I stood on the balcony of our rented condo in San Pedro and watched the lone fisherman stroll to a small craft at the end of the tired-looking dock. He raised the sails, caught enough breeze to move through the still waters and sailed into a stream of an amber gold sunrise.

Seeing such a peaceful way to commute to work made me want to jump into the Caribbean and swim out to apprentice. I watched until he disappeared from view. That is how I started each day in Belize.

The first evening there, I took off my watch and set it on top of the refrigerator. It was the last time I wore a watch. On Ambergris Caye, where San Pedro is located, time is experienced in memories, not minutes.

Clinton, a local guide, that my husband and I hired, had a runabout with a motor that required daily maintenance so he came by on “Clinton-time” and took us with him on timeless adventures.

The longest barrier reef in the Western Hemisphere is off the coast of Belize, making it a popular dive and snorkel destination. So on days after Clinton patched up the boat’s motor, we snorkeled along the reef with schools of tropical fish.

He had fished, swam, and snorkeled in the waters off Ambergris Caye as long as he had memory. He knew the coral and the fishes and moved about the sea as if he rightfully belonged. We followed as his eager students.

On our first outing, the three of us went out to Shark Ray Alley, a part of a marine reserve about 4 miles south of San Pedro. For years fisherman used to clean their catch in the area and the nurse sharks and stingrays got used to finding an easy meal on the remains.

They still gather when a boat anchors and now seem to wait for guides to throw out chum as the animal’s reward for playing nice. The stingrays have wing-like fins that span up to 5 feet. I asked Clinton about the “sting” part. The only caution given was to neither step upon nor grab the ray’s tail. Instruction obeyed.

The creatures had gentle eyes and actually appeared to smile. After watching my husband and our guide swimming with their amiable playmates, I slid into the brilliant, warm, clear water. Gliding amongst several large rays, I felt like a sea goddess moving with them in a whimsical dream.

We found good fishing spots and followed the catch and release policy except for the fish we saved for dinner which we took ashore to an out-of-the-way beach where we gathered coconut shells to use as the fuel for cooking our fresh caught snapper. Of course it was delicious. The Caribbean and a beach we had mostly to ourselves are ingredients to make any meal magnificent.

The shore around San Pedro is an extraordinary place for water sports. All beaches are public. We were enchanted with this sea and found ourselves on it every day. Since the reef is only a half mile offshore, my husband and I got kayaks, which are available at a couple of docks along the beachfront, and paddled out to snorkel.

Other times, we rented catamarans from an outfitter and sailed north towards Mexico where there are remote resorts or along the southern coastline where the resorts are more plentiful. The reef protects the sea from large waves and makes for smooth sailing.

San Pedro is tourist-friendly and appears be able to handle it without surrendering it’s character.

Grass thatched roofs and short wooden structures mostly line the sandy roads. The town consists of only three streets. While there are laid back places that cater to divers as well as full luxury resorts, none are large mega hotels. The only access to town from the northern part is by boat or by crossing the San Pedro River, a channel that divides the island.

A pull-ferry carries passengers on the one-minute ride. Only pedestrians, bicycles and golf-carts, the main motorized means of getting around inland, can cross. The road on the northern side is a narrow unpaved path barely wide enough for two golf carts to squeeze by each other.

Even when we ventured inland to see the Mayan ruins at Lamanai it involved water transportation: first by a bumpy ocean boat to mainland Belize, then by van over roads that felt like we were surfing a tsunami, then finally by a riverboat ride though the jungle via the New River.

We watched for crocodiles as the captain told us, but spotted none. It was worth the wild ride from civilization to wander the excavated area of this ancient culture where archeologists are reclaiming temples and tombs and ball courts from the dense jungle vegetation.

Viewing the size of the High Temple and the detail of the exposed mask on the Mask Temple helps one to understand that this was an important ceremonial site for the Mayans.

The aptly named black howler monkeys live in the jungle treetops and can be seen as well as heard. Lamanai had one of the longest Mayan occupation spans, from 1500 B.C. to 19th Century A.D.

One day in San Pedro, I walked down the sand road of the town to buy a pair of flip-flops. Even my sandals felt like too much baggage. A shopkeeper, where I hoped to make my purchase, had posted a sign: “Back Soon”. There is no hour called “soon”. If sandals felt like too much, then the Mavado on top of the refrigerator was clearly over the top.

I think about this laid-back place with its wonderful water playground and every once in awhile, I regret not swimming out to the lone fisherman.

About the author:

Traveling Tales welcomes freelance travel writer Mary Pat Musick who makes her home in Santa Cruz, California, USA.

Photos by Mary Pat Musick
1: Thatched roof on the boathouse.
2: The pull ferry across the San Pedro River.
3: Mask on a temple in Lamanai.

