Tanner, Fatter, and Relaxed-er

First, the fine print. Some of these photos from the internet, like the underwater and aerial ones. I couldn't very well take those, now could I? Well, I could have, but Dave didn't want to take his Go Pro. How did I let him get away with that! And ones of places I didn't make it to. But, I digress.  The rest are from me. Now for the large print.

As you know, we have come and gone from Aruba. Do you know the place? It’s a tiny island that is a little less than 70 square miles with a population of around 100,000, most of whom were born and raised there.

First, some history, geography, and sociology. I am a teacher at heart, after all.

Aruba is part of the ABC Islands  (along with Bonaire and Curacao) and sits a stone’s throw north of Venezuela. I’m sure you’ve heard of it. It’s been around since 1499. Well, from the perspective of the Arawak Indians, it’s been around some 500 years longer. They took a canoe ride over from Venezuela. Or swam. After Vespucci, best known for his controversial views of Asia’s eastern edge, returned to Spain following his second voyage, he claimed to have found an ‘island of giants’, remarking on the difference in size between his familiar European lot and the natives he encountered on what would become Aruba. After about one hundred years of rule, the Spanish were overtaken by the Dutch, and the island changed hands becoming the property of the Netherlands where, other than a few brief British occupancies, it has remained.

Arubans speak their native Papiamento, along with Dutch (not so wierd now that you know the whole Dutch thing I just told you), Spanish, and English – all before leaving 4^th grade. In later years, students are encouraged to also learn German, Portuguese, Chinese, Russian, and French. This is because tourism is a primary contributor to the country’s economy and, as one of our taxi drivers told us, tourists feel more comfortable if they’re spoken to in their native language. Kind of rude of us, huh? Since a large ratio of those tourists are Americans, the ‘hotel zone’ and downtown, Oranjestad (“O-ryan-stad”), are very Americanized, including familiar retailers and restaurants, prices in US dollars, and a predominance of English-language speakers. That population of 100,000 can more than double when several cruise ships are in port, but most of the crowds stay near the port visiting straw markets, Cartier, and Michael Kors.

Aruba is not your typical Caribbean island, as it is a mostly desert terrain with cacti, aloe, and reptiles flourishing in abundance. This is likely a result of daily temperatures ranging from 86-90 degrees and nearly non-existent rainfall – an annual average of only 18 inches. 

It’s also very windy. Constantly. There was roughly a 25 mph wind happening at any given moment . . . except for that five minutes in the morning . . . on the beach . . . before the crowds arrive . . . **sigh** I gave up on my hair after an hour. But, I digress. It’s also very windy, which did carry with it a couple of benefits. The near tortuous temperatures were periodically reduced by 3- or 4-degrees, and there were no bugs. I take that back. I did see a fly. One. In nearly a week.

The country is divided into seven districts, each with its own Catholic Church (the largest of which is St. Anne's), cemetery, and school. Many citizens build their own homes, paying cash as they go, over the course of four or five years. Those who pay for contractors can get in within a speedy two or three. There is very little crime, a direct result – according to the wisdom of that same taxi driver – of a very low unemployment rate and high level of loyalty to one’s family and the Church. Everything closes on Sundays. Well, everything except the tourist traps – greedy Americans. It is a family day, and those families are big and involved. They party at every occasion – celebrating first communions, baptisms, weddings, births, birthdays, anniversaries, and even divorces & deaths! Yup. Celebrations of moving on, in one way or another. Unlike many other cultures, Arubans do not live with their extended families, just close by. As in next door or on the same street. Our taxi driver pointed out his unkie’s, dad’s, and grandfather’s homes all within five lots of each other.

Aruba has many famous landmarks, like the aforementioned St. Anne's Church with its 1870s handcarved altar, the California Lighthouse, the S. S. Antilla (more about that later), the Natural Bridge, a donkey sanctuary, and Baby Beach, most of which we have to save for our next trip.

