After sleeping in on Monday my sister and I spent most of the day running errands and getting things for my trip down here (also saw The Hurt Locker which was fantastic). After buying the necessary items (toiletries, medicine, and of course ping pong balls to play beirut/beer pong) I packed my stuff into two bags (best packing job of my life) and spent the rest of the night watching TV and movies with Emily. At around 3am, I went outside and hailed a cab to JFK airport and waited for my 7am flight.
I thought that it would be necessary to arrive at JFK early for an international flight due to increased security and all. Well, not really. Even my scuba regulators which I had in my carry-on (which have the look of many twisting hoses and metal parts, what I would think would clearly profile in an x-ray machine as a bomb) went unnoticed. The security guy was much busier looking the girl in front of me up and down, not even bothering to look at the security screen. Ah, TSA, keeping us safe. (side note: really, I don't think there is much of a purpose to the TSA besides making people "feel" safe. If terrorists really want to do something again, they will. But with that note, we shouldn't be afraid for chances are extremely unlikely and if we stop traveling, then they have "won").
At any rate, my flight from JFK to Aruba was uneventful and filled with sporadic naps here and there. I arrived in to Aruba around noon at which point I made my way outside and hopped on a bus, staying on for a "tour" of the island. Debated getting off in the downtown of the major city there, but it just looked like the same old touristy place. I much rather enjoyed staying on the bus and noticing the daily habits of locals and tourists alike. Conclusion? I don't think I'd care much for Aruba, it seems almost too clean and "ideal beach resort" for its own good. Seems to lack the character of other island nations not quite so developed. Although, all that being said, I am sure there are some great local places on the island untouched by cruise ship culture and time-sharing throngs of "Bahstawn-ites".
While waiting for my plane to board I stopped by a small outdoor cafe in Aruba's airport, having a Venezuelan Polar beer and a convection oven hot dog-extra ketchup mandatory. Normally this wouldn't be such a big deal except I want to express how great it is to be in a foreign country where foreign languages are spoken. As I approached the counter to order, there was a Dutch family ordering some food. The lady behind the counter, a local, responded seamlessly and finished their order. The next group was a Spanish dad and his two boys who ordered in Spanish, again met with perfect response on the part of the woman working the cafe. And then I order in Spanglish. Well, first in Spanish (to which she responded... I love trying to be Spanish) but then eventually I slipped in English which was met by a sly smile from her. The best of all, however, was my first introduction to Papimiento. Now I had absolutely no idea what Papimiento was coming in but a friend of the Cafe lady showed up and they started speaking the weirdest dialect of Spanish I had ever heard. At first I got really excited about hearing a new form of Spanish but it was no longer Spanish, it sounded Dutch. Then English. Spanish again. Then something else who knows what. It really is a hybrid language and the odd thing is I could pick up a fair bit of it here and there although completely lost in others (probably the Dutch part)...
This little scene hit me in a major way though: one of the greatest joys about traveling I find is the language barrier. It just feels great. You are out of your comfort zone and in a foreign land and everything seems new. And here's just an odd thought I've been throwing around, but when everyone speaks the same language, it is almost as if there is a greater barrier as a more personal contact does not need to be made. When we speak English, we don't really bother to truly watch and listen for other things as we are mainly just concerned with the words/message. When hearing a foreign language, you are forced to see body language, eye contact, tones and delivery style. Even not understanding the conversation between the lady behind the counter and her friend, I felt I had somehow known more about what they were expressing that is so much more important than just the words. Is that a stretch? Maybe. I dunno.
I finished my Polar beer and then proceeded through security and into the waiting area to board my next plane. Ha! And what a plane it was. A 21 seat little island hopper with no aisle and no door between the cabin and the cockpit (see photo below: looks nice on the outside, but inside a bit more rustic). It was very interesting to see all the instruments and pilots actions throughout the flight, although the technology from the 1980's was a bit concerning, although exciting as well and truly the way one should fly from island to island. What's a plane ride in the Caribbean without a little adventure (and the slightest wind throwing the plane around like a ragdoll). The plane stopped in Curacao for refueling and then took off again for Bonaire where I arrived just after 8pm, still not having slept.
Once through customs, I was greeted by Monique (the woman I'm living with) and we drove home where I unpacked a bit. Despite being half-awake at this point, I was super excited to see the island, or just a bit thereof and so we went off to find Juni (Monique's husband) who was teaching salsa lessons near downtown. We stayed there for a bit, then off to find Juni's father who was in town for his birthday but upon arriving at Juni's sister's restaurant, found out that Juni's dad decided to go back to Curacao the day before.The night ended with a bit of internet and a Caribbean soup of sorts: potato, pumpkin, corn on the cob, other veggies, and some tripe... yes, tripe. But it was quite good. After finishing unpacking, I was to bed. Bonaire as my home for the 10 weeks? Yeah, works just fine by me.
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