Colourful hues of blue, orange and aquamarine tower over the waterfront’s edge with matching umbrellas serenely situated below. A vivacious outdoor farmer’s market offers a vast sea of exotic fruits and vegetables, many foreign to those visiting from afar. A vibrant display of papayas, melons and tomatoes are viewed along the nearby floating market now boasting its many offerings. Vendors often sail their boats over 35 miles from Venezuela every morning to sell their goods here in this port.

With much of its food imported, a multitude of international flavors, spiced with a uniquely local flair, are readily available. Dutch, Spanish, Creole and Indonesian-inspired favorites can all be sampled at Curacao’s famous old market “Marsche Bieuw”, located in downtown Willemstad. Possibilities include: bami (noodles with vegetables and meat), sate (skewered meat with Peanut sauce) and Yuana (stewed iguana) for those bravely seeking a truly authentic experience.
Even on a dismal looking day in Curacao, the vibrant sights, sounds and aromas are invigorating.

Curacao is largest of the ABC Islands, and Willemstad, the capital of the Netherlands Antilles, is home to almost two-thirds of the population.

Of the many possible origins of the word Curaçao, the most likely explanation stems from the Spanish calling the island “Corazon” (Heart). Famous Portuguese mapmakers adopted this word into their own language as “Curaçau” or “Curaçao.” Today, to many of the locals, the island is known as “Dushi Korsou” (Sweet Curaçao).

The architecture effortlessly blends its intriguing Dutch heritage along with an adornment of the Caribbean’s celebratory pastel shades. The people of Curacao are of Dutch, African, Spanish origins along with nearly every other race and nationality imaginable.

The native tongue, Papiamento, can be heard along the streets wherever you roam. A combination of Portuguese, Spanish, Dutch, and African dialects, developed early on by the slaves—it became the main means of communication when the Dutch West Indies Company claimed the Island in 1634.

Punda, the colorful downtown sector, offering a wide selection of outdoor markets and shopping escapades, is best known for its Dutch colonial architecture, dating back from the 1760s. The new leaders began to build Fort Amsterdam, to protect their settlement. Soon, thereafter, the city began to flourish.

Combining tourist-oriented shops, local shopping areas and outside vendor fairs, Punda’s multifaceted personalities are all intriguing and well worth wandering through. Everywhere you look, on the outside walls of both homes and businesses, are a wide assortment of beautiful colors, making Willemstad one of the Caribbean’s favorite photographed cityscapes.

The story is that one of the early Dutch governors, under the context of medical advice, outlawed buildings being painted pure white. He was supposedly told that the reflection of the sun glaring off of them could cause major headaches, leading to eye inflammation or even blindness. After his death, it was discovered that he quite ironically had shares in a local paint company.

Looking across the bay, a quick ferry ride from Punda across the channel to Otrabanda transports you toward a long line of shopping stalls, old hotels and several wonderful restaurants. Look back and you’ll see the towering Queen Juliana Bridge, which allows the largest of ships to pass underneath to the oil refineries found back in the inner harbor, Schottegat. After oil was discovered at Lake Maracaibo in Venezuela in 1914, the Caribbean petroleum Company had decided to build a refinery on Curacao.

In 1707, building permits were granted for Otrobanda, “The Other Side.” The buildings along Otrobanda’s Breedestraat are similar to those in Punda, with commercial space downstairs and living quarters on the upper floors. Off Breedestraat, a grand residential neighborhood was built by those desirous of mansions reflecting their higher social standing.

By 1774 Otrobanda was as large as Punda and in the 18th and 19th centuries, free blacks began to migrate to the city. By the 20th century, Otrobanda had become a major cultural center for the rising black middle class. Many of the island’s notable politicians, professionals, artists, and musicians grew up there.

A mural in the waterfront’s colonial-inspired Gouverneur De Rouville Restaurant, where a delightful Caribbean lunch is served, again offers the rich hues of blue, green, earth-tone reds while telling stories of old. Be sure to try the plantain squash soup…it’s unbelievable with a hint of curry mixed in. Enjoy the views across the bay of Punda and take a look at the restaurant’s quaint secluded courtyard with a beautiful fountain out back.

Ordering a Curacao margarita appears to be appropriate here so naturally lunch includes one. Curacao, a liquor known best for its blue-colored dye, is now a generic term for liquor flavored with bitter oranges.

If you have the chance, travel to the Curacao liquor distillery, just a short tour or taxi ride away, to gain a better perspective on the area’s liquor making industry. It’s a great place to pick up a few small gifts, gain a little history and sample numerous flavors of rum all in one inclusive stop.

While heading back to town, you’ll pass through Scharloo and Pietermaai, home to a wealth of gorgeous restored mansions. These two suburbs are listed along with Willemstad on the UNESCO World Heritage List, commemorating their unique value to the world’s cultural and natural heritage.

