Calypso Arc E-Book

Carlo Reltas

• Herausgeber: epubli
• Kategorie: Lebensstil
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 461

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Beschreibung

Calypso Arc - this is what Carlo Reltas calls the Lesser Antilles, the chain of islands from the Virgin Islands in the north to the ABC islands of Aruba, Bonaire and Curacao in the south. The rhythm of calypso music epitomises the joie de vivre that characterises the people of this island world. Carlo Reltas takes his readers to the dream destinations of the Caribbean - in entertaining texts, which he garnished with over 100 photos. He shares his encounters with a fisherman and gambler, a fake pirate from the "Pirates of the Caribbean", friendly hosts, a lifesaver and many more Antilleans. He runs a half marathon in Barbados at dawn. He climbs the "killer mountain" Mont Pelé on Martinique, the Gros Piton on Saint Lucia and the highest mountain in the Lesser Antilles, the Soufrière on Guadeloupe. But he also deals with the hurricanes of 2017 in the final chapter "Irma, Maria and the consequences". The author was a journalist and manager of an international news agency for decades. Since leaving the news business, he has been living on the edge of the Odenwald (Germany) and travelling.

Leseprobe

Carlo Reltas

CALYPSO ARC

Travel Journal on the Lesser Antilles

I dream of warmer days

when the earth was rounder and the horizon slanted, 

slanted after a glass of rum punch ...

C. Reltas

Carlo Reltas

CALYPSO ARC

Travel Journal

on the   

Lesser Antilles

CARE Publishing

Heppenheim

Cover image: 

Dover Beach on the South West Coast of Barbados

All photos: C. Reltas

To the victims of the hurricanes

Irma and Maria

Thanks to Annette, Kosimar, Ellen, Jolanda and Fabian

for criticism and advice

© Copyright by CARE of Sattler 2023

ISBN: 978-3-758432-48-4

(Original eBook "Calypso-Bogen" in German 2022, 

Original print version in German 2018)

Publisher:

CARE of Sattler

Vala-Lamberger-Straße 20, 64646 Heppenheim

[email protected]

Distribution: 

epubli – a service of Neopubli GmbH, Berlin, 

 www.epubli.de

                     Content

Cover

Motto

Title

Imprint

APPROACH

Calypso Arc – Where is it actually located?

LEEWARD ANTILLES

Curaçao – Holland under tropical Sun

Bonaire – Colourful Underwater World

IN THE ANGLE  

Trinidad – Murky Business with Souldog  

WINDWARD ISLANDS  

Grenada – Maurice, Nutmeg and Rum

Carriacou and the Grenadines – Sailing!

Saint Vincent– Paradise in the Campaign

Barbados – Lobster and other Delights

Saint Lucia – Two Peaks, one Icon

Martinique – Diamond and Murderer Mountain

LEEWARD ISLANDS

Dominica – Where the Caribbean is greenest

Guadeloupe – The Waterfalls are roaring

Antigua – „Best Place on the Planet“

Tortola – Where the Caribbean is steepest

Virgin Gorda – In the Menhir Paradise

Saint Thomas – At Captain Blackbeard's

Sint Maarten –  "Mallorca" of the Caribbean?

Anguilla – Dream Beaches for the Finale

GOING HOME

Flexible – When the Flight is suddenly cancelled

EPILOGUE

Hurricanes – Irma, Maria and the Consequences

Maps

APPROACH

(Sunday, April 2, 2017)

Calypso Arc - Where is it actually located?

The Calypso Arc is not to be found on any map. Karl liked to come up also with this name, just as he had previously created the name Carkanian Circle for the Carpathians Balkan region on a voyage throughout South East Europe. By Calypso Arc, the traveller from the edge of the Odenwald (see author) means  the garland of the Lesser Antilles, the Caribbean island chain that stretches in an arc from the Virgin Islands in the north to Trinidad in the south, bends westwards there and continues - off the South American continental shelf - as far as Aruba, a dutch territory (see maps). 

   "When subdividing this chain of islands," Karl explains to his wife Kosimar on the flight across the Atlantic to Curaçao, also in the Netherlands, "the different languages get tangled up in an irritating confusion of names." In German, a distinction is made between the islands above the wind (i.e. windward islands) and the islands below the wind (i.e.leeward islands), with the former referring to the entire chain from north to south from the Virgins (virgins) to Grenada and the latter only to the east-west chain off the coast of Venezuela. "The British, on the other hand, those experienced seafarers on sailing ships, make a more precise distinction," Karl knows to report. They also call the northern part of the north-south chain up to the bend of the arc between Dominica and Martinique Leeward Islands. In order not to confuse them with the leeward islets off the coast of South America, they call the latter the Leeward Antilles.

   "It is indeed confusing," Kosimar says. "After all, the islands are all in the trade wind coming from the north-east!" "Right! But the British look at it from the point of view of the sailors on board their ships," her husband counters. "If the ships, coming from Africa's west coast and usually with slaves on board, arrived at the apex of the Antillean Arc and continued to follow the northern part of the arc north-westwards, then the trade wind came from the sea side and the islands were on the downwind side, i.e. leeward. If, on the other hand, the ships sailed along the southern part of the chain at the apex of the arc, i.e. on a south-westerly course, the trade wind blew for them on the side where the islands were. These are therefore called Windward Islands.   "I know, a windy explanation," Karl admits with a laugh. "The subdivision has been made a little arbitrarily and sometimes also under power considerations." For example, the English had long designated all islands south of Antigua and Montserrat as windward. "When they also took over Dominica in the mid-18th century, they extended the designation Leeward Islands to there," Karl continues. "I find the British division quite sympathetic. This way I have three major legs ahead of me." As the Air Berlin plane transitions into its approach to Curaçao, he sums up his itinerary: "Together, we will start the Easter holidays on the Leeward Antilles. Since you unfortunately have to go back to school, I will then follow the Calypso Arc north alone, first over Trinidad, which is still part of the continental shelf, then the Windward Islands as well as finally the Leeward Islands." 