All of this delightfulness is surrounded by the most amazing, uniquely colored, calm ocean water I’ve ever beheld.  And I've been to a lot of beachy locales. Not the kind that makes you say, ‘wow’, or ‘beautiful’, or ‘do you see that?’  The kind that leaves you standing there like a crazy person, mouth slightly agape, eyes bulging, breath coming in shallow pants . . . before you breathe in, deeply, all the way to your soul, tasting the salt, feeling the humidity, weighed down by the heat, and your eyes close as your arms raise above your head and a beaming smile crosses your face and you let out a sigh that has been building in your system for eons. That kind. 

But, I digress.

All of this delightfulness is surrounded by the most amazing, uniquely colored, calm ocean water I’ve ever beheld.  As a result, there are no sources 0f fresh water on the island. As a result of that result, Aruba has the world’s third largest desalinization plant, producing delicious and safe potable water that, in turn, provides an unexpected income from its exportation to places like Venezuela and Florida. It was really delicious. Can water be delicious? Apparently. If you don't think it's possible, go to Aruba.

We went there. Did I tell you that? Dave won the trip through work. Well, he actually came in third place, but the first-place guy couldn’t go, so we got to by default. I’ll take it. Free trip to a tropical island? In the wise words of Gwen Stefani . . . let me check my itinerary . . . alright.

I’m sorry I didn’t blog while I was there, but our days were filled to the brim with sunshine, sand, waves, fruity drinks, entertaining people-watching, and delicious meals. 

Specifically . . .

We left the house at 9:45 p.m. (yes, P.M. - that's not a typo) on Wednesday, February 17, 2016, and headed to the Salt Lake International Airport. After an uneventful 3 hours (Literally uneventful ~ everything was closed. What? The airport closes? Well, except the guy riding the floor polisher around. The entire time. I wished I’d had his headphones. And also, if you’re leaving on a redeye from Salt Lake City, whomever said to get there three hours in advance is an idiot. We were two of however many people our 757 held plus a couple of security guys – oh yeah, and the floor polisher. An hour max and you’re good.)
 . . . But, I digress . . . After an uneventful 3 hours, we boarded our first plane. I ended up in the middle seat next to my promptly and soundly sleeping husband and a large snoring man. Despite the nearly empty row behind us, he didn’t move. We figured out later that his family was seated across from him. I moved. I took my book (A Wedding in December), earbuds, and water bottle, and headed back a couple of rows to stretch out in my own aisle seat. Dave slept. After several chapters in my book, a couple of snacks, 20 minutes of sleep, watching a few disturbing moments of The Good Dinosaur  (don't bother), and losing two hours to the time zone monster, all during four-and-a-half hours of flying, we landed in New York at JFK Airport for our connection. Fortunately, we had time to grab a quick bite of breakfast. Barely. They were boarding a little early when we got back to our gate.

Our next flight, from New York to Aruba, left at 8:35 a.m. and promised to be better when I was seated (in the middle, of course) next to a very small girl. Her poor mom, though, was across the aisle on the window. She asked the couple next to her if they would trade places with the girl and so, once again, I found myself in close proximity to two snoring men. I was grateful to remember that I brought foam ear plugs, which were promptly and deeply inserted, allowing me peace and quiet – except for having no arm rests and my upper thighs being periodically squished underneath the armrests as the men on either side of me shifted in their sleep – to read my book. I discovered something wonderful then – there were free, current movies available to watch on seat-mounted screens!  

So, I watched a great move called Our Brand is Crisis, starring Sandra Bullock as a political consultant hired to get a controversial candidate elected in Bolivia, and discovering a lot about herself along the way. Bother with this one. Definitely bother. Dave slept. Five hours later, give or take, plus the extra hour we lost to the time zone monster, we arrived at the Queen Beatrix International Airport in Oranjestad, Aruba. 

The plane's shadow

Land Ho!