Museums plentifully abound in and around Willemstad’s many unique sectors. The Curacao Maritime Museum, the Jewish Cultural-Historical Museum housed in the oldest continuously operating Jewish congregation in the Western Hemisphere’s Mikve Israel Emanuel Synagogue, and the Museum Kura Hulanda, offering an insightful overview of the one-time extensive slave trade of the islands.

The day ventures by much too quickly, as usual, as the hour approaches to re-embark on our cruise ship. Time to move on to new ports, however, the Corazon of Curacao remains alive and well in your mind long after you leave.

About the author:

This week’s guest freelance travel writer is Leslie Jones who make her home in California.

The photos:

1: The floating market along Punda’s waterfront. Leslie E. Jones photo.
2: Colourful architecture commonly seen throughout Willemstad. Lori S. Fisher photo.
3: Ferry crossing between Punda and Otrabanda. Leslie E. Jones photo

“Blanch your plantains!” our instructor commands in a no-foolin’-around voice. Blanch? “What does blanch mean?” I furtively whisper to Julia, my partner in this off-the-wall adventure. You see, we were cooking for our supper in Angelica’s Kitchen where our group of intrepid travelers has come for a lesson in traditional cuisine. Having already had a rather lengthy lesson in the art of knife-handling, and inhaling the ambrosial aromas wafting forth from boiling cauldrons, we looked forward to an evening that would end in a memory-making meal or – at the very least- an edible one.

A group of us, journalists all, are visiting Curacao, an island rich in history. Settled by natives of South America, in 1499 the Spanish arrived and, in 1634, the Dutch defeated them to stake their claim to the island. It is the largest and most populous of the three ABC islands of the Lesser Antilles: Aruba, Bonaire and Curacao. It is under 3 hours flight time from Miami and a mere 35 miles north of Venezuela.

Bon Bini!

What makes Curacao unique and special among the Caribbean islands? Naturally there’s the transparent turquoise sea, the soft white sand, the ubiquitous palm trees swaying in the breeze. So, the difference? In a word: Authenticity. And, accomplishing the seeming impossible, Curacao still feels undiscovered, almost like an exclusive hideaway that only you were smart enough to find. It has a heritage both European and African. Spanish, Dutch, British, African and Jewish settlers have each added their own distinct flavor and today more than 50 nationalities are represented here. On my visit I heard a profusion of languages and islanders frequently greeted us with a lusty Bon Bin! which means welcome in Papiamentu, the local language.

We took a tour of Willemstad, Curacao’s capital city and a UNESCO World Heritage site. Row upon row of candy-colored houses – pink, green, yellow, turquoise – gave the town a pretty, fairytale look. The homes featured pitched gables, shady verandas, jalousie windows and many were covered with cascading bougainvillea, a flowering plant that’s considered good luck. In fact, on New Year’s Eve, people use the flowers to make a fragrant water to wash down their houses, thus insuring a fortuitous new year.

Orange is the new….well, Orange

At least on this day. The people of Curacao wear many bright colors but on April 30 of each year, it’s orange or nothing. The bright hue is the national color of The Netherlands and this date marks the Queen’s birthday, so Celebration Time is On! The atmosphere was festive as we danced in the street to the rhythms of calypso, meringue, tango, reggae and salsa. Although I found myself with not a stitch of orange clothing, I joined the thousands of revelers and made do with a bright, exotic orange flower stuck behind my ear. It worked.

Taking the Plunge

After the swinging, hectic celebration of Queen’s Day, I awoke to the sound of the ocean softly beckoning outside my window. It was a call I had to answer, opting for a day of lazing on sparkling white sand of the iconic Avila Hotel and trying out my new snorkel gear. The water was warm as a bath and of a blue so luminous it defied description, making the view below a colorful romp with the myriad fishes that swim near the shore. Snorkeling is right up my particular alley – not scary, yet allowing me to feel I’m doing something really adventurous. However, for those of you who want to delve deeper, you should know that Curacao is a scuba diving paradise, among the best in the world with 165 dive locations, and a chance to view endangered coral reefs and ancient ship wrecks. That evening, we dined at Belle Terrace, Avila’s seaside restaurant, serenaded by a trio playing traditional island songs and sitting under a huge silver globe. Can that really be the moon? Yes, it was.

During colonial times, a good part of the merchant class that moved to Curacao was comprised of Sephardic Jews looking for religious freedom. Our tour included a visit to The Jewish Cultural Museum which housed a fascinating display of objects illustrating the customs and traditions of these early settlers and the history of a community going back hundreds of years. The museum is a part of the oldest synagogue in continuous use in the Western Hemisphere – Mikve Israel Emanuel – a wondrous building to behold.