   "You with your Calypso Arc. Nobody calls the Lesser Antilles that," Kosimar teases him. "How on earth did you come up with that?" "Well, in the beginning it was ... not the word, but looking at the map. The Caribbean Sea, or rather its contours of the islands and continental shelves surrounding it, look like an ellipse. It is only a short leap to Calypso. The Central American east coast in the west, the Greater Antilles (Jamaica, Cuba, Hispaniola with Haiti and the Dominican Republic as well as Puerto Rico) in the north, the Leeward and Windward Islands in the east and finally the Leeward Antilles and the South American north coast in the south form the Caribbean Callipse, so to speak," Karl explains with a smile.

    "You've thought up something nice," says his wife with a mocking smile. "And you want to travel along your whole Caribbean Callipse now?" "Not that either," admits the Odenwald resident with all his passion for travelling. "Then I'd have to stay away from you for far too long, darling! And besides, travelling long distances on the mainland seems rather uncomfortable to me. I fell in love with the islands of the Lesser Antilles on our previous Caribbean trips. Each of these pearls is charming, offers so many attractions and yet is manageable for the traveller in some days. At least from the plane, each of the islands can be seen in a single glance. And when I want more variety, I hop - whether by plane or boat - to the next island."

    "Do you want to visit each of these islands?" the lady in the window seat next to Karl inquires further. He laughs. "No, I am not afflicted by this completeness mania. There are so many islands in the Virgin Islands archipelago alone, many of them uninhabited. I can't and don't want to sail to all of them. But I will visit almost all of the island states and overseas territories of France, Great Britain and the Netherlands. The only state I will leave out on the way from Antigua to the Virgin Islands is St. Kitts and Nevis. But one day I will get there too."

    "Okay, then you just have to explain to me why you call this chain of islands the Calypso Arc. Calypso is music after all!" - "You're absolutely right about that. Calypso emerged as a dance and music genre at the beginning of the last century in Trinidad, that is, at the hinge of the north-south and east-west chains of the Lesser Antilles. The whole region vibrated with this Afro-Caribbean rhythm in 2/4 time, especially in the middle of the last century. Reggae in Jamaica and especially Soca, a mixture of soul and calypso, developed from calypso in Trinidad and especially also in Barbados in the second half of the 20th century."

     "But does the Calypso still play a role today?" Karl's wife asks. "You bet it does!" he interjects. "The carnival in Trinidad, the most famous and hottest carnival in the region, is still unimaginable without the calypso rhythms. And do you know the name of the shipping company whose speedboat I'll be using to jet from Sint Maarten to Anguilla, the last stop on my tour? Calypso Charters! The name Calypso is still everywhere here. So from Curaçao in the southwest to the hinge of Trinidad in the southeast to the Virgins and Anguilla in the north, I'll actually be doing my Calypso Arc," grins Karl full of anticipation.

    "Look, there's a ribbon of asphalt parallel to the coast of an island!" exclaims Kosimar suddenly. "Probably the runway of Curaçao International, right?" "That's right!" confirms Karl. A little later, the plane of the crisis-ridden airline Air Berlin lands safely in the Kingdom of the Netherlands.

LEEWARD ANTILLES

(April 2017 und Dezember 2015)

Thanks to Frederieke & Jeroen, Ulli & Jochen

Curaçao – Holland under tropical Sun

     "Are you the daughter of the President of Venezuela?" Karl has spotted the name Maduro on the little tag on the uniform blouse of the lady from Curaçao's border control agency. He will come across this name from neighbouring Venezuela many times in the autonomous Dutch overseas territory, including at a bank in the capital Willemstad. The roundish, coffee-brown woman in her mid-forties demonstrates a sense of humour. "You believe that? President Maduro himself is in his mid-fifties at the most!" she smiles flatteredly. Karl ignores the question and replies jokingly: "The next time you see your father, please tell him to resign. He'll ruin his country if you don't."

    After this not entirely serious excursion into Venezuelan domestic politics, Mrs Maduro graciously presses the entry stamp into Karl's passport and lets him pass. Kosimar and he walk through the chilled corridors of the modern airport building. When the automatic door to the large reception hall opens, they already feel the tropical heat. They look around the hall searchingly. Then they hear the call, "Hello, Karl!" It is Frederieke, the Dutch owner of a small holiday resort in the hills near Sint Willibrordus in the west of the island. Sixteen months ago, starting in mid-December 2015 - alone at the time because Kosimar, who had to go to school as a teacher, only followed him to the Caribbean at Christmas - Karl has already spent a few days on the former terrain of the notorious slaveholder Jan Kok. Where once labourers brought from Africa had to toil in salt production, Frederieke and her husband Jeroen have created a holidaymaker's paradise. 

    From the small pool of the complex amidst lush vegetation, the view falls down the hill to the shallow waters of the former salt fields, which are connected to the sea by a narrow funnel between the shore hills. Slaves have long since ceased to dig salt here. In general, this business has come to a standstill. Instead, flocks of flamingos have taken over the wide pools. Jan Kok's old country house can be seen on a neighbouring hill. It glows white in the evening sun. Where once the family of the strict "John Cock" - as the landowner's name would have been translated in English - lived in a garden surrounded by thorny bushes, the artist and former Curaçao beauty queen Nena Sanchez has now set up home, her colourful sculptures somewhat reminiscent of the works of Niki Saint-Phalle.