Da Plane! Da Plane!

Our arduous trip through Aruban customs included getting our suitcases off the carousel and walking past a group of ‘agents’ involved in a lively and good-humored conversation and paying absolutely no attention to us. Just outside of baggage claim, we were greeted by a charming man named Winston . . . or was it Winstead? Winfred? Bob? . . . No, definitely not Bob. His nickname was ‘Win’ and he told us of his friend with the same name that went by the last half of the name – Ston? -Stead? –Fred?  -Ner? . . . We'll just call him Win.

Our private ride

But, I digress . . . Just outside of baggage claim, we were greeted by a charming man named Win and driven to the Hilton Aruba Resort and Casino.  Since several cruise ships had arrived that day, Win took us the roundabout way through the Noord district and gave us a thorough history, geography, and sociology lesson ~ much of which I shared with you earlier. Did I tell you there are probably as many traffic signs in Aruba as I have fingers on one hand – no stop signs, no signals, just the occasional ‘yield’ markers - yet everyone seems to get where they’re going driving courteously and safely despite their lack! We had fun wondering what it would be like in the U.S. if all traffic signs and signals were removed. That's a scary thought.

Our forthcoming week-ish was to be spent at the Hilton Aruba Resort & Casino. The hotel staff was, of course, amazing. We were checked in and then whisked off to our room by our tri Exceeding  representative who was responsible for planning the trip and all of its accompanying activities.  (If you ever find yourself needing to organize a corporate or customer event or book incentive travel, this is the company for you.) Although the room was not over-the-top by any means, it was comfortable, well-appointed, and boasted a lovely balcony from which we could see the ocean. Come on, now. What more can a girl ask? 

The Riu Palace was the resort next door

Perfect in every way. The grounds of the hotel complex were impeccably kept, though less tropical than we were used to for such a locale (remember the desert climate?). 

We were somewhat surprised by the terrain. Not much outside the resort was green, except huge divi divi trees (with all of their foliage growing to the west because of the winds ~ Win recommended following those if we ever get lost, as our hotel was on the western coast), cacti, and aloe plants. 

Other parts of the island, though, have coastal lagoons, mangrove swamps and more lush vegetation (more things we'll have to see next time). The wind immediately caught us as well, but we were immediately grateful for the relief it provided from the almost overbearing heat. I told Dave I am pretty sure that is what Heaven is like. Maybe without the wind. And the overbearing heat. Otherwise, heavenly to be sure.

Our first afternoon was spent relaxing at what would become our favorite bar, Mira Solo, checking out the property, and wandering down to the water.  

nom nom nom

:) This guy.

Since we didn’t have to be at any kind of organized event until 6:30, we ate some lunch, enjoyed some sun, got some shuteye, and got all gussied up. 

That evening, we enjoyed a welcome reception on the beach with dinner, an open bar, and a great marching band with costumed dancers that weaved in and out of the tables and dragged reluctant party-goers (not me) up for a jig. The song they played (singular, song) was very long, though, running perhaps 12 or 15 minutes. 

My ears and eyes were on overload by the time we finished.  We very much enjoyed the other, unintended entertainment, several REALLY drunk people who had been drinking their first afternoon away, in the sun, and chasing it with a few more at the party. Too bad for them they had to see us again the next day!  Ha!  By about 10, we were completely zonked (after all, we'd been up for nearly 40 hours straight), and headed to bed for the sleep of our lifetimes. Out like lights, and not up until the light.

Friday morning, Dave had to head to a morning “meeting,” so I slept in a bit, headed to the beach to claim our reserved palapa, #131, and then went straight to the coffee shop to wait for Dave. 