Our stay at the Kura Hulanda Hotel was special. Our rooms were furnished with hand-carved mahogany and teak furniture and was surrounded by attractive bluestone walkways, boutiques, restaurants and sculpture gardens, all done in 18 th and 19 th century Dutch colonial style.

There are two spectacular pools, including a grotto surrounded by natural rock formations and fed by a calming waterfall. On its site is the Kura Hulanda Museum, a beautifully-curated, anthropological gem that focuses on the predominant cultures of Curacao, exhibiting the trans-Atlantic slave trade in its totality. There is a vast collection of artifacts from Continental Africa, the largest of its kind in the Caribbean. We found one of the more remarkable pieces in the museum’s garden – a standing woman sculpture, one side of her face beautiful and beguiling, and the other side displaying the continent of Africa.

Fun for the Whole Family

If you’d like to venture into a cavern, take a tour of Hoto Caves. They are open daily except Monday. Guided tours will take the family through the stalactite and stalagmite-filled rooms, several of which include pools and waterfalls.

A definite winner with the kids, the Sea Aquarium is one of the Caribbean’s finest marine exhibits. There are local fish, coral and sponges but it is the outdoor tanks with sharks, sea turtles and stingrays that really captivate. Want to swim with the fishes? At the Curacao Dolphin Academy, you can swim, snorkel and even dive with these special creatures.

Pull your head up out of that sugary white sand and take the family to the Curacao Ostrich Farm with a population of over 600 birds, one of the biggest farms outside of Africa. Kids (of all ages) are fascinated to view how ostriches live and breed.

As our Curacao travels came to an end, I’m happy to report that at Angelica’s Kitchen I did learn to blanch and, in fact, all of my cooking buddies did a great job with their assigned dishes. Cooking together, messing up, laughing a lot, making new friends, and ultimately turning out a darn good meal is an experience I’d highly recommend. Leaving Angelica’s we felt sated, convivial, and very Bon-Bini-ed – a memorable Curacao experience!

SIDEBAR

Hotels:

Avila Hotel (from $140/night)
www.avilahotel.com

Hotel Kura Hulanda (from $135/night)
www.kurahulanda.com

Restaurants:

Moon Restaurant (dinners $15-$45)
www.mooncuracao.com

Jaanchie’s (dinners $14-20)

To Do:

Angelica’s Kitchen ($105 per person)
www.angelicas-kitchen.com

Jewish Historical Cultural Museum
www.snoa.com

GETTING THERE: 

American Airlines has 5 daily flights to Curacao via Miami from as low as $154.00

Photos courtesy of Sloane Travel Photography

1. Willemstad
2. The Sea at Curacao
3. Sculpture from the Kura Hulanda Museum

For seven glorious days, Carnival’s Valor drops my hubby and me at a series of hot-hot-hot Caribbean ports for sunny adventures. Isla Roatan, a tropical island 30 miles off the northern Honduran mainland is no different. First glimpsed from our balcony, this emerald isle sparkles in the morning sun, and buzzes with construction of its new cruise ship terminal. Flamboyantly costumed and masked Garifuna performers welcome us ashore, dancing wildly and chanting to frenetic drum music from their African heritage. Like us, everyone stops for photos!

With a couple of adventurous friends in tow, we dodge waiting tour buses and craft market frenzy, eager to explore beyond this bustling pier. Quickly striking a deal with David, a 16-year-old guide, we taxi northward from Coxen Hole, the island’s most populated town.

Driver Luis speaks only Spanish; David speaks excellent English, guiding visitors like us by day and attending school at night. When asked about the remarkable traditional dancers at the pier, David explains, “Long ago local natives and shipwrecked Africans intermarried, creating a new culture. Nowadays, about 200,000 Garifuna live in the Caribbean, mainly in Honduras, Belize and Guatemala.”

As we roll along the scenic coastal road, he fills us in, “This main road goes from one end of our island to the other. It’s in pretty good shape, but if you go off, it’s so rough you need a four-wheel drive.” Past crystal turquoise waters lapping pretty beaches, and laundry dancing in the breezes outside rainbow-colored houses, we arrive at Gumbalimba Park.

We enter through a pirate cave where life-sized pirates stand at attention; chests of treasure, old weapons, pictographs and maps conjure up those days in the mid-17th century. In the coolness of Coxen’s Cave, we consider English buccaneer Henry Morgan, who established his base here. Then, pirate hordes of over 5,000 had sheltered their sloops and schooners around Roatan’s protected Bay islands.

Emerging into warmth and sunlight, we stroll in the natural world along pathways looping through profuse botanical gardens. In a shady grove, we chat with zip-liners alighting on a platform after ‘flying’ from tree-top-to-tree-top across the lush canopies above. One breathless gal points upward, “We started on top of that mountain and after 10 traverses, we’ll end up on that beach way down there—very cool!”