    On the way to dinner at Williwood1, Kosimar and Karl pass by the entrance of the former Kok's and now artist's residence. They will visit this small hacienda in the next few days. But for now, they head for the meeting place of the Sint Willibrordus area. Locals from all around, immigrant Dutch and of course tourists gather here on Sunday evenings. Karl had already come to appreciate this place at a road junction just before the actual village of St Willibrord on his first visit. The Toko Williwood has also installed its name beyond the road behind the sports field in large letters on the flank of the hill next to the salt fields. The model next to the film metropolis in California sends its regards. The Williwood is not quite as glamorous, but much more cosy.

    The Toko has established itself in the corner of the fork in the road. The word toko comes from Indonesia, another former Dutch colony. Miraculously, it has migrated halfway around the globe to this place. It means "little shop" and is a place where you can buy all the necessities of life. But the Williwood is much more. The sales counter is inside, but on the veranda there are bar tables, benches and chairs. And at the end of the terrace, a drum kit, an electric piano and a bass are set up. "See? As announced in the Williwood newsletter, which I already received a few days ago in Germany, there is even live music tonight," Karl is pleased to say. The veranda is accordingly full. So they finally settle down on the forecourt, where tables and benches are also set up on the tamped earth. They are not alone there for long. The place fills up more and more. A dignified greybeard in an olive-coloured T-shirt takes a seat here with two friends who are also deep dark brown. A somewhat heavy brown matron, her husband in shorts, open shirt and baseball cap over his grey frizzy hair, and a lady with snow-white curls, perhaps the husband's older sister, sit down at the next table. 

    "I think it's great that we're sitting in a popular place in the middle of the locals," Kosimar comments on the situation. Karl agrees with her and orders the speciality of the house: "Two Goatburgers please! What kind of beer for me? A Carib, of course!" Kosimar is sceptical. "I'm curious to see how I'll like the hamburger with goat meat." The first chords of the keyboard sound in the loudspeaker. Then they are served, the "Gothenburgers", as Karl calls them.  

    Elated by the jazz music, well satiated and in a good mood, Kosimar and Karl make their way home. By now, of course, it is dark. This time they walk along the main road and not through the Jan Kok quarter, where on the way to Williwood they were barked at by the farm dogs at practically every property they passed. Karl remembers that at the turnoff to their lodge, a giant pothole adorned the edge of the road and an arc lamp illuminated the turnoff. By then, as they left the Williwood lighting behind, they were left with only the moonlight. On the turnoff to Jan Kok Lodge, several guard dogs are again doing their duty. "Don't worry, the properties are all barred," Karl reassures his wife. But he too feels a little queasy, which he of course hides from his anxious companion. "I was a little worried about you last night," Frederieke tells them when she hands them the keys for the rental car the next morning. "I myself have never walked the road to Williwood, let alone at night." Kosimar and Karl become regulars at the Toko over the next few days. But from now on they always take the car.

Daai Booi Baai early in the morning

    The first walk on the first full day on Curaçao takes them to the beach. "Het leven is mooi, bij Kees op Daai Booi. This motto, which the former naval officer Kees nailed to the wall in his beach bar, is as true as it can get," Karl has promised his wife. "Life is good at  Kees' in Daai Booi. You'll see, it's true." It is still early in the morning. Karl has jogged the two kilometres to Williwood and the further two kilometres to Daai Booi Bay. On the way, Kosimar, who set off later, overtook him in a small car. A few more bends and then it is finally in front of him, the paradisiacal ambience of the bay. A fine sandy beach spreads out in front of Kees' kiosk, with turquoise water in front of it. Shade-giving thatched domes, raised on four poles, are spread over the strip of sand. The bay is flanked on both sides by a rocky cliff. From above, the turquoise splendour is particularly visible. But to discover the splendour of colour under water, you have to put on diving goggles.

    But first, the two treat themselves to pure relaxation. At this moment, they cannot imagine a better place for it. They enjoy the peace and quiet and doing nothing on this relatively lonely beach. A brown-red rooster with black tail feathers struts around the kiosk as Karl fetches something to drink there. "Ah, there you are, Jan Kok, you old slave driver. Actually, it's far too merciful a fate that you're reborn as a rooster and get to spend your time in Daai Booi," Karl jokes with him.

View of Daai Booi from the high coast 

     When he was here alone a good year before, Karl naturally also explored the wild high coast. From there, passing freighters can be seen in the distance. A narrow path leads through a thicket of cacti and thorn bushes to the neighbouring bay of Porto Mari Baai. After twenty minutes he was there, at this equally beautiful, but somewhat more chichi and not quite so natural place. After a short stop for a cool drink at the bar there, he made his way back into the undergrowth to return to Kees' more spartan idyll.

    Diving goggles, snorkels and fins - they are on the shopping list for the next day. At the diveshop in Piscadera Bay - upstairs on the first floor of an airy wooden house directly on the beach - basically everything is available. Only the snorkelling shirt in the right colour is missing. Those who spend longer bobbing on the water surface with their nose and eyes down to spy out the underwater world should cover their shoulders. "When you look at the colourful fish ... and look ... and look, you lose the sense of time. And when you come out of the water, you have one hell of a sunburn on your shoulders. You definitely need a shirt," recommends John, the salesman in the diveshop and an experienced diver from Florida. Karl had also noticed this the day before in Daai Booi, that the long-term snorkellers got out of the water with a wet shirt, one even with a thin cloth cap including a neck bib. "I have my light blue running shirt from Barbados from the 2015 half marathon there, which serves exactly that purpose. But you should also buy something," he advises Kosimar.     "But I don't like the colours, muddy grey or blue," grumbles pink-lover Kosimar. And the fin doesn't sit well on her slender foot either. "True," John agrees with her. "I can get you both from our supplier across town. If you have an hour to spare and want to spend it here on the beach?" "Well, we were actually going in to Willemstad. Okay, we'll take a stroll around town now and in a good two hours we'll pass by here again on our way back to Willibrordus," Karl suggests. "Sure thing," John promises. "Then everything will be ready for pick-up for sure."

