I was taking what seemed like a country back road, dodging wide puddles left by the previous day’s downpour. The scenery included barbed wire, prickly pears and darned if there wasn’t a windmill rising above the scrub. It was the typical springtime drive in Central Texas–except that I was on Bonaire.
There was a similar moment on Curacao, where the rural vegetation coagulated in a weird coming-together of Baja cactus and Yucatan jungle so thick only lizards can penetrate it. Over on Aruba–Aruba being the most well-known of these three islands–the landscape struck me very much like Southern Arizona, except for the distractingly brilliant blue of the Caribbean.
These, then, are the ABCs–Aruba, Bonaire and Curacao, the desert isles of the Dutch Antilles:
– Straight south of the Dominican Republic.
– So near Venezuela that they’re sometimes absent from Caribbean maps.
– Small and off-track to the point that Caribbean guidebooks struggle to fill three or four pages apiece on them.
Bonaire and Curacao are known mostly for excellent scuba diving. Aruba is known for its beaches. I’m going to assume that if you are a diver you know what to do in the water, and that if you are a sand hound you know what to do on the beach. I’m here to tell what to do on solid ground.
Just getting there, and then traveling from one to another, is a feat of aerial timing worthy of the Flying Wallendas. Flights from Puerto Rico or the U.S. mainland depart from different airports to different islands on different days of the week. Once you make it to one of the ABCs, you’re dependent on the local airline, Bonaire Express, to reach the others–and that’s not easy either (see If You Go).
I went first to Curacao.
Curacao
There are spots on Curacao that, if not for the roofline of red tiles, you’d never know where the blue of the houses ends and the blue of the sky begins. Golden breasted birds flit through the foliage, but their plumage fades in comparison to the saturated pigment of historic buildings. Curacao, pronounced kur-a-SOW, is a bright and painted place.
Capital city Willemstad, a many-colored Amsterdam, straddles either side of St. Annabaai, a long channel that accommodates cruise ships and guides freighters and oil tankers to the industrial docks of Schottegat Bay. Despite its traffic, the channel water is so clear that when I took the two-minute passenger ferry from one side of town to the other, I could easily see variegated fish swimming below. I suppose I probably could have seen fish equally well from the 700-foot-long Queen Emma Pontoon Bridge, reputedly the largest floating pedestrian bridge in the world, but it was dismantled for repairs when I was there.
For Willemstad, skimpy guidebooks instruct you to do a walking tour of this, that and the other mossy old monument. But unless you came all this way especially to see the Curacao Postal Museum, I’d rather you just start walking.
On the Punda side of the channel, your feet will find the way to the floating fruit and vegetable market, waterfront karaoke cafes and duty-free perfume shops that characterize this neighborhood. Before you know it, you’ll come upon Mikve Israel, recognizable for its blushingly modest architecture in a neighborhood of painted hussies. Founded in 1732, Mikve Israel is the oldest synagogue in continuous use in the Americas and displays religious items of even earlier vintage in the adjacent Jewish Historical Cultural Museum.
On the Otrabanda side of the channel, all foot traffic flows irresistibly to Breedestraat, where locals shop for discount clothing, cheap curtains and cut-rate washing machines among the mom-and-pop storefronts of Curacao’s main-est street. In this area, you’ll want to stroll the grounds of Kura Hulanda, a place that takes some explaining.
Kura Hulanda is a historic neighborhood restored to its former glory–so well, in fact, that it has become a UNESCO World Heritage Site. It’s also a gated boutique-hotel village whose rooms occupy what were shops and homes back when; I stayed four nights in one of them. And it’s a complex of fine-dining restaurants. Best of all it’s home to one of the finest small museums I’ve ever visited, the African History Museum, where exhibits celebrate African art on the one hand and graphically chronicle the Caribbean slave trade on the other. I slipped my wrists into rusty manacles and descended into a re-created hold of a Middle Passage slave ship.
You’ll need a car to explore the rest of this 36-mile-long, 8-mile-wide island home of 170,000 people, starting with a skirt along Schottegat Bay. It’s the island’s industrial center, dominated by the vast and surprisingly tidy Isla Oil Refinery. You can get a good view of it, and just about everything else on this part of the island, over drinks, lunch or dinner from the bar and restaurant at Ft. Nassau. Except for the food service, the coral-stone fort hasn’t changed much since it was built in 1796. Even the historic toilets–square holes cut in an overhang–are still intact.
East of Ft. Nassau, there’s an Amstel brewery and, a bit farther on, the former manor house of Chobolobo, where they now distill the world’s only authentic Curacao liqueur, Senor & Co.’s Curacao of Curacao Liqueur, on a factory floor whose square footage is about equal to that of a two-stall garage.