Brilliantly colored parrots and macaws enliven the air, squawking and shrieking raucously. Glancing upward, we spot flashes of scarlet, yellow and lime against cloudless blue skies as they flit, float and fly to gnarly perches below. Crossing a rope suspension bridge over a pretty lagoon filled with turtles, we descend along a leafy trail to where many fellow visitors pause for souvenir pictures with these friendly, feathered fellows sitting on shoulders, outstretched arms, and even heads.
Over at the Monkey Sanctuary, white-faced monkeys impatiently reach for our shoulders like little children impatient to be cuddled. Light as feathers, bright little monkey-eyes look into our ears and up our noses, their slim fingers pick carefully through our hair. These furry little chaps stare curiously into our faces as if they recognize us…but we soon realize they’re looking for tasty handouts as their larger monkey buddies swing effortlessly through the rainforest.

Stopping next at West Bay beach, we frolic and splash like a bunch of kids as we paddle and wade, cooling off in the in shallow azure waters with scores of others. Many locals with their big, fun-loving families happily swim, ride inflated toys, and play frisbee along this beautiful crescent of sand bustling with activity.

Before returning to the sugar sand beach, my hubby snorkels off to commune with multi-colored tropical fish and coral; the rest of us relax on towels in the shade of coconut palms and banana trees, sipping frosty fruit drinks, and bargaining with local ladies for handcrafted wooden bead bracelets and necklaces.

Browsing for more local crafts in open-air shops back in Coxen Hole, shopkeepers call out, “Where you from?” and “How you like our island?” Carved toys, wooden bowls, masks and canes fill many tables; hand-thrown pottery and carved slate items abound.

Heading onward to the ship, we sway, prance and hum to the compelling rhythms of the lively dockside band decked out in jaunty straw hats and embroidered shirts. Hammering away on their wooden marimba and singing harmoniously, they grin and nod at our shenanigans as we pass.

At dinner, our tablemates share events from the day. They tell us endearing tales of touching, stroking and even kissing dolphins at Anthony’s Key and sunning themselves on popular Tabyana beach. Others snorkeled in crystal waters above some of the world’s most unspoiled coral, “Second only to Australia’s great barrier reef,” my snorkelling hubby confides. Wendy and Al had explored Roatan’s East End. “Still pretty rural and undeveloped,” they report. “Over at Dixon Cove Harbor we boarded island-style boats and visited a shipwreck out on the reef, then sampled jellies and jams made from island plum, hibiscus, and other tropical flowers at a typical farm.”

One couple visited iguanas at Sherman Arch’s Farm, where 2700 of these prehistoric creatures roam freely. Hearing this, we recall our cruise director’s quips at a briefing, “Iguana stew remains Roatan’s traditional delicacy, except now they’re protected, so if you go there, you can’t eat ’em—but at feeding time, you can handle ’em!” Grinning, we proceed to munch our succulent seafood dinners…

It’s no wonder Isla Roatan is emerging as the Caribbean’s newest holiday hotspot. In fact, the New York Times recently named Roatan one of the“53 Places to visit in 2008.” And although swanky resorts are rapidly developing along this island’s pristine stretches of white powder sand, on our daytrip we encountered a simpler, more natural Roatan. I suspect its flavor will change, way too soon.

IF YOU GO:

For Full Information: www.carnivalcruise.ca
Call Toll Free: 1 800 CARNIVAL
E-mail: guestinfo@carnival.com

About the author:

Chris Millikan is a freelance writer who lives in North Delta, a suburb of Vancouver, B.C. on Canada’s West Coast.

About the photos:
1: Dock arrival.
2: Rope suspension bridge.
3: The Author holding a monkey
4: West Bay Beach.

Beneath a dense black ledge of clouds a full moon hoists itself above the horizon, revealing the best place to cross the swollen rivers. We can’t believe our luck. The downpour that has assailed us since dawn, has stopped just in time for our trek along this deserted beach. There are four of us following our guide, Jorge: myself, my partner David, and our close friends Heather and Eric. Jorge has gone on ahead and we’re to follow if and when he signals with his flashlight. Fringed by a jungle of palm trees on one side and the Pacific surf on the other, and intersected by numerous rivers, Ostinal Beach on Costa Rica’s Nicoya Peninsula is one of the world’s most famed “arribadas” beaches. Here, four to 10 times a year between July and November, Olive Ridley turtles trundle ashore by the thousands to lay upward of 80 eggs each before returning to the sea. Thirty-five to 40 kilograms in weight and 60 to 75 millimeters in length, an Olive Ridley may be one of the smallest of the world’s marine turtles, but it’s still plenty big enough to stub a toe on.

