatre. And ... what's the word? Puppets."

For some reason, this delighted me to no end. I found it so wonderful that all these people - so many people! - came here on Saturdays to learn music and theatre and "puppets."

After we walked through the museum, the classes had begun. From where we stood, we could see at least ten different music classes, spaced evenly along the balconies. Kids and adults were in the same classes, sitting together as they strummed the guitar or beat the drum. It was a cacophony of sound - each class playing a different song on a different instrument. It was so fantastic, it made us laugh. We stood there, soaking in the sound.

This sort of moment is one of the best things about travel - happening upon something completely unexpected and utterly delightful that gives an insight into the place and culture. I think you had to be there in that space to fully appreciate it, but this particular moment has become one of my favorite travel memories.

We had clambered up onto the fort wall and traced its path to a spot where the wall met the hillside and provided a secluded perch from which to gaze at the sea. Later, when we turned back, we would discover that we'd unknowingly crossed a Do Not Cross line, which I'm glad we only noticed in hindsight or else my dear husband would have been steadfast in his refusal to climb the wall and we would have been deprived this little spot altogether. As it was, we stood there for a long time, in the shadow of the fort, watching the ocean lap at the rocky shore below and peering at the squiggly shoreline as it faded into the distance, outlining the small city of Old San Juan.

We'd been chattering and exclaiming all day, but this particular moment we soaked up in silence until, after a bit, Rob said, "I think this might be my favorite place on earth."

"I've been thinking the same thing."

Strangely, I'm unable to properly articulate why we feel this way. The city is utterly charming and undoubtedly delights everyone who visits. But I suspect that our passion for the place has just as much to do with our personal discovery of it. We first visited Old San Juan in 2006 and unlike almost everywhere else we have traveled, we did not arrive on recommendation or with any expectation. We were there to catch a cruise, and we set out to explore the city simply because it was there. And in no time at all, we were enchanted by it. The bright colors and cobblestones charmed us. We fell in love with the forts. We were literally delighted at every turn. That this was a surprise to us meant that we felt we had "discovered" the place together, and I think that made it all the more meaningful to us. There is almost a sense of ownership, a feeling that this is our place because of that first experience we shared here.

And so even though we rarely travel to a place we've already been (with New York, the city that makes my heart sing, being the obvious exception), we chose San Juan as one of the places to visit with our JetBlue pass. And upon a second inspection, we only fell for it more deeply.

The nice thing about visiting a place you have already been is the warm familiarity you feel, like that of rereading a beloved book or visiting a dear friend. As we strolled the streets of Old San Juan, Rob and I pointed out memories from our last visit. "Here is where we got caught in that rainstorm, remember?" In the same way that Hamill describes the histories contained in the buildings of New York, Old San Juan (as well as every other place we visit) is dotted with small moments from our personal history. Memories linger where we create them, residing there until the next time we pass by and pause for a moment to relive them.

There's also comfort in returning to a place that remains the way you remember it (as well as a small bit of intrigue in spying the things that have changed). A few times in San Juan we happened upon a spot that we remembered having photographed the first time - a colorful house or lovely balcony - that had gone completely unchanged. And Rob snapped the same photo again, which for some odd reason pleases me to no end.

But, for all we had already loved about this place, we were very happy to realize there was still much to discover. We revisited some of our favorite spots and discovered some new spots as well. (There are two places in particular that stand out, but each deserves its own post.) Mostly we just reveled in being there, surrounded by a place that just feels so good to us.

A recent project here at our house was to create a wall map on which we can mark with pins all the places we've been. I came across this idea somewhere not long ago and immediately wondered why I'd never thought of this. Rob is one of those people who loves maps, and we've made travel such a focus of our lives that it only makes sense to represent that in some way in our home.

We followed this tutorial. It was a fun project to make, and it's even more fun to push in another pin whenever we return home.

And speaking of travel, coming soon will be a post about last weekend's destination, one of our favorite places on earth.

Rob and I decided to get in on the All You Can Jet promotion that JetBlue recently offered. We almost missed out on this, actually. We'd decided to do it and knew that we had until that Friday to purchase the pass, so we were taking our time researching where we wanted to go and that sort of thing. But that Wednesday evening I happened to go to JetBlue's site to look up something and noticed an announcement that the promotion would be ending early, at 10:00 pm that day. Which was in 10 minutes.

The pass was only available for purchase over the phone, so I dialed that number as fast as my fingers would move. And was told by an automated voice that the wait was currently 6 minutes.

When I finally got a real person, she informed me that we each had to set up a TrueBlue account, which could only be done online. Gah! However, she would kindly wait while we did it. "But hurry," she urged. "We only have 3 minutes left on this promotion."

I sat at my computer and Rob sat at his and we typed faster than anyone has ever typed in the history of the world. Name, birthdate, address, go go GO! And we made it. Barely. She gave us our confirmation numbers and we hung up the phone and commenced the heavy drinking. Partly to celebrate, partly because that was fucking stressful, y'all.

The way the pass works is that you can take as many JetBlue flights as you want between Sept. 8 and Oct. 8. We aren't willing to take many days off work right now, so we're limiting ourselves to long weekends and, thus, only destinations that JetBlue can fly us to quickly. Which is how we found ourselves this weekend in Cancun.

We get bored after more than a day on the beach, so for us a 3-day weekend was the right amount of time here. We had some time on Friday and Sunday to enjoy the beach and resort, and that still left Saturday to visit Chichen Itza. Needless to say, it was a fantastic weekend.

El Castillo, the main temple at Chichen Itza

On the way, we visited Suytun Cenote, an underground pond in a cavern (and sacred spot to the Mayan). There's an opening at the top that lets the light stream in. Gorgeous.

Chichen Itza includes more than just the main temple - it is an entire site of amazing ruins. This spot was one overlooked by many people - and surely we overlooked plenty as well. It's a huge site, and excavations are still being done.

My brother and I are greeted by Kluane.

We visited a sled dog camp where the dogs were very well-trained (and very well-treated). As we walked through the dog yard, each would jump up onto the roof of his dog house to be petted. This little lady was particularly charming - after I reached out to pet her, she extended me a paw. I later saw her shaking hands with many other folks, too. This was in Canada, where it seems even the dogs are super polite.

Red Fox kit

Grizzly mama with cub

We even got to see the grizzly nurse...and no, this wasn't in a zoo!