On this eastern end of the island, you can drive on down to the marina at Jan Sofat if you like. The bay scenery there is pleasant enough. But I’d skip the Curacao Seaquarium if I were you. The approach is so shabby as to be offensive. I’d also spare you the search for the Ostrich Farm. If and when you do find it, you’ll discover that the warthogs, which appear to have free run of the place, have left droppings behind on the concrete “floor” of the open-air restaurant.
When you exit the distillery, I’d sooner see you head to the western end of Curacao, provided you haven’t sampled too much of the product. I guarantee that at some point along the drive you’ll need to dodge a herd or two of stray goats, perhaps half a dozen iguanas and innumerable ordinary lizards of varying sizes, not to mention other cars.
True outdoorsmen can tackle the wilds of Christoffel National Park. The less physical traveler can stop at Shete Boka Park to feed the iguanas and walk to a sea cave where runaway slaves once hid. If it’s just flora you want, the drive between Soto and Westpunt runs through a bizarre landscape where a forest of gray-tinted multi-branched cactus rises eerily above a deep green tangle of vegetation.
If it’s around lunch time, you can stop for authentic Curacao cuisine at Dokterstuin, a former plantation house. The open-air tables out back catch a nice breeze, and you can order dishes such as stewed goat meat or plantain with pork tail accompanied by a sizable mound of funchi, a cornmeal staple.
I’m still thankful that they were out of yuana stoba when I was there. An iguana snoozing on the pavement is one thing; one sizzling on my plate is quite another.
Bonaire
Whiptail lizards have three speeds: laze, slither and omigosh-a-car-is-coming! They venture out onto the roads here by the dozens to sun themselves. With a car still at a safe distance, they’re roused to take a few steps. When the car gets closer, they do this thing with their legs, spring up so that their bellies are higher off the ground, then…swoosh! In a streak of blue-green they’re off into the brush.
While I was here, I read somewhere that the males of the species can shed their tails when frightened, leaving the writhing tail behind to distract predators while they flee to safety. Ordinarily I don’t invest much effort observing lizard behavior or reading about lizards of any kind. But tiny Bonaire, just 24 miles long and only 7 miles across at its widest, allowed me time for this sort of thing.
It’s the kind of place where the population of 15,000 solves traffic problems not by installing a stop light–islanders are fiercely proud of not having one–but by rounding up the stray donkeys and putting them in a sanctuary.
Sjord, the fellow who runs the Bellafonte Chateau de la Mer condos, where I spent three nights, told me that during the recent drought the donkeys would come into town at night, posing a traffic hazard as they searched for water. The Bellafonte had to close its gates to keep Dominique the Donkey out of the decorative fountain.
Slaves and donkeys were originally brought to Bonaire to work the salt ponds on the southern end of the island. Bonaire’s most enduring landmarks are the 29 low, cramped slave huts at the edge of the sea. Shore divers use them as a staging area, and pelicans use them to roost.
The Cargill company’s salt ponds are enormous shallow terraces of sea water, all rimmed like margarita glasses and in various stages of evaporation. They say it takes a year for the salt to crystallize. When it does, it goes to the pyramids, great white mountains of salt waiting to be shipped out.
A photo of the pyramids mirrored in the surrounding salt ponds may well be the most memorable you’ll shoot here. Unless you have a long lens, a tripod and plenty of patience, you won’t get close enough for good pictures of the pink flamingos, which breed in mud nests deep inside Cargill property that’s closed to the general public.
You’ll get closer to the flamingos by driving up to Gotomeer, a brackish inland lake whose scenery reminds me of the Ozarks. To get to Gotomeer, you’ll take the coastal drive north out of Kralendijk. Past Santa Barbara Crowns, the road narrows to a single one-way snake of pavement that hugs low cliffs along the waterfront. You’ll be sorely tempted to stop at one of the many parking spots and follow one of the paved trails down to the water for a swim. I hope you brought your bathing suit and snorkel.
Much of the northwestern end of the island is preserved in Washington-Slagbaai National Park. A freak November rainstorm that brought 6 inches in eight hours prevented my exploring the park. But I’m told that if I had climbed the 791-foot peak of Mt. Brandaris on a clear day, I could have seen Venezuela.
Aruba
After the cultural depth of Curacao and the wide-open spaces of Bonaire, Aruba suffered greatly by comparison–and not just because I didn’t win in the casinos. All three islands have oil refineries, for instance. It’s just that on Aruba the refinery is next door to otherwise beautiful Rodgers Beach. Being islands, all three necessarily have shipping operations. It’s just that on Aruba the warehouses butt up against the low-rise hotel zone, where I spent three nights at the just-facelifted Divi Village Golf & Beach Resort , across the road from Druif Beach, in a room showing its age and smelling strongly of mildew.