Observing one of these mass egg-laying phenomena has long been at the top of our must-do list, but we’ve been following Jorge for an hour and one thing is fast becoming clear: there will be no arribadas tonight.

October is a risky month to travel Costa Rica’s roads. Impassable at the best of times, they are also bereft of directional signs. In the “Green Season”, the local euphemism for the May to mid-November monsoons, the country’s back roads turn into truck-sucking quagmires traversed by marauding rivers. We’d left our Samara resort at daybreak, allowing five hours to drive just 50 kilometres. We’d also tried to locate a guide and a place to overnight at Ostinal, but the translated messages were vague. Something about the Nosara River being impassable by car . . . and “Si, Si”, someone might meet us on the other side of the river to take us into Ostional and arrange for a licensed guide.

Five hours later, the sheeting rain had slowed us to first gear and rendered all possible sources of directions invisible. Were we even on the right road? When a raging river appeared suddenly in front of our windshield, we were ecstatic; at long last, the Nosara, We backtracked to a nearby farmer’s home, arranged to leave our car in his field for a small fee, and then set off on foot back to the river with umbrellas, backpacks and uncertain spirits. The farmer had indicated we could cross on a footbridge a half-mile further. The blood-curdling roars of howler monkeys followed us as we slithered through the mud and over the footbridge, our hoped-for rendezvous point.

Across the bridge, no vehicle in sight. Nothing to do but splash on. Half an hour later, hope was revived when we saw a filthy pickup making its way toward us. In animated Spanish the driver explained everything, and we understood not a world. His final gesture was clear, however. Climb in. We did. After several bumpy miles the sight of yet another river slicing the road once again dampened our hopes. Our rescuer shrugged his shoulders and indicated the footbridge we could cross. He could go no further. On our own again. In a moment he had turned around and was heading back the way he had come, waving out the window. Again we found ourselves crossing an unexpected torrent, and squishing onward, but this time our soggy slogging was cut mercifully short. “Hurray, look!” Another pickup was bouncing toward us. Sloppy but enthusiastic greetings were shared all around, and then we were herded into the back of the driver’s open truck. A 15-minute dash through potholes and mud and we arrived at the village of Ostinal where a room in a hostel awaited us and our host pointed to his watch, indicating we would be turtle trekking at 10 p.m. As the four of us vowed to study Spanish more seriously next time, we gave thanks to the power of gestures and to the Gods who had allowed us to bumble on this far.

Sure enough, at 10 PM, Jorge arrived and led us down a lonely stretch of beach. Now our eyes strain for a sign that far ahead, he’s tracked down a Ridley. He has. The light flashes, and we hurtle forward, eventually to make out tracks leading from the sea to the banks of a rivulet. And yes, there’s our valiant mamma Ridley trying to climb the crumbling bank. Programmed to return to the same stretch of beach each year, she has tumbled down the bank several times, unable to reach her destination. Jorge raises her up and over. She hesitates, crawls a short distance, and then seems to know she’s home. She begins to dig with her back flippers.

The four of us hug each other. The howler monkeys are back, roaring in the trees, but they no longer sound ominous. The universe has tipped toward us, and we can’t believe we are here at last; two hypothermic couples with a pathetic smattering of Spanish and a non-English-speaking guide, yet we understand. We understand we are blessed. For two hours, while the moon spills its light and we stand entranced, the valiant Ridley first pushes her eggs into the deep, funnel-like hole she has scooped out then covers her eggs with sand. Crying from exhaustion, the Ridley now begins to rock, but this is no lullaby. She’s gathering momentum for gigantic slams over the covered eggs, packing the disturbed sand solidly to protect her ‘nest’ from scavengers. These baby turtles will hatch without the comfort of their mother.

An hour later, we are still watching as she retraces her tracks, tumbling yet again down the riverbank, until at last she bathes her face in the waves of the Pacific.

Walking back, we keep smiling at one another. How will we get back tomorrow? Who knows? Where will we find anything to eat in this tiny village devoid of tourists? Who cares? Stepping off the secure path, we have entrusted ourselves to the kindness of strangers and been rewarded.

IF YOU GO:
Airlines:
Continental Airlines has daily flights to Costa Rica’s capital of San José through Houston airport with connecting services from Vancouver and Toronto, Canada, via Air Canada. (www.continental.com)
www.aircanada.com
Delta Airlines: Non-stop service to San José from Atlanta, Georgia, with connecting services from Canadian and American cities.
(www.Delta.com)

Where to stay
Check out Casa Romantica, located close to the beach. www.casa-romantica.net

Other lodgings, car rentals, and general information: www.visitcostarica.com

Turtle and Park information: www.costarica-nationalparks.com/ostionalwildliferefuge.html

Tortuga Squad: Kids Saving Sea Turtles in Costa Rica
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About the author:

Cherie Thiessen landed her dream job as a travel writer at the age of 50, and now writes and teaches travel writing from her Canadian Gulf Islands’ home.