As I walked, I became acquainted with the variety of wild and domesticated animals that called the Hilton home ~ a couple of cats and their three adorable kittens, climbing palm tree trunks and jumping off onto one another in the shrubbery below; freshwater koi, undoubtedly imported; green iguanas; and two species of lizards ~ the Aruban Whiptail, and the Cope's Ameiva. On the less traveled pathways throughout the resort, lizards were darting across and we had to be very careful not to take off a tail – we likened them to the deer in Herriman running right in front of your car. The iguanas, which were less daring, sunned on the waterfall during the day and disappeared completely at night.

We got breakfast at Gilligan’s (we went traditional, the American breakfast and Eggs Benedict), and headed to the beach. 

And then, in palapa 131, we sat, trading sun for shade, sipping cool cocktails, watching the myriad of people, listening to waves crashing and languages we didn’t recognize, reading, sleeping, eating. It was bliss. 

Reluctantly, we headed back to our room in time to change and head to event number 2, dinner at the hotel’s signature restaurant, The Sunset Grille.  Unfortunately, we were seated across from Drunk Guy and his fiance (you, like us will wonder how long that will last), who proceeded to offend us and the rest of our table mates with foul language, sexual innuendo and graphic descriptions of body parts, using the ‘n-word’ like it was ‘brother’ although our delightful staff was exclusively ethnic, asking repeated questions over and over and over – ‘Where are you from?’ ‘Who do you work for?’ ‘You’re from St. Louis?’ ‘What’s the name of your company?’ – and making complaints about the food and wine. One distinctly repulsive noise emanated from somewhere in his throat every time he took a sip of the delicious Chardonnay, which was eerily similar to a cat unsuccessfully hacking up a hairball. Finally, after polishing off the glass, he asked for an f-ing cran and vodka.  But it was more like, ‘Cun I getch an f-in’ schran and vodktha’ as he held his pre-dinner empty glass in the air. After dinner, I gave Dave a squeeze and thanked him for not being a jackass. 

The evening concluded with a few drinks (no, we still weren’t jackasses), an evening breeze, and a breathtaking sunset. Overall, a successful day.

Saturday was the highlight, believe it or not. How can we top bliss and jackasses, you ask? With snorkeling, of course. After a quick run through the breakfast buffet at Laguna restaurant, we met our tour guide in the lobby and were shuffled off to the pier just off our hotel’s beach to board the Palm Pleasure catamaran for a lively, entertaining, and jovial boat ride to three different stops. 

The first stop, Malmock Beach, offered a sandy bottom and rocky shoreline teeming with tube sponges, angelfish, coral, herring, goatfish, blue tang, and wrasse.  I think I saw them all.

The second stop, the Antilla Shipwreck, was breathtaking (metaphorically, not literally ~ that would be bad while snorkeling). This World War 2 ship, intentionally sunk by its own captain to avoid letting it fall into enemy hands, is 400 feet long and listed to its port side in about 60 feet of water. Due to its girth, though, it rises up to about 15 feet below the surface, making viewing through a snorkel mask clear and detailed. 

The final stop was at the Arashi Reef, a spectacular coral reef that was home to numerous varieties of coral, fish, and anemones. It was quite shallow, sometimes as much so as one to five feet, so we had to take care with our hands and fins as we paddled (or floated) around to try not to disturb the sea life. As we headed back to the boat, we were excited to see two huge starfish lounging in the deeper water, relaxing on the white sand bottom. 

After boarding the Palm Pleasure again, we were pleasantly surprised to have a delicious lunch served to us by the crew, including salad, chicken in champagne sauce, a mild Cajun grouper, ‘veggie rice’, and pina colada cake to round it out, chased with a spiked fruit punch called Aruba Ariba, the island’s signature drink. Then we enjoyed a nice boat ride back to the pier, did a quick shower and change, and headed for town. 

A pleasant taxi driver recommended the best places to visit, and we wandered through the little port area grateful that there were exactly zero cruise ships on that day, making for a leisurely and uncrowded walk. 