    From Piscadera Bay, where the Hilton Curaçao is also located, it is not far to Willemstad, the former capital of the Netherlands Antilles and still the largest city of all the Caribbean islands of the Kingdom of Orange with over 120,000 inhabitants. The colonialists chose the location carefully. Somewhat east of the centre of the approximately 60-kilometre-long island, it lies on the south side of Curaçao facing away from the Caribbean Sea, where the sea flows through a narrow funnel into a lagoon surrounded by land, the Schottegat. This natural harbour is now surrounded by industrial plants, mainly oil refineries. The Dutch colonialists who came here in the 17th century in search of salt, which was in great demand in Europe, conveniently built their town on the narrow passage to Schottegat. The salt merchants who shipped the commodity, much sought after for salting fish, to Europe had their offices on the Handelskade (trade quay), where the colourful gabled houses still stand side by side today. They have become the emblematic image of Curaçao's advertising. More than anything else, they represent the World Heritage Site that UNESCO designated the historic centre of Willemstad as in 1997. The part on the eastern shore of Sint Annabaai is now called Punda, in the local language Papiamentu the translation of the Dutch word for point: Punt. 

   The opposite western part, Otrabanda, is the suburb on the other side, so to speak. Otrabanda in Papiamentu simply means "other side". Coming from the west, Kosimar and Karl drive into Otrabanda along a four-lane boulevard. They park in an open space on the right in the blazing sun, where Arubastraat branches off to the left to the high bridge. You walk through a more or less elegant shopping arcade and you are already standing in front of the Rif Fort, which once guarded the harbour entrance on the west bank, but whose historic walls are now also filled with boutiques and restaurants. They climb the ramparts and - once at the top - see a monster of a ship that towers above most of the buildings in Willemstad: the Navigator of the Seas, 311 metres long, is one of the largest cruise ships in the world and is currently anchored - west of the fort - at Curaçao's Mega Cruise Terminal. 

    Between the "super jetty" and the fort, the infinity pool of a luxury hotel invites you to relax. It seems to flow directly into the sea. Bathers lean on the brick overflow edge and look towards Venezuela. What looks from behind as if you only have to slide over it to swim across to the terminal turns out to be a real wall when viewed from the side at the top of the fort. Below the edge of the pool, an embankment with boulders slopes down to the sea.

    But Kosimar and Karl are fascinated by the ocean waves that slap against the fort's foundations. Just then, a launch sails from the sea into the Sint Annabaai. On the other, Punda side of this passage to the Schottegat, they see Fort Amsterdam on the headland, once a defensive bulwark, built in 1635, now the seat of government of the autonomous country of Curaçao within the Kingdom of the Netherlands. The governor's palace is directly opposite on the "government square", the Gouvernementsplein. That's where the two are drawn. To get there, they walk along the Otrabanda Embankment - past stalls selling souvenirs, colourful scarves and much more - from the Rif Fort to the Koningin Emmabrug, one of Willemstad's main attractions, if not the most important.

    When they reach the bridge, they are denied access. The bridge is there, but it is slightly slanted and does not lead to the shore at the other end, but into the void, or rather into the water. The Queen Emma Bridge lies on 16 floating pontoon boats. Thanks to two powerful ship engines at its Punda end, it can be swung away. It then travels a quarter circle to the north with its east end and finally moors at full length on the Otrabanda, the other side. Meanwhile, the waiting visitors from Germany study the tall mast on the bridge forecourt. At the top flutters the flag of Curaçao, blue like the sea, in the lower third a yellow stripe for sun and beach and at the top left a large star for the main island and a smaller one for Klein Curaçao (Little Curaçao) off the southeast. 

Queen Emma Bridge in Advent Illumination

    Then the bell rings. The bridge may be crossed again. Pedestrians walk across over wooden planks. The "Floating Old Lady", as the movable link between the two banks is popularly called, still seems to be moving. "I feel like I'm swaying like a sailor on land," Kosimar rightly remarks. They are not alone in feeling this way. Other tourists also walk along  in swinging seamen's gait, laughing. Karl already had this pleasure in Advent 2015, when the royal lady was decorated for Christmas and looked especially splendid and romantic in the evening in the glow of numerous ribbons of lights. In front of the four-storey Penha commercial building on the edge of Government Square, which, like the neighbouring Governor's Palace with its yellow walls and white stucco decorations, glowed in the sunlight, stood a green Christmas tree almost as tall as a house, which seemed to have strayed here from European Holland into the palm tree ambience.

    The view from the terrace of the nearby Iguana Café, where - contrary to the name - there are no iguanas stroking your feet, is overwhelming even at Easter time. In front of Kosimar's and Karl's noses, so to speak, a TUI cruiser2 is just passing through the Sint Annabaai across to the inner harbour in the Schottegat lagoon. While the Emma Bridge had to be swung away for the mighty cruiser, it will - as they observe over a frappé - easily fit under the Queen Juliana High Bridge at the entrance to the lagoon. 

    The 56.4-metre-high structure is one of the highest bridges in the world and was inaugurated in 1974 after almost ten years of construction. It bears the name of the grandmother of the present King Willem-Alexander. Queen Juliana in turn (in office from 1948 to 1980) was the granddaughter of Queen Emma, regent 1890-1898, until her daughter Wilhelmina (Queen 1898-1948) came of age. The swing bridge named after Emma had been completed during the lifetime of her husband King Willem III in 1888. From the very beginning, the pontoon bridge was considered one of the jewels of Willemstad. Twice - in 1939 and 2006 - it was thoroughly renovated. Today, it still appears as intact, functional and popular as it did 130 years ago, when it was still subject to tolls and only barefoot, poor people were allowed to cross it for free.