Photos by Casa Romantica:
1. Arribadas
2. Baby Turtle
3. Sunset Turtle
4. Egg Laying

In every outthrust headland, in every curving beach, in every grain of sand
there is the story of the earth.
–Rachel Carson

Some people love a parade, some love a rainy night. I love a beach. After a long, hard winter, I was so ready for the beach. Aruba, here I come!

Aruba, called “The One Happy Island,” is a 19 mile-long island of the Lesser Antilles in the southern Caribbean Sea and just 15 miles from Venezuela. Together with Bonaire and Curacao it forms a group referred to as the ABC islands. As its turquoise waters collide against the desert-like terrain of the north shore, Aruba is celebrated as one of the most revisited destinations in the Caribbean. Luckily, it is located below the hurricane belt and has a temperature of 82-degree days year round; in fact, it has the most sunny days in all of the Caribbean.

Beaches here are spectacular – Eagle Beach has been named one of the top 10 in the world. On my visit, it seemed that the beach was a part of everything I did – from water activities to riding a horse on the sand to lunches, cocktails and dinners, all – where else? On the beach.

The Aruba government has launched a $350 Million project upgrading sites in Oranjestad, the capital, as well as building Linear Park, which will be the longest of its kind in the islands; it will create an accessible, scenic link between the airport and resorts along Palm Beach. To include bike paths, pedestrian paths, kiosks and an abundance of trees, this will be a location where visitors and locals can relax, kick-back, and enjoy.

Shake, Rattle and Roll

Kicking back was not foremost on my mind – it was time to shake off my winter cabin fever and get movin’! I’d been told that the De Palm UTV experience was fun and one I wouldn’t forget. Well, they were right on one count. I think I’ll remember it for as long as I live. Fun – that’s subjective, isn’t it? One person’s fun is another’s… er…nightmare? To be fair, it appeared that everyone on this UTV off-road adventure was having a blast. Me? Not so much. Each vehicle carried two of us and we drove in a bumpy caravan formation led by a professional tour guide who showed us the best landmarks of Aruba. All I was aware of was crashing through roads with crater-like holes, skirting mammoth boulders, bumping, grinding, and eating dirt that the vehicle in front of me was kicking up. It was, yeah, unforgettable. UTV tours just happen to be all the rage on the island – à chacun son goût . There are loads of water sports: windsurfing, paddle boarding, kite boarding. More to my taste was snorkeling and kayaking – and lying in a hammock.

It’s Cuckoo

That may be the sound of an island bird but for now, let’s consider one of the silliest, good time tours you can have: The Kukoo Kunuku picked me up at the airport and later took me on an island tour. What the heck is it? Simply a wacky, wonderful, one-of-a-kind open air bus, Reggae blasting, the driver blowing his singing horn, and we loonies shaking our maracas and calling out to pedestrians as we ride by. The company says it’s “the perfect way for the old and the reckless and the young and the restless to tool around.” I’ll second that.

White Wedding Day

Another activity quite popular here: Getting hitched. Aruba has been named one of the world’s top wedding and honeymoon destinations by Brides Magazine. From the Divi Resort to the Renaissance Resort’s private island to the drop-dead new Ritz Carlton (the first 5-star on the island) – everyone’s goin’ to the chapel – and there’s not a more romantic place to do it.

Speaking of romance, there’s a hidden gem on this island known as Boardwalk. Run by charming Belgian-raised twins Stephanie and Kimberly Rooijakkers, and considered by many as the most romantic hotel in Aruba, this small, Caribbean-colored property is situated across from the famed Palm Beach. Boardwalk has been featured in The New York Times, USA Today and National Geographic Traveler. Its lush gardens, hammocks on terraces and champagne breakfasts delivered to your room make this a perfect oasis for couples, honeymooners or anyone wanting a peaceful, serene, truly intimate home base from which to explore the environs.

Aruba Food

On this island, it’s easy to do. No less than 90 nationalities influence Aruba’s cuisine, and the local offerings more than hold their own. At the many breakfasts, lunches and dinners I had on the beach, Keeshi Yena (chickpeas and Gouda cheese) and Funchi (fried polenta and more Gouda cheese) topped off with a perfect Ponche Crema (the best Caribbean drink, bar none) were my favorites.

Festivals

Festivals in Aruba take place all year long on the island. The Bon Bini Festival is a weekly folkloric music and dance affair, the perfect introduction to the warmth and hospitality of Aruba’s people. The action commences in downtown Oranjestad every Tuesday at 6:30 pm in the outdoor courtyard of Fort Zoutman, Aruba’s oldest building. When I attended the event, the flavor of the island, its history, people, music and cuisine came through loud and clear – and I paid just $5 to attend. Gearing up for Memorial Day weekend, the Soul Beach Music Festival is a multi-night concert with beach parties, concerts and comedy shows. In June, there’s the Film Festival that brings the international film community to Aruba. And perhaps the most prestigious musical event in the Caribbean, the Aruba Piano Festival, takes place in September and has built up a world-wide reputation because of the renowned artists that perform.