This is what the port looks like when there are cruise ships

We had an appetizer (no, we weren’t hungry) of coconut shrimp at Iguana Joe’s, accompanied by the cutest little birds who were eagerly awaiting our departure. I made friends with one giving him little bites of crispy coconut. 

Then we strolled through town, did some souvenir shopping, 

and caught a cab back to the hotel to get ready for our next dinner event, a Dine-around, where they break us into smaller groups and hit the local hot spots.  We were thrilled to learn that Drunk Guy was going to a different one. 

Our group went to Texas de Brazil and it was delicious. It’s one of those Brazilian steakhouses where they bring skewers of meat around and you can choose whether or not you want a slice of whatever decadence they’re offering. Sadly, I filled up on the salad bar and ate very little actual meat. Glad it wasn’t on my dime! Dave and I walked back to the hotel without the group, stopping in some little shops along the way and eyeballing where we were going the next day. After a nightcap at Mira Solo, we headed off for another wonderful night of sleep.

Sunday didn’t start quite as early. We had reserved a palapa again, so I wandered down by the requisite time of 10 a.m. to ‘occupy’ ours, strategically placed towels, sandals and a book on our chairs, and then grabbed coffee.  Dave was barely rousing when I went back, and we got ready, went to breakfast at Laguna again to really enjoy the buffet (with ample time this go-round), and then back out to the beach. 

Taking a break from the sun after a few hours, we headed over to the pier – remember the one we caught the catamaran from? – and got a drink at the Bugaloe Beach Bar & Grill, then went up to the room to clean up (the sand can never truly be removed ~ it’s in my soul) and change, and then headed into town for our final shopping excursion picking out just the right souvenirs for both kids (cigars for Brian - don't judge - and a hoodie for Sarah. Oh yeah, and some Iguana Joe's hot sauce for Zack). 

We made a traditional and nostalgic stop at Hard Rock Cafe and toasted in memory of Greg. Every tropical place we went with him, we stopped at Hard Rock for a cocktail and appetizers. We miss you every day.

When we got back to the resort, we quickly put on our fancy duds and headed out to the pool for our Farewell Dinner & Reception, complete with a GREAT band, dancing, delicious food, and fun conversation. We stayed out late Sunday night, joining a large group of the trip’s participants at Mira Solo (of course), and laughing & chatting well past our bedtime. Needless to say, we ended another fun day exhausted and slept like rocks.

Dave's boss, Robert

We were sad to wake up on Monday, which we reluctantly did around 10 (since there was sadly no palapa to occupy), but we managed to make a fun morning of it before we had to catch our bus back to the airport. We headed to breakfast at Gilligan’s this time, leaving our bags packed and ready for the bellman, and making it to the restaurant just before they closed. It was a super cool restaurant right on the pathway that went along the beach, so the people-watching was divine. Our meal was delicious, of course, (after all, it was food that someone else prepared, served, paid for, and cleaned up after – how could it be anything but wonderful!?) and we left the restaurant to take a few more pictures of the beach and property. We finally made it back up to the lobby in time to claim our bags and climb on the bus. 

As we pulled away from the hotel, Dave asked where I’d put the passports. It went something like this.

sharon: What do you mean, where did I  put the passports?  You had them.

sharon: No, you had them.

sharon: I’m pretty sure you had them.

sharon & dave: Crap.

Lucky for us, they were right on top in one of our suitcases and we found them as soon as we arrived at the airport. Yup. 3 hours early. Again. This time it (kind of) made sense, though, because we’ve heard that the customs lines can get so long that the airlines come and move you to the front of the line when you’re at risk of missing your flight. But, for us, it was only about 30 minutes to go through the process of checking our bags, going through security, claiming our bags, going through customs, checking our bags, going through security, and then heading to our gate. We even had time to get a final Aruban lunch (one of the best “Toasty Cheese” sandwiches I’ve ever had), buy some Aruban dark rum (yum), and take advantage of having working Wi-Fi for a few minutes to update Facebook.