Arikok National Park covers more than 13 square miles, or one-fifth of this 19-mile-long, 6-mile-wide island. It’s an important hedge against rampant development by the 100,000-plus people who live elsewhere on Aruba. But something very important is missing among the giant cactus, stranded sand dunes and weirdly twisted divi trees: Where are the lizards?
Even Aruba’s most famed and photographed landmark, the Natural Bridge, is gone. The 100-foot-long seaside arch collapsed Sept. 2, 2005, under pressure from the pounding surf that formed it. Seek the simplicity of The Chapel of Our Lady of Alto Vista, on a hilltop above the sea, and before very many minutes the tranquility will be broken by the buzz of ATVs.
For me, the fun of shopping Oranjestad’s marina-front tourist zone was blunted by the May 30, 2005, disappearance of Alabama native Natalee Holloway, last seen alive here; the perpetual traffic jam and dearth of parking spaces along L.G. Smith Boulevard; and on Main Street, anti-Alabama graffiti, apparently a reaction to Alabama’s call for a boycott of Aruba.
Aruba’s saving grace may be its restaurants. In the high-rise hotel zone of Palm Beach, ask for an outside table at the Hyatt Regency’s continental restaurant Ruinas del Mar, and you’ll be dining at the edge of a koi pond graced by black swans. Settle in for several Belgian-French courses at Le Dome, across from Eagle Beach, and you may not want to eat anywhere else the rest of your stay.
When it comes time to say goodbye, have dinner at La Tratoria el Faro Blanco. It’s the hilltop restaurant at the foot of the California Lighthouse, on the northwest tip of the island. What you’ll remember won’t be the actual meal, but the view across the island’s lights, glimmering in the dark.
It’s a lot easier to come home from the ABCs than it is to get to and among them. That’s argument enough for visiting them one trip at a time. As for me, I’ll be coming back to them in print for an upcoming story.
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ARUBA AT A GLANCE
Known for: Cheap deals at has-been hotels, until Natalee Holloway.
Next best thing: Walking Palm Beach from one expensive hotel to another.
Reminds me of: Southern Arizona after a good rain.
Best view: From the California Lighthouse.
Strangest manifestation: Motorcycle dealerships.
Most abundant wildlife: ATVs.
Not as nice as it sounds: Baby Beach.
Better than it sounds: The Butterfly Farm.
Nicest surprise: “Let’s Go Latin!” stage show.
Ditch the tourist scene: On Main Street, at least until you get to the Burger King.
You’re never far from: A Dunkin’ Donuts.
Major annoyance: Traffic jams and parking headaches in Oranjestad.
Saving grace: Le Dome restaurant, across from Eagle Beach.
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BONAIRE AT A GLANCE
Famous for: Scuba diving.
Next best thing: Windsurfing at Lac Bay.
Reminds me of: Texas Hill Country.
Best view: The coastal drive between Santa Barbara Crowns and BOPEC.
Strangest manifestation: Southwest-style windmills.
Most abundant wildlife: Whiptail lizards.
Not as nice as it sounds: Stray donkeys.
Better than it sounds: The salt pyramids.
Nicest surprise: Gotomeer.
Ditch the tourist scene: Anywhere; Bonaire doesn’t really have a tourist scene, except when cruise ships dock.
You’re never far from: Someone on a `round-the-island bicycling tour.
Major annoyance: Trying to get here from Aruba or Curacao.
Saving grace: Pink flamingos flying in formation.
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CURACAO AT A GLANCE
Famous for: Mikve Israel, oldest synagogue in the Americas in continuous use.
Next best thing: Only official Curacao liquor distillery in the world.
Reminds me of: Yucatan jungle tangled up in Baja cactus.
Best view: From the bar at Ft. Nassau.
Strangest manifestation: Signs in English that say “We still believe in Curacao.”
Most abundant wildlife: Marauding goats.
Not as nice as it sounds: The Ostrich Farm.
Better than it sounds: Jan Sofat.
Nicest surprise: When the plantation house restaurant at Dokterstuin is out of iguana stew.
Ditch the tourist scene: By strolling the workaday shops along Breedestraat in Willemstad.
You’re never far from: A red-and-yellow Robbie’$ Lottery stand.
Major annoyance: Frogs so loud you can’t sleep.
Saving grace: The counter clerk pays attention to you, not the ringing phone.
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IF YOU GO
GETTING THERE
Aruba, Bonaire and Curacao are in the Dutch Antilles no more than a 15- to 20-minute flight from one another. They’re in the Caribbean, well out of the hurricane zone and so near South America that on a clear day you can see Venezuela.
The three islands share a common history: Arawak Indians supplanted by a round of Spanish, English and Dutch occupations, which brought with them the African slave trade. Dutch rule eventually prevailed, and continues on Bon-aire and Curacao. Aruba works a bit differently in that it remains in the Dutch realm, but became internally self-governing in 1986 when it separated constitutionally from the Netherlands Antilles.