    From the Iguana Café, the tourists see the Emma Bridge being swung aside again. A huge grey Jaguar comes swimming up. It is the 41-metre-long patrol ship "Jaguar" of the Royal Dutch Coast Guard for the Caribbean. Its sister ships, the Poema and the Panter, serve Aruba and Sint Maarten, the two other Caribbean "countries" of the Kingdom. Two flags flutter on the mast of the "Jaguar", the red-white-blue one of the Netherlands on top, the star-spangled one of Curaçao below. The "Jaguar" thus also indicates the political status of the Caribbean island. It has an autonomous administration. But sovereignty over international foreign representation, justice and defence remains with the Netherlands. The "Jaguar" sails out to sea in front of the tourists. Although there is also a machine gun on board, the other powerful gun at the stern of the ship serves peaceful purposes. The revolving water cannon is there to fight fires. So the "Kustwacht" can also be used as a fire brigade.

„Jaguar“ of the Coast Guard

    Kosimar and Karl discover another grey coast guard on the quay wall of the Sint Annabaai as they are about to turn from the Handelskade to the floating market along the Caprileskadey on the Waaigat side bay. A young lad squats on the wall near the corner and stares into the water. His long beak is pointed at the blue surface, wings raised ever so slightly, ready for take-off. His alert eyes are on the lookout for prey. It is a pelican. The human passers-by do not irritate him in any way as he concentrates on peering. "Go ahead and photograph me," his posture seems to convey. "I'm not even ignoring you!"

Pelican on pier watch

    For tourists and residents of Willemstad foraging is made easier. A few metres after the Waaigat branches off from Anna Bay, market stalls stand on the shore. In front of them, customers examine the goods on display. Behind them, boats are moored on the quay. They have brought fruit and vegetables from Venezuela, only about 65 kilometres away, to the floating market. After a thorough examination, Kosimar buys a honeydew melon, green avocados and red onions. But there is much more to buy, including peppers, cucumbers, tomatoes, yams and the related sweet potatoes.

Swimming Market

    Passing the comparatively small Queen Wilhelmina Bridge, which leads from Punda to the old residential area of Scharloo, and the ram-filled Ronde Market, Kosimar and Karl arrive at Plasa Bieu. Here everything that can be bought at the floating market is cookeed. The Old Market, which means Plasa Bieu in English, is something like a huge cookshop with an integrated open dining room. To let fresh air in, wooden grids with countless diamond-shaped openings are set between the supporting pillars and the roof structure of the hall. When you step through the gate, you have the feeling that all cooking steam air is still inside. Various smells waft through the elongated room. On one side, local dishes of chicken, fish and vegetables are simmering away on many cookers set up next to each other; on the other side of the corridor, guests sit at long wooden tables. K and K, as Kosimar and Karl are to be called from now on, walk to the end of the aisle ... and out the other side again. Nothing has seemed so delicious to their eyes and noses that they want to expose themselves to the breathtaking air any longer.

Plasa Bieu (Old Market)

    On the way back to Sint Annabaai, they stroll through the city centre, the pedestrian zone of Willemstad. Red clinker brick buildings like in a small town in Germany's northern province Lower Saxony make the German tourists doubt for a moment whether they are really in the tropics, if it weren't for the brown-skinned Curaçaoers next to the descendants of the colonial masters, not to mention the pretty shop assistants in the numerous fashion shops. "This is not Holland. This is the Dutch Caribbean," Karl states. "But - hold on! - there is also the Caribbean Netherlands. Please let me explain when we get to Bonaire," Karl begs for indulgence and patience as they regain their seats on two wicker armchairs in the Iguana café. From there, you can watch the traffic in the Sint Annabaai and the movements of the Queen Emma Bridge so perfectly, a cheap and never boring amusement.

Caribbean beauty - Sculpture of Nena Sanchez

    The next day, of course, K and K  try out the new diving equipment at Daai Booi Baai. Kosimar proudly emerges from the turquoise water in her new diving shirt as a magical pink mermaid, takes the snorkel out of her mouth and enthusiastically reports on the many colourful fish she has encountered. Things get at least as colourful when K and K stop at Nena Sanchez's Jan Kok Landhuis late in the afternoon on their way home to the lodge after hours by the sea. The "Miss Curaçao" of 1966, who subsequently lived in Venezuela for many years, returned to her home island and to the visual arts in the 1990s. Her paintings and women's sculptures reflect the colours of the tropics - in nature, on the brightly painted houses and the cheerful dresses of Curaçao's women. And she plays with the colours. So it seems only natural that in the often-varied theme of "Young Woman and the Sea", the beautiful woman's face is coloured blue.

Landhuis Jan Kok 

   The artist has converted an old country house into a gallery. The mansions of the Dutch plantation owners - there are still 55 of them today - were usually situated on a hill and surrounded by farm workers' huts, farm workers being a euphemistic word. Slaves brought in from West Africa they were. From hill to hill, slaveholders could warn each other or call for help if there was a riot among the workers. With the namesake of the house now used for fine art, such a riot would not have been surprising. Jan Kok was considered one of the cruellest slave drivers on the island. From the bedrooms on the first floor, there is a magnificent view of lush green vegetation in the foreground, the coastal range of hills in the distance and, in front, the salt fields where his slaves toiled.  

View from the Landhuis terrace

    Today, flocks of flamingos enjoy themselves there. The animals find plenty of food in the shallow water. At the edge of the salt ponds, just before Sint Willibrordus, stands a white stone pillar with a white fist on top. The hand encloses the end of a broken chain. In 1863, the Netherlands finally abolished slavery as one of the last European colonial powers.