As we arrived at our seats to find mine occupied by one of our fellow trip-goers, the lady mentioned that they were hoping the middle seat on that row wasn’t taken so that she could sit by her husband instead of across the aisle. Dave offered to take the lady’s seat, leaving us on the aisle on one side and window on the other side. In turn, the couple seated next to Dave’s new spot offered to trade me so that he and I could sit together. I looked at the size of my would-be neighbor and realized that my hubby would sleep the whole time anyway, so I politely declined and took the comfy aisle seat next to a well-proportioned woman who had a great southern accent, was fun to talk to, and smelled good. What a nice change! For the first half of the flight, I took advantage of my recently-discovered pastime and watched another great movie starring Mickey Rourke and Nat Wolff called Ashby, in which a high school boy moves to a new neighborhood and decides to interview his older neighbor for a history project. Unbeknownst to the kid, the neighbor is a CIA Hitman! It’s funny, poignant, startling, and endearing. Family movie night, here we come!  After that, I watched every trailer and made a list of the ones I wanted to see:  Burnt, Spotlight, He named me Malala, 99 Houses, Pan, Steve Jobs, and Trumbo.  Dave slept.

Once we arrived in Atlanta for our connection, at about 7:00 p.m., we, thankfully, did not have to go through customs again since we’d done it before leaving Aruba. So, we just found a place to eat (gosh, you'd think we like to eat or something), Atlanta Bread and Bar, and got the most amazing (let me repeat – THE.MOST.AMAZING) house-made kettle chips with blue cheese sauce, bacon, tomatoes & green onions, plus a Caesar salad with marinated shrimp (guess who ordered that?) and a turkey and avocado club (guess who ordered that?). Absolutely mouthwatering, and I ate so fast and so much that I thought I’d burst! 

We headed back to our gate for our final (phew!) leg of travel, boarding a brand new 757 with lots of cool new features and taking our seats. This time I was by another cute southern belle, just returning home from meeting her first ‘grandbaby’. So cute and nice, and a pleasure to sit by. I was so excited to pick out one of my movie picks, until I discovered this brand new plane must have cost a lot to build, because the movies were not free anymore.  Well, not all of them. Spotlight  was, so I picked that.  And, boy, am I glad!  Spotlight  is about a team of Boston Globe journalists who uncover the scandal of child molestation and subsequent cover-up within the Catholic Archdiocese. It starred several of my favorite actors, including Michael Keaton, Mark Ruffalo, and Rachel McAdams. I highly recommend this one, too, and plan to have another family movie night with this as the feature presentation. (P.S. As I'm finalizing this post, I'm watching the Oscars. Spotlight won best picture. Told ya so.) After the movie, I read some more, ate some snacks, played some games on the seat-mounted screen, ate some more snacks, and read again.  Dave slept.

We finally landed in good old Salt Lake City, and waited what seemed an unnecessarily long amount of time for people to get themselves in order and disembark. Since we were repeatedly seated in the back, the wait was even longer. I turned on my phone to text the kiddos, even thought it was almost midnight, and let them know we’d made it, only to find a message from Sarah that she’d come out of work to find a flat tire, and had been dropped off at Zack’s house. Could we pick her up? Hmmm . . . I guess.  :)  Brian was sound asleep by the time we finally made it out of the airport, collected our bags – which we were happy to see made it – waited for the shuttle bus, found our car, loaded everything up, drove to Zack’s, and got home. But the puppies were wide awake and very excited that we hadn’t died after all, despite their certainty. We spent a little time with them before hitting the sack, too tired to even bring our bags in from the car.

And now . . . back to life, back to reality!

Avo, Aruba. Masha Danki!!

*some photos from the internet, like the underwater and aerial ones - I couldn't very well take those, now could I. Well, I could have, but Dave didn't want to take his Go Pro. How did I let him get away with that! - the rest are from me.

Videos coming soon. When I can figure out how to do it.