High season rates generally prevail mid-December through mid-April.
GETTING TO ONE
Flights to Aruba operate non-stop from Chicago on United Airlines on Thursdays, Saturdays and Sundays. Non-stop flights from Atlanta on Delta, Miami on American and San Juan, Puerto Rico, on American run daily.
Flights to Bonaire go non-stop from Houston on Continental on Saturdays. Non-stop service from San Juan on American runs Mondays, Wednesdays, Thursdays, Saturdays and Sundays.
Flights to Curacao run non-stop daily from Miami on American. Non-stops from San Juan run Monday-Friday on American.
I traveled in November, before high season rates kicked in, and flew outbound Chicago-San Juan-Curacao and inbound Aruba-San Juan-Chicago. Those tickets cost me $577, though you could easily pay more in high season.
GETTING AMONG
Honestly, visiting all three islands in the same trip is an expedition even Caribbean experts discourage, however much they’d like to sell you something. I’ve yet to find a cruise that calls on all three.
I contacted one travel agent in Texas who specializes in Bonaire, and he wanted $85 above the fare (going rate is $25) just to book two inter-island tickets: one from Curacao to Bonaire and the other from Bonaire to Aruba. The fellow hinted that he deliberately quoted a high fee because he didn’t want the headache.
So, I reserved the seats myself directly with the little airline. At least I hoped that’s what I was doing during the 15-minute phone call. I’m sure I heard screen doors slamming in the background, the rustle of paper bags and strange cackling noises. A young-sounding man with a sunny accent said I could pay in cash after I arrived. My tickets for Curacao to Bonaire and Bonaire (via Curacao) to Aruba totaled $133.
Bonaire Express (a.k.a. Bonaire Exel) operates several flights daily among all three islands. And by the way, you can pay by MasterCard or Visa, but only once you are in the destination.
Save these phones numbers for Bonaire Express: 011-599-717-0707 or 011-599-717-3471.
GETTING AROUND
Rent a car; it’s just easier than relying on hotel shuttles. Road signs are written in English, but non-verbal symbols for situations such as no parking or one-way streets are straight out of Europe and may seem strange and confusing. It’s OK to take your time deciphering them; ABCs drivers are extremely patient and courteous.
If you plan to tackle the national parks on your own, a four-wheel-drive vehicle is mandatory on Bonaire, highly recommended on Aruba and unnecessary on Curacao. Or you can join one of the four-wheel-drive tours (about $45/person) that take in the national parks on each island.
STAYING THERE
On Aruba: This is one island where the quality of the hotel can strongly influence your overall trip. I wouldn’t send anyone to the Divi Village Golf & Beach Resort where I spent three nights. I wish I had stayed in the heart of Orangestad’s shopping zone at the Renaissance (800-HOTELS-1; www.marriott.com), which has a private island and rates from $359/night (all hotel rates listed here are high-season); or on Palm Beach at the Hyatt Regency (888-591-1234; www.aruba.hyatt.com) with rates from $460/night; or the Radisson (800-333-3333; www.radisson.com/aruba), from $473/night.
On Bonaire: Hotels here are geared for scuba divers. For non-divers, the island is more suited to condo stays. I liked the one-on-one service, ocean views and in-room kitchen at Bellafonte Chateau de la Mer (011-599-717-3333; www.bellafontebonaire.com). Rates start at $125/night for a studio and range to $310/night for a two-bedroom. Ordinarily when I’m in a destination, I shop around for hotels, bagging information for possible future stays. On Bonaire, that temptation never surfaced.
On Curacao: Hotel Kura Hulanda, in Willemstad’s Punda district, is a member of Leading Small Hotels of the World (800-223-6800; www.kurahulanda.com) and offers unique lodging in the buildings of a restored historic district, from $240/night. I spent four nights there, but couldn’t sleep because of the loud and constant croaking of the frogs outside. In retrospect, I’d have preferred spending some nights at sister property Lodge Kura Hulanda and Beach Club at Westpunt (same contact info) from $200/night; in the historic Avila Beach Hotel at Penstraat 130, Willemstad (011-5999-461-4377; www.avilahotel.com) from $237/night; or at the Marriott at Piscadera Bay (011-5999-736-8800; www.marriott.com) from $249/night. .
MORE INFORMATION
Aruba Tourism Authority: 800-TO-ARUBA; www.aruba.com
Tourism Corporation Bonaire: 011-599-717-8322; www.infobonaire.com
Curacao Tourism Corporation North America: 800-3CURACAO; www.curacao.com
— Toni Stroud Salama
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tsalama@tribune.com