Slave Liberation Monument at Sint Willibrordus

    A freedom-loving fellow is also the Venezuelan turpial (English: troupial). While K and K sit at the breakfast table on the gravel-covered forecourt of their studio at Jan Kok Lodge the next morning, he entertains them with his chirping and whistling. With his orange and yellow belly, black head and black and white wing feathers, he is an elegant sight. The Venezuelans have chosen him as their national bird. But he doesn't adhere to any boundaries. This morning, he has perched - sometimes here, sometimes there - on the tops of the three-metre-high cacti next to the German guests' outdoor seat. His chirping attracts three comrades. One musician for each cactus. Immediately they give a Venezuelan concert for four flutes. When Karl approaches the quartet with his camera, the shy flutists flutter away. Three days later, he does capture one of their cronies - with an inconspicuous smartphone.

Fruit bearing cacti

    Cacti are not only a great landing place for turpials. Bats and hummingbirds even feast on them. Karl was able to observe this when he was a guest at the lodge two winters earlier and the cacti in front of his studio bore purple fruit. You have to be a real aerial artist with helicopter skills to be able to feast on the fruit without hurting yourself on the cactus spines.

The cactus fruits attract hummingbirds. 

    On this April morning, however, Kosimar is in the mood for a green plant that does not have thorns, but sharp-edged spikes: the real Curaçao Aloe. Its juice is said to have true miraculous powers, not least - and therefore particularly important for people who want to preserve their beauty - in the field of anti-ageing. After all, it has been scientifically proven that the "real aloe", Aloe Vera, has an anti-inflammatory and wound-healing effect. Kosimar once felt the beneficial effects first-hand. Years ago, in Barbados, a neighbour named Fillmore drizzled the juice of the Aloe Vera on her calves, which had been stung by insects, and rubbed it in. Within a short time, the itching subsided. Fillmore had cut an aloe leaf with a pocket knife in the front garden, squeezed the leaf over the inflamed pustules and spread the drops.   

    In the north-east of Curaçao there is a large agro-industrial operation, an Aloe Vera farm, where the plant is grown and processed on a large scale. K and K set off for this Aloe Vera Plantation on the outskirts of the settlement Groot Sint Joris on this Thursday. In the air-conditioned showroom, they learn all there is to know about the healing plant and how the products are made. Of course, these products - from body lotion to face cream to "revitalising" juice - are also offered for sale here. Thousands of the barely knee-high aloe plants stand in the surrounding fields. Visitors and customers are not allowed into the modern production hall. The Aloe Vera alchemists obviously do not want to be disturbed or guard their secrets.

Aloe Vera Field near Sint Jordis

    The residents of Jan Sofat, "Curaçao's Most Exclusive Neighborhood",as the website of the same name advertises this residential area,  are also well protected- It is secured by a barrier. The most beautiful villas of the compound are located on two headlands jutting out from the north shore into Spaanse Water, the large lagoon in the southeast of the island. On their way back from the Aloe Vera Plantation, K and K want to drive to the Spanish Water to pick up the tickets for their speedboat tour to Klein Curaçao the following day. But before that, Karl wants to show his wife something. He drives over a causeway to the island west of Jan Sofat with the Curaçao Yacht Club. From the causeway, one can very well kibitz on the nearby exclusive shoreline of Jan Sofat: Villas with yacht ports, and certainly carports on the side of the road that cannot be seen. The "little ships" anchored there "only" rise up to the windows of the second floors. "Which millionaires live there?" Kosimar wants to know. "No idea," Karl has to confess. "But I don't even think that only the plutocrats of Curaçao live here. In any case, the advertising is also aimed at an international clientele, such as Croesuses from Holland and the United States. Look here," he says, pointing to his tablet, "according to this website, a villa can be had for as little as 2.6 million euros. The yacht that goes with it costs three quarters of a million. And both together are available for the bargain price of 3.1 million. That's a quick way to save 250,000 euros. That's a great deal! Ha, ha!"

Spaanse Water mit Jan Sofat Villas

    After this blink to the world of the super-rich, K and K cannot simply return to the spartan Daai Booi Baai. On this day, it can be a little more dignified. So this time they don't take the first turnoff to the beach in Sint Willibrordus, but continue straight ahead to Playa Porto Mari. It is indeed a little more comfortable there. Everything is a touch more well-kept, the bar is not a kiosk with a sales edge, but a real bar with stools. When they have made themselves comfortable on the deckchairs near the row of shade trees at the edge of the fine sandy beach, someone whistles behind them. Karl turns around. In the branches of the next but one tree, a yellow and black bird is whistling happily. The turpial is already there. K and K enjoy the late afternoon sun, swim out to the pontoon, take wonderful backlit photos of the setting sun over the sea and beach and want to warble with satisfaction like their friend, the turpial.

    "When you're doing too well, you have to look for new challenges," Kosimar announces the next morning. The weather report the day before had been somewhat vague about the expected wind strengths. The organisers of the Adrenaline Tours had promised to call two hours before departure if the sea was too rough for the trip to Klein Curaçao. The call fails to materialise. So they set off on the 40-minute drive to Caracas Baai, according to Google Maps. They think they have planned enough time when they get into the rental car at their lodge a good hour before the speedboat departs. But they haven't factored in the rush hour traffic that causes stop and go on the Queen Juliana High Bridge on this Friday morning. With the time pressure breathing down their necks, they can't really enjoy the view. But it is grandiose, with the huge refinery on the edge of the Schottegat on the left and the Sint Annabaai between Punda and Otrabanda deep down on the right. From above, this colourful Caribbean-Dutch architectural ensemble looks like a toy town in the museum realm of the World Heritage Site.

    They make it just in time, as the traffic jam clears behind the bridge. The charter boat slowly curves out of the small side bay of Caracas Baai and picks up speed in the baai proper. The speedboat darts past Fort Beekenburg, built in 1703, which had to shelter from the edge of Caracas Bay the lagoon behind it, the "Spanish Water". In the 18th century, the Dutch often repelled attacks by pirates and the French and English fleets from there. The pirates will not have been travelling as fast as the Adrenalin Boat. The hull keeps slapping the waves. As long as the boat sails halfway in the lee of the island, the swell is kept within limits. But after a good half an hour, they leave the island's nose at Curaçao's south-eastern end behind them.

