Caribbean Debut: Aruba
As seasoned worldchumps, Liebi and I have learned by now not to expect too much from certain places.
In other words, when you go to places like Kathmandu or Delhi, there is a very real possibility that things will not be like in the west.
A grocery market in Aqaba, Jordan, for example, will not carry twenty different brands of peanut butter (or even one, for that matter). People in Arica, Chile have not received the memo about English being the premier language used in the world these days. Kuala Lumpur's cafes, while of a superb quality, might not have the five hundred different coffee bean menu you've come to expect from a Starbucks.
Caveat Emptor, in other words. Don't expect too much.
It's a simple formula, really. Expect things in Morocco to be Moroccan, things in Germany to be German, etc. and your traveling experience should be a heck of a lot more pleasant.
Under these conditions it's not hard to understand why Liebi and I first don't buy the Caribbean paradise idea when we look at online brochures of Aruba, an island located less than 20 miles from Venezuela and mainland South America. It seems we have seen those kitschy ice blue waters on sandy beaches before, quite possibly at some place that turned out to be a dump, the white sands toxic waste and the water as clear as sewage.
That said, we know that Aruba, being more or less a Dutch province, will offer some quality and fair weather. So we throw the dice and read a couple of online trip advisors, book a condo one block from the beach, and cross our fingers.
Anybody familiar with how the Dutch do business, how laid-back and friendly they are while displaying remarkably progressive philosophies on life? Same in Aruba. While the native language may be different, people in Aruba have learned a lot from the Dutch, which is certainly not a bad thing. We learn that the moment we land in Oranjestad (Orange City, of course). Joining us from San Diego is also be my niece, Sarah Ann, a welcome addition to the party.
On the face of it, it seems ridiculous to invite somebody from San Diego to a beach resort. In this assumption, we turn out to be mistaken.
There is plenty of time to check out the beach once we arrive at our temporary digs, so we slip into our suits, slap on the sunscreen, cross one road, and are at the beach.
What we find there are…drum roll…kitschy ice blue waters, clearer than swimming pools, white sandy beaches that look like they are the sole suppliers for hourglasses around the world, and warm water that prompts you to forget there ever was such a thing as an indoor swimming pool or a jacuzzi. Dive into the water and you can kiss the fish, which is how clearly you can see them.
On the beach are straw thatched umbrellas. From a cloudless sky pelicans dive bomb into the ocean, only to emerge with a bill full of fish. The kids, meanwhile, ditch the water in favor of the sand, and will dig in it for hours or until their first sunburn.
In the distance further down the coast, we spot a light tower perched upon the cliffs. Old wooden schooners and merchant ships anchored off the shore take you back in time for decades or even centuries, blending in handsomely with their more modern counterparts, the yachts, in 85 degree F weather. You could hardly send a better picture home, nor could cameras begin to capture the scene adequately.
In short: Bull's eye, or whatever the Dutch word for that is.
This is going to be a hell (or in this case heaven) of a vacation.
In other words, when you go to places like Kathmandu or Delhi, there is a very real possibility that things will not be like in the west.
A grocery market in Aqaba, Jordan, for example, will not carry twenty different brands of peanut butter (or even one, for that matter). People in Arica, Chile have not received the memo about English being the premier language used in the world these days. Kuala Lumpur's cafes, while of a superb quality, might not have the five hundred different coffee bean menu you've come to expect from a Starbucks.
Caveat Emptor, in other words. Don't expect too much.
It's a simple formula, really. Expect things in Morocco to be Moroccan, things in Germany to be German, etc. and your traveling experience should be a heck of a lot more pleasant.
Under these conditions it's not hard to understand why Liebi and I first don't buy the Caribbean paradise idea when we look at online brochures of Aruba, an island located less than 20 miles from Venezuela and mainland South America. It seems we have seen those kitschy ice blue waters on sandy beaches before, quite possibly at some place that turned out to be a dump, the white sands toxic waste and the water as clear as sewage.
That said, we know that Aruba, being more or less a Dutch province, will offer some quality and fair weather. So we throw the dice and read a couple of online trip advisors, book a condo one block from the beach, and cross our fingers.
Anybody familiar with how the Dutch do business, how laid-back and friendly they are while displaying remarkably progressive philosophies on life? Same in Aruba. While the native language may be different, people in Aruba have learned a lot from the Dutch, which is certainly not a bad thing. We learn that the moment we land in Oranjestad (Orange City, of course). Joining us from San Diego is also be my niece, Sarah Ann, a welcome addition to the party.
On the face of it, it seems ridiculous to invite somebody from San Diego to a beach resort. In this assumption, we turn out to be mistaken.
There is plenty of time to check out the beach once we arrive at our temporary digs, so we slip into our suits, slap on the sunscreen, cross one road, and are at the beach.
What we find there are…drum roll…kitschy ice blue waters, clearer than swimming pools, white sandy beaches that look like they are the sole suppliers for hourglasses around the world, and warm water that prompts you to forget there ever was such a thing as an indoor swimming pool or a jacuzzi. Dive into the water and you can kiss the fish, which is how clearly you can see them.
On the beach are straw thatched umbrellas. From a cloudless sky pelicans dive bomb into the ocean, only to emerge with a bill full of fish. The kids, meanwhile, ditch the water in favor of the sand, and will dig in it for hours or until their first sunburn.
In the distance further down the coast, we spot a light tower perched upon the cliffs. Old wooden schooners and merchant ships anchored off the shore take you back in time for decades or even centuries, blending in handsomely with their more modern counterparts, the yachts, in 85 degree F weather. You could hardly send a better picture home, nor could cameras begin to capture the scene adequately.
In short: Bull's eye, or whatever the Dutch word for that is.
This is going to be a hell (or in this case heaven) of a vacation.
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