Bon Bini

Bon Bini means “welcome to my country.” It’s a Papiamento word, the official and most common language in Aruba and it was something I often heard on my visit. I never did learn the word for “Goodbye,” undoubtedly because I didn’t want to say it. I much preferred the local phrase Te Aworo – see you later – thus insuring my return.

IF YOU GO:

Aruba 411: Aruba Tourist Authority www.aruba.com

Hotels

• Divi Resorts www.diviresorts.com
• Renaissance Resorts www.marriott.com
• Ritz Carlton www.ritzcarlton.com/Aruba
• Boardwalk www.boardwalkaruba.com

Restaurants Activities

• West Deck, Papillion, Elements, Moomba Beach, Passions, De Palm UTV
• Manchebo, White Modern, Flying Fishbone, Bucuti www.visitaruba.com www.restaurantsaruba.com
• ABC Jeep www.abc-aruba.com
• Kukoo Kunuku Bus www.kukookunuku.com

The tiny Dutch island of Curacao in the Caribbean, seems an unlikely spot for an anthropological dig. Not the kind where the dusty soil coats to the sweat of your skin and creeps beneath your finger nails but the sort where human history is revealed up close and personal by simply keeping your eyes open.

Curacao (pronounced Cure-a-sow) is a curious blend of architectural styles and cultures, from European sophisticates and traditional medicine women to fishermen who cross the 35 mile stretch of open water from Venezuela.

While the Spanish were the first to lay claim to Curacao in 1499, by the mid 1600s it had become a strategic and bountiful Dutch colony. Apart from a couple of brief British interruptions in 1803 and 1807-1816, it has remained an autonomous part of the Netherlands ever since, with a lucrative plantation system, and a busy commercial harbor which once operated one of the largest slave-trading depots in the Caribbean.

Willemstad, a UNESCO World Heritage site, is postcard-pretty with its seashore lined with brightly-painted 17 th & 18 th century homes topped with curlicued gables and arched galleries, churches and Dutch-perfect courtyards.

Twice a week, the streets swell with passengers off visiting cruise ships, but on other days the prices plummet and you can stroll through the open air markets, filled with the diverse produce of Venezuela, and barter for fish off the boats.

There is a strong Jewish community (settlers began arriving here to escape the Spanish and Portuguese Inquisitions) and the Mikve Isreal Emanual Synagogue, built in 1732, is the oldest synagogue in continuous operation in the Western Hemisphere.

There’s plenty to do further afield too: plantation landhouses put to intriguing uses, mysterious underground caves to explore, a big national park called Christoffel where orchids grow on cacti and tiny white-tailed deer may be spotted. Across the hilly, semi-arid landscape are explosions of green and the vivid yellow of flowering kibrahachi trees and, with more than 50 white-sand beaches, Curacao offers some of the finest diving and snorkeling waters in the Caribbean. Hiking the lava plateaus promise windswept views of crashing waves against a craggy shoreline, and for the young and old alike, a visit to Curacao’s Ostrich & Game Farm, or swimming with the dolphins at the Curacao Sea Aquarium are not to be missed.

If time of the essence, then a visit to Kura Hulanda is a must. This is where slaves were first deposited before heading on to the ‘new world’ and so, for islanders, carries a dark history. Kura Hulanda not only acknowledges this heritage, it has become a fascinating historic and environmental preservation project that comprises refurbished homes as guest accommodations, airy restaurants, gardens and a museum housing the largest collection of African artifacts in the Caribbean. It even has a recreated full-size slave ship’s hold that demonstrates the appalling circumstances under which slaves were shipped. Visiting Kura Hulanda is a rich and textured travel experience.

If time has languished into a Caribbean rhythm, be sure to include a visit to Den Paradera. This is the 100-acre home-garden of Dinah Veeris, a spiritual and holistic herb doctor whose mission is to teach ‘the old ways’ to the younger generation. As such, she mixes hands-on exhibits and education with folklore, inviting you to crush leaves, taste petals and learn of a plant’s curative properties. If the leaf sprouts roots, the love is true; if not, move on to another suitor. Her shop, too, is a veritable apothecary of herbal remedies and solutions for any number of ailments, many of which she’ll diagnose a remedy.

And if time has simply stood still, as it is wont to do on the beautiful island, then stay a while until your curiosity subsides. Though be warned, that might take longer than you had planned.

Information: www.curacao.com

PHOTOS by Chris McBeath