Three Dramamines later, we finally hit dry land. Well, sort of. It was actually pretty rainy this morning in Aruba, although it was perfectly lovely when we shipped out at about 1pm.
Interesting thing about this itinerary: we don't have much time in a number of the ports. I guess it's because the main focus is the Panama Canal, which apparently takes us two days to get through? So we had all of 4 hours in Aruba and honestly, it was enough. Don't get me wrong; the water is indeed amazing shades of blue, the beaches white and sandy, and the air warm and moist. But it felt very touristy and tired and small.
We got off the ship and decided to walk around Oranjestad – the capital and our port. The warm rain was a nice change from the cold pelty stuff we typically get at Woodhaven, although I immediately wished I had thought to bring my baseball hat. As much as I don't mind rain, I really detest it hitting my face. So we walked quickly, ducked under a palm tree and then a bus shelter and then a sparsely populated strip mall and then a shmancy hotel and requisite Starbucks.
We poked around a few stores, noting that all of the promised DIAMONDS! vendors were inexplicably closed. One would think one would time one's operating hours to coincide with the arrival of one's target shoppers. We did manage to snag two perfectly wonderful souvenirs, though: Piglet (another story for another time) is now wearing an Aruba t-shirt; and we found a splendid addition to our Tacky Souvenir Collection.
Years ago, in Nag's Head, North Carolina, I spotted a truly hideous shell creature in one of those delightfully touristy stores that populate beach towns. I had to have it, googly eyes and metal disc earrings and all. She was soon dubbed The Shell Princess and started our tradition of trying to find the tackiest souvenir we can on each vacation. Since we have several more ports to go, we might have more than one from this vacation but if not, we still scored big today. We are now the extraordinarily proud owners of a clay-like iguana wearing a yellow and red striped bathing suit, smiling and windsurfing. Naturally, his sail has “Aruba” on it. And naturally, the sticker on the bottom says “Hand Painted Crafts.” I will be sure to post a picture when we get home. In the meantime, Iguana Mahn might join us for dinner. The wait-staff already thinks I'm nuts for having brought Piglet to both the Afternoon Tea yesterday (Carolyn and I had MANY offers of tea refills, at least once from each server, none of them looking at us while inquiring) as well as last night's dinner. I really have nothing to lose at this point.
The rest of our Aruba morning was spent in a submarine. A real one, not just one like at Disneyland that runs on a track. I thought we would board from a dock, so I was quite surprised...and more than a touch regretful that I hadn't put any Dramamine in my purse...when we were boated out into the Caribbean Sea, sidled up against a just-surfaced submarine, and walked across a wiggly platform from one to the other. We ended up going 136 ft to the sea floor and got to see all sorts of colorful fish and a purposely sunken boat and a few tires. I took lots of pictures, few of which turned out. It was actually a pretty interesting way to spend our limited time in Aruba, since I'm not sure how else we would have had time to see the fish. It also helped me to see the ocean floor and the fish and coral all happy and peaceful. It didn't look nearly as scary down there as I always imagine it does from the surface. I might conquer this aquaphobia yet.
One more noteworthy tidbit from today: it seems as though the '70s are EVERYWHERE. Our boat out to the submarine and back had music playing in the spirit of Aruba's (self-imposed?) reputation of “One Happy Island” (it's even on their license plates). Our selection? Disco. Then later, after we were back on the ship and well on our way to Colombia, I decided to amuse myself with a line dancing lesson. The young Brit teaching the class told us that since she has been teaching line dancing every day for about 2 months, she was in the mood to change things up a bit. So we did some do-si-dos and grapevines and cowboy struts and heel-toes to...disco. I have to admit, if I had know line dancing didn't automatically mean country music, I would have tried it years ago. Yee haw!
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