Aruba is clearly a commercialized version of what probably used to be a beautiful vacation destination. The beaches are the last remnant of soil that doesn’t have a building or a road on it, and even they are owned to the last acre by resorts who all want to charge exorbitant prices for you to set your towel out and just watch the waves. From all that I read, there are a few notable exceptions. You can hire a taxi to take you to see: 1 - one little church (the first established church on the island from YEAR) which isn’t much more than a barely-upkept one-room rectangle with a roof; 2 – a large working windmill which was first used in Holland and then disassembled and shipped here (after Aruba officially became a part of the Dutch West Indies); 3 - a lighthouse, which is said to be the saving grace of the coral reefs, which are “protected” from the hundreds of cruise boats that visit this island every year.
However, clearly the cruise boats (and the DOLLARS they bring) are VERY welcome. Peddlers in fancified shops for miles and miles sell the same tourist-trap trinkets and wares that every other island sells, all for a “bargain” price that, for some reason, tourists can never seem to pass up. 
Towels, swimsuits, sunglasses, t-shirts, jewelry made from shells, jewelry made from rocks, real jewelry made from gemstones at “tax and duty free” prices. With the blazing sun penetrating my t-shirt to aggravate my snorkel sunburn from yesterday, all I wanted was a few postcards and to say, “Yes, I’ve been here.” 
So here it is! Proof that the Veendam was indeed in Aruba, and that I was off the ship, and put my feet on the island. “I’ve been here!”
No comments:
Post a Comment