Aruba - Day 3

We started the day in a way we probably would have preferred not to. The lure of a $100 voucher for an excursion (we were hoping for a day with the Jolly Pirates) was too much. We got roped into listening to a timeshare spiel. As we entered the meeting room (after a not-so-tasty meal or dry toast with butter and powered eggs with ketchup) I heard a very thick southern drawl coming from the corner, “Ah’ve always had the dream of bein’ kissed uhnder the Ah-ffel Tower!” What girl doesn’t, lady?! I thought wryly. The promise of “only a 90 minute” presentation turned into 2 hours. Lisa and Antonio did their best to convince us of the need for a membership with BlueGreen. Antonio was especially ardent in his encouragement but we were firm! As we left the meeting, we ran into southern lady and her husband. We chatted for a while about the pressured time we’d all just encountered. We ran into them a few more times throughout the week and they turned out to be a real hoot. The phrase she repeated the most, which I found utterly hysterical, was “Now we’re good Christian people…” and then proceed to treat us with a story about a time when they…..you fill in the blanks.

In record time we were in the car headed south to explore the beaches there. It was the last day we had our tiny auto since there wasn’t much more of the island to explore. Plus, we’d heard the bus system was great.

As we headed down the coastline we noticed little stone statues, thousands and thousands of them. They looked like tiny alters. Or, for lack of a better description, a Canadian Inukshuk. It was odd to say the least. Each one was obviously built by someone. But for what purpose? Was there a religious reason or perhaps an anti-religious reason? It befuddled us. So I built one too. Sometimes ignorance is bliss.

We noticed a dirt road that led off to who-knows-where. So we crossed our fingers and bounced along the ruts. Noticing the wild goats, rugged cliffs to our left and the pounding surf to our right. There were windsurfers slicing through the water right in front of well-built huts. I wondered what brave souls would build their homes so close to the rolling waves and more importantly what the home looked like inside. Did they have electricity or running water? I guess I’ll never know.

We spent some time at Baby Beach, which was the perfect beach for young families, inexperienced swimmers, and newbie snorkelers. Since we are none of those we decided to head to Arashi Beach where the snorkeling was supposed to be better. I slept on the way as road construction forced Mike to take detour after detour, trying to follow signs in a foreign language. We spent a few hours snorkeling and lounging then headed back to the resort for more volleyball (hey, Jeff and Lindsey again), happy hour (which was becoming a habit thanks to the cheap 2-for-1 deals), and pool time!

We ate at Cuba’s Cookin’ in Oranjestad for dinner. I took pictures of my ribs, Mike’s chicken mofongo, and our plantain chips with the dipping sauces. Within minutes the chef was by our table trying to communicate with us. There was a definite language barrier so he used hand gestures and intense facial expressions to make sure we were enjoying our meal. I don’t know who he thought we were and why he came only to our table before scurrying back to the kitchen. Boy, could he whip up some mean black beans! Our waiter made sure I knew how the cook prepared them. Now, if only I could remember!

Then it was back to the hot tub where we met up with none other than Jeff and Lindsey and our darling Eiffel Tower couple. Another beautiful day ended!