Everywhere you go in Aruba you see the nickname “one happy island” proudly reminding you that it’s a special place.
It’s even written on the car number plates, which presumably results in less road rage. But you can’t help feel it’s firmly etched onto the hearts and minds of the arubians, dutch and various others that call the island home.
Maybe I came at just the right time, in the middle of carnival week, to see Aruba at its best.
Perhaps it’s because luck landed me with an amazing group of people who would kindly adopt me as one of their own.
Or maybe it’s simply the beautiful beaches, gorgeous people and the fact that it’s a Caribbean island. But whatever the case, I was pretty heartbroken to leave this morning.
So a week ago I left Colombia, came to Aruba and booked a room through Airbnb in a yoga center, expecting some relaxation and peaceful company.
But when an English, Cuban, Arubian, Canadian, Surinamese and Dutch group is unexpectedly formed during carnival week, most of which are performing in the various parades, there was no way it was going to be a quiet few days.
I imagined I would explore the various beaches and hidden gems Aruba has to offer. Instead, I was taken to the other end of the island to see the night parade, where I was enthusiastically pulled into the thronging masses to dance behind the final massive truck-mounted sound system booming out carnival tunes so loudly you feel your lungs vibrating.
I danced salsa on the yoga center porch with an inspiring Canadian and Cuban trombonist, and finally met a Surinamese person for the first time (they actually exist!)
I learned from 3 passionate carnival participants how much effort, time, money and love goes into creating their costumes, and how they somehow manage to dance in corsets under the unforgiving sun for hours on end.
And as usual I would totally fail to meet the woman of my dreams. However, something very unusual, even by my standards, did happen.
At this point, I feel compelled to have a short break from singing the praises of Aruba and balance things out a little bit.
So there I was, minding my own business with a nice cold pint of lager watching the sunset and wishing I had some salt and vinegar crisps.
Then out of nowhere, an utterly stunning woman gracefully and seductively strolled into the bar, turning the heads of every guy and waiter in the place as she went…and to my surprise (and everyone else’s) asked if she could sit at my table.
It was like the opening scene of a Hollywood rom-com, so I frantically dredged my memory banks for a decent opening line to do the situation justice.
Suspicious as always though, I coolly decided to give it 5 minutes in case she was meeting someone. That inevitably turned to 10 minutes, which then became awkward as we both stared at the sunset in silence pretending not to notice the elephant in the sand. And then this happened:
“Will you look after my bag while I go to the toilet?”
“Sure, but it’ll cost you a pint of lager.”
Best chat-up line ever.
Fortunately, I don’t think she understood, politely laughed and left me to have a quiet word with myself about the meaning of self-respect.
I assume that what she actually heard though was:
“It would be my pleasure, and when you return I’d be delighted to invite you to a glass or two of the most expensive Chardonnay.”
We ended up chatting for the next couple of hours, before having to go our separate ways due to prior engagements, and the fact that I was slightly put off by her inability to find Aruba on a map.
We exchanged numbers and arranged to meet the next day at the beach. The next day came and for the first time in my life I had 2 different dates cancelled on the same day. By the same woman. I didn’t even know that was a thing.
I guess she’d been slightly put off by my inability to convert a random romantic sunset encounter into a spontaneous dinner date.
Anyway, back to the happy island and the carnival spirit. Here’s a few videos to give an idea of just how much fun Aruba can be. I really need a new camera though, and to remember not to film horizontally.
On to Curacao
My plan to go to Suriname is taking a little longer than expected as I decided to take a detour via Curacao since it’s just next door. I arrived yesterday, this time staying in a true backpacker’s hostel.
My mosquito bite count is up to around 40 just on the legs, my farmer’s suntan is coming along nicely and there’s more carnival action happening later today.
Let’s see if Curacao can match the high bar set by Aruba.
Jellyfish Rock 