Guests always bring out the best in us. We extend ourselves and put on our best behavior, that’s a fact. The way I see it, sofs working the Aruba magic nd tour. Unsuspecting because he didn' we arrived here. This week i omehow every time a tourist comes to the island to visit us, we try very hard to make them fall in love with what we originally fell in love with when we first arrived here. This week I took an unsuspecting guest on an island tour. Unsuspecting because he didn’t know I was working the old Aruba magic on him. I was successful, naturally. Thursday afternoon when he strolled back from the beach, sun kissed, a wet towel casually thrown over his shoulder he admitted he was smitten with the ocean with the vibes and with the way we all fit into the landscape here. I now know why you said Aruba was dangerous, he declared ally thrown over beach, sun nnection he already has with the island.
now wht you said Aruba was dangerousnodding his head, totally amazed at the just-recognized connection he experienced with paradise.
What did it?
We set out on the road behind the California lighthouse for some sightseeing. The dirt road hugs the rugged coast, below Trattoria Faro Blanco and its famous namesake. The area I think gets its name from a sunken ship, the California, lying many feet under the churning, turbulent water. We crouched determined on the beach camera in hand trying to catch a big one crashing over the rocks. Our patience was rewarded with many fine spray showers, splashing over the jagged edge of the cliff. The big one came in buckets pouring all over the needle-sharp coral shards the second we lifted off the ground, back cramped, knees aching. That’s life. A National Geographic photographer would have dedicated an entire day in an effort to obtain that spectacular misty shot. We only spent 5 minutes.
Retracing our steps for fear of getting stuck in the mounds of sand skirting the now-protected dunes we got back on the road, past Arashi, Malmok and the ocean view homes, leaving the Tierra Del Sol Golf Course behind en route to Alto Vista.
The Turibana back road passes in front of the home of a collector, a junk-museum curator. His front yard is strewn with the rejects of civilization from obsolete car parts to fans, broken dolls and cans to home appliances and gadgets. It is a statement about technology and the clutter in our lives. Most of the ‘things’ heaped dejected were once very important, I know. We couldn’t do without them. Perhaps the anonymous artist cum junk man is telling us something with his eclectic display, something we should carefully listen to.
The island’s first church is very beautiful in an austere and minimalist way. Built by the Spanish colonialists it has always been home to the Lady of Alto Vista a patron dear to many islanders. It is a place of meditation and contemplation and many of my friends always include the lighting of a candle at Alto Vista in their weekly vacation agenda. In the early morning hours of Good Friday, the road leading up, then down the hill is packed with pilgrims, reenacting the Passion of Christ at the Stations of the Cross leading to the chapel.
From Alto Vista we continued on the Moko back road to Paradera Park, in search of Insight Gallery. The Gallery is between shows now, nevertheless, you should drop in if you can. Owner Alida Martinez always has something interesting and thought provoking on display.
We arrived at the Ostrich Farm parched. A cold south-African beer at the bar of the Savanna Lodge tasted just great. Kenneth Simon, the man with the safari hat plays managing director, greeter and guide. The authentic Africa art store is worth a visit.
Surprise. Just passed the Ostrich Farm a horse back ranch just opened. They have about 30 horses, and the young stable man promised us an excellent ride. We turned the offer down as we were heading to the Natural Bridge, but next time, perhaps. The horseback riding tours take visitors to the ruins of the Bushiribana gold smelter, a remnant of Aruba’s gold-rush days.
The Natural Bridge. What shall we say about it? It is above all a symbol of endurance. On the way there it is very easy to see that many other natural bridges formed in the area only they collapsed into the water and could never withstand the pressure and the pounding. Some crosses along the way reminded us how dangerous the water is, having claimed lives in the past, it is gorgeous nevertheless threatening.
We got a bit lost after that. How lost can you get on a 20x6 island. It’s a good feeling to lose control for just a bit and chance upon unexpected sights in unpredictable places. A dirt road delivered us to the Donkey sanctuary. Grey-eared gentle asses greeted us with great interest. They were hopeful we are carrying fruit gifts. They lost interest once they established we were free loaders. Some of the houses in Ayo area are painted Chartreuse, Fuchsia, and Lime green. The place is very charming filled with interesting cunucu houses, picturesque gardens, wild goats, giant boulders and clouds of dust.
The drive down past Sombre into Santa Cruz almost took us to Rusden, a very popular Rum Shop, below the Frenchman’s Pass junction. We stopped, then changed our mind to move on. We stopped at the De Palm Island and contemplated a ride over to commune with the giant blue parrot fish underwater, then changed our mind to move on. We drove along the breathtaking coastal stretch of the Spanish Lagoon in search of Beer #2 location. It had to be perfect, just so.
In Savaneta, Zeerover, a fisherman’s bar doubling as a fish market offered a cold Amstel Bright. The music, Spanish love songs, the mute TV showing the Olympic Games, two senior fishermen scaling fish and the two bartenders, they looked like sister shooting pool into a balmy, tropical afternoon - was just special. We had a bag of Doridos for lunch. It hit the spot.
We toured Main Street in San Nicolas, the Art Gallery was closed. Then we read off the names of all the bars on the street. There are some beautiful specimens of genuine Bauhaus architecture on that stretch waiting to be renovated and revived. The Alverhich Hotel at the dead end is still under construction yet Valero is rebuilding the rickety, crumbling refinery wall along Lagoweg. Baby Beach was busy with quite some visitors and locals. We ignore the crowd and continued along the coast to one of my favorite places, Pet Cemetery, the resting grounds of many local loves. The place is a picture opportunity. India has the Taj Mahal, we have Santana di Cacho. The crosses, the names, the monuments to man’s best friend speak of cherished past connections and the passage of time.
Late afternoon at Rodgers Bay, we found just two people bobbing in the water. Coco’s Beach Café looked like is a good place to chill but I knew a place where the beer is very cold, so cold, it’s frozen. We tasted a Balashi at Essoville Rum Shop and compared notes between the three we had. All good, variety is the spice of life.
From there we drove down to Jamaica Mi Crazy. We shared a pumpkin soup, a Kalalou soup and some itel cookin, a vegetarian main course made of stewed delicious veggies. No beer, just diet coke.
That’s it: Beauty, special moments in time, endurance, art and animals and nature in general, tantalizing food and cold drink. Life, death, surrounded by water. Aruba at its best.
