A pontoon bridge connects two halves of the city
Curaçao is cool. In fact, it’s about 10° cooler than it was an hour ago, thanks to a brief cloudburst. It’s the first real rain we’ve seen. These tropical downpours don’t last long, but they’re intense. And because I was under an open roof, they’re great fun to watch. There are a lot of open roofs in Willemstad; most taverns are open air. They have the bar stuck up against the back and then a ramada, or roof without walls, for all the tables and chairs. Everybody drinks their beer and wine al fresco.
If I don’t go on a tour, I walk to parks where birds might be. It is usually quite rewarding. Except not here. I walked to Wilhelmina Park thinking to find grass and trees. No. A tree in each corner and the rest was paved. The set piece was a statue of Queen Wilhelmina, so with a perch like that, there were lots and lots of pigeons.
Queen Wilhelmina pigeon roost
Cat lovers will relate to this. I don’t particularly like cats, so they come right over and rub up against me. I am not that into monkeys, either, so whom did that stupidass monkey in Panama snuggle up next to? And I am not fond of pigeons; you can see where this is going.
When we were growing up, these islands north of Venezuela were called the Netherlands Antilles because the Dutch owned them. They broke up into individual political entities, and some call them the ABCs: Aruba, Bonaire, and Curaςao. Bonaire is the stepchild, sort of, but Aruba and Curaςao are doing well. Both have major refineries that process crude from Africa and South America. The tourist trade is booming. Being essentially Dutch, they are very clean and manicured and well painted, one might even say gaudily painted. No trash, no slums. Tourists love them for the cleanliness, the feeling of safety, and the reasonable prices.
And the ABCs are south of hurricane alley. They are also south of most of the tropical rainfall and are actually quite arid; about 20 inches a year. Water is in short enough supply that Aruba uses astroturf for its hotel lawns. Curaςao just paves them over.
They have anoles six feet high.
Speculation is running amok on board here about where we’ll end up and how we will get there. Trump’s proclamations are so scattershot, no one knows from day to day how they’ll get home. We’re pretty sure the Americans can disembark at Lauderdale. Heaven knows where the other 31 nationalities on board will end up. I toyed with the idea of just staying in Florida until I go to Africa, because Washington state is a hotbed of COVID-19. But no, I want to go home. Should I get the virus I want to be there, not in Florida.
Wait…I don’t have a home. We just sold it.
Hmm…