    Now it's another six nautical miles (about eleven kilometres) across the open sea - further in a southeasterly direction. The northeast trade wind gets in the way of the small speedboat. The swell gets stronger, the bouncing of the hull more violent. Kosimar, the accomplished sailor, has enthusiasm flashing from her eyes. "The captain really does a great job of tackling the waves," she comments. Karl, the landlubber, has gone completely quiet. He clings convulsively to the front seat, staring strained forward. The captain's evasive manoeuvres have not escaped his notice either. But he doesn't feel like chatting. He doesn't want to make a sacrifice to Neptune, the god of the sea. After an hour and a half of sailing, the lighthouse of the uninhabited island is visible. 

Arrival in Klein Curaçao

    A little later they are there. At last! The captain makes a turning manoeuvre, chugs up to the beach at a crawling pace. Now it's time to stow the shoes in the backpack and get into the water. Like landing soldiers, the passengers of Adrenaline Tours step from the stern into the lapping waters. A few more steps. "Hey, we're on Little Curaçao!" triumphs Karl's favourite female seafarer.

Relaxation on Little Curaçao

    Klein Curaçao has a wonderful beach that stretches along almost the entire 2.9-kilometre-long west side. But it is also, in a way, an enchanted island. At the time of the slave trade, all new arrivals were first held here in quarantine (40 days). Remnants of these quarantine dwellings can still be seen on the northwest corner of the island. Slaves and other passengers who did not survive the crossing were buried on the island. Remains of several graves can be seen in the southern part of the island. 

Still Life on the Beach

K and K first enjoy the beautiful side of the island. The sea seems even more turquoise here than elsewhere. Three other boats are moored off the beach. From a large catamaran anchored a little further out, the shrewd tour manager has apparently dumped a load of fish food into the sea. When the German snorkellers follow some blue parrotfish, they find themselves under the catamaran's skids. There, flakes hang in the water and it is teeming with gill-breathers in all colours snapping at them. But not only the fish, also the corals and their growth are a feast for the eyes in the crystal-clear water. 

View from wooden tower onto beach

    Behind the beach on the western shore, a few open palm-leaf huts have been erected for the day tourists. A palm-leaf-covered wooden tower is also among them, from which one can overlook the entire 1.7 square kilometres of the rather flat islet. Since phosphate was discovered here in the 1980s and the entire deposit was mined and shipped to Europe, the island has become even flatter than it already was.

Lighthouse of Klein Curaçao and shipwreck

    On the other, Atlantic side of the island, which is only 1.1 kilometres wide at its widest point, you can see the wreck of the Maria Bianca Guidesman, a small tanker that ran aground there in 1986. The captain must have thought the lighthouse was standing on the shore. But no, the Lighthouse - actually a tower, flanked by two now uninhabited houses - stands in the middle of the island. It is true that hurricanes are extremely rare in this part of the Caribbean. But in 1877, a hurricane destroyed the island's first lighthouse. Afterwards, the successor was placed in the middle of the island, along with two permanent multi-storey shelters. The clearly visible pile of rust that remains of the Maria Bianca possibly marks the location of lighthouse no. 1.

Abandoned in the middle of the island - The lighthouse

    As desolate as the island itself is, the underwater world that surrounds it is full of wonders. The coral reefs and underwater caves are a paradise for divers. But snorkellers K and K are also euphoric about the "pre-paradise" near the shore and what there is already to see in terms of colourfulness. They even said "hello" to a sea turtle swimming past.

    On the return trip with the Adrenalin boat, the sea is calmer. As they also have a light breeze at their backs, they are back much faster than they came. Back at the lodge, they have a lot to tell their holiday neighbours, Ulli and Jochen from Swabia, at dinner on the shared outdoor seating area. And the highlight of the evening is jazz at Williwood's!

    Spray pelted Karl more than once during the hard and eventful ride to Klein Curaçao on Friday. And he didn't always enjoy it. Foaming spray beyond measure thrills him on Saturday morning. K and K went to the northwest coast of the main island to the Shete Bokas National Park. These words in Papiamentu, that mixture of Portuguese, Dutch, Spanish, English and African dialects, mean "seven mouths". What is meant are deep cuts (more than seven) carved into the limestone cliffs by the Caribbean Sea.

Natural Bridge at Boka Wandomi

    The "Natural Bridge" at Boka Wandomi, where the sea has washed out a limestone arm, is one of the highlights of the coastal walk. Back to the starting point at Boka Tabla, K and K walk a little inland on a parallel path - a barren landscape with a little ground-level scrub and some tall cacti. The scenery is reminiscent of a Wild West movie. "I wouldn't be surprised if John Wayne came riding down from the mountain just over there," Karl says. On the other side of the road to Westpunt, the western tip of the island, rises the Sint Christoffelberg, at 375 metres the highest elevation on the island. 

    But an encounter of a special kind awaits them only at the car park at Boka Tabla. Suddenly, a grey-green creature with a long grey-black patterned tail emerges from under their rented car. He pauses for a few moments and allows himself to be photographed. He blinks with interest at the visitors from Germany. Then the iguana scurries away on all fours.

In the realm of the iguana

    They take the car to Boka Pistol, a few kilometres east of the main entrance. The drive is worth it. The sea waves spill into a narrow funnel and are shot up from the "pistol" as foaming spray. The numerous spectators cheer with excitement as the sea surges. Every swell is different. When Karl takes a panorama shot, which practically captures the film of a several-second pan as still, he captures the moments in the picture as the water shoots up and pours back towards the sea as a perfect arc. "Yes," he shouts contentedly against the roar of the waves. The very next swell makes the Boka Pistol react differently, it shoots like a shotgun. It doesn't produce a jet, but sprays up in all directions, creating a kind of water pyramid in front of the "Whoa!" and "Wow!" jeering onlookers.

Boka Pistol: Perfect arc and pyramid

    After this exciting nature experience, K and K want to treat themselves to an all-natural, quiet last afternoon on Curaçao. They have signed up at The Natural Curaçao. Karl has spared Kosimar the onward journey to the island's tip, Westpunt, as well as along the western south coast and its many beaches. He had already "inspected" them the winter before last, Playa Grandi, Grote Knip and Kleine Knip, Playa Lagun and Playa Cas Abao. "All quite charming, but all not a must once you feel comfortable in Daai Booi Baai," he says. So they head straight back in the direction of Willibrordus. In the middle of the island, they stop in front of the well-screened mini-resort "The Natural". They give their names over the intercom and are let in. Inside, clothing is optional. The pool, from which there is a beautiful view of the salt fields of the Saliña Sint Mari off Jan Kok, is almost entirely theirs. Most of the guests have flown out. "To be able to enjoy the mild air without disturbing clothes for once is simply wonderful," Kosimar confesses as she lolls on the lounger by the pool. A turpial also likes it here, lands on a pink sculpture at the edge of the pool and keeps them company with its flute.

View from "The Natural“

Turpial on lookout post

    They unexpectedly meet the Dutch "Natural" owners again in the evening - dressed this time. Saturday night at Williwood - apparently "all the world" from Willibrordus and the surrounding area meet there. Live music, barbecue and cool drinks - it's bubbling on the street corner in front of Sint Willibrordus. On the terrace of the Toko the guests are crowded together, on the forecourt all the benches are occupied. Some are even set up on the other side of the street. This is where K and K retreat to with their new friends from Swabia, as you can hardly understand your own words in the buzz on the terrace. Over a few glasses of red wine, the four of them review their days together at Jan Kok Lodge in good humour. Ulli and Jochen stay another week, while K and K also want to get to know the neighbouring island of Bonaire.

    "Tomorrow we leave the autonomous country of Curaçao, which belongs to the Kingdom of the Netherlands, and land in the Netherlands proper after a 25-minute flight. The inhabitants of Bonaire have decided in a referendum to remain in the Netherlands, within which their island now has the status of a 'special municipality'," Karl explains. "Well, have a good trip to Holland! Cheers!" says Jochen with a beaming face and raises his glass. Kosimar toasts and announces, "Well then, from Holland to Holland! But hopefully we'll see each other again in Swabia." "Well, or on Curaçao. Because before the flight back to Germany, we'll be in Willemstad again for a few hours and take a detour into Dutch colonial history at the Curaçao Museum," Karl announces. "Let's see," says Ulli. "I think the main thing for the next week is the beach." "Yes, yes, I understand," Karl replies. "Het leven is mooi bij Kees op Daai Booi. Life is beautiful at Kees' in Daai Booi."

1  Names such as Williwood of restaurants, hotels, other localities and companies as well as foreign-language quotations and expressions are italicised in the following, while geographical names are not. 

2 TUI Group is a German leisure, travel and tourism company. TUI is an acronym for Touristik Union International.

Bonaire - Colourful Underwater World

    „Alright, now I want to know," Kosimar reminds her husband of his promise as they sit on the plane to Bonaire on Sunday morning. "So what is the difference between the Caribbean Netherlands and the Dutch Caribbean?" Karl takes a deep breath and tries to explain: "The Netherlands Antilles were dissolved in October 2010 after various referendums. Curaçao and Sint Maarten - like Aruba before them in 1986 - were given the status of autonomous countries within the Kingdom of the Netherlands. Since then, the Kingdom has consisted of four countries: the Netherlands in the narrower sense, Aruba, Curaçao and Sint Maarten. The smaller islands of Bonaire, Saba and Sint Eustatius, whose inhabitants had voted against full autonomy in the referendums, have since been regarded as 'special municipalities' within the Netherlands in the narrower sense. These three islands thus form the Caribbean Netherlands. All former colonial territories of the Kingdom in the Caribbean together, i.e. including the autonomous countries, have since been referred to as the Dutch Caribbean.

    "Phew," Kosimar groans, "after so many quibbles, I finally want to get to know the Caribbean Netherlands for real." No sooner said than done, this wish comes true. After only a 25-minute flight, the small Insel Air plane lands at Flamingo Airport on the outskirts of Bonaire's "capital" Kralendijk. The airport building is as pink as the bird it is named after. The colour immediately creates a holiday mood.

Flamingo Airport

    From the airport, which seems so friendly, it is only about a kilometre's drive to The Bonarian, K and K's hotel a little south of the airport, directly on the coast. During the three-minute taxi ride, the two get a taste of the Papiamentu spoken here. Gustavo, the driver, lectures: "By the way, the street in front of the airport is called Kaya International - Kaya like Calle in Spanish (english: street), pronounced 'kaje'. We have many words here with Spanish roots."

    The two arrivals are immediately taken with the comfort and elegance of the facility. From the partly tiled, partly wooden terrace, where they have their welcome drinks, they look across to the bay of Kralendijk. It stretches far to the north in a crescent shape. Behind the main town, which together with its suburbs is home to about 16,000 of the island's 18,000 inhabitants, gentle hills rise. In front of Kralendijk, whose name comes from the Dutch word for coral dike, the flat and uninhabited island of Klein Bonaire can be seen in the crescent of the bay. "Look," Karl says, pointing to the leaflet with the map of the island. "It's practically circular and - what we can't see from here, of course - it's surrounded by a coral reef all around underwater. A true diver's paradise. This round island has a natural dyke, so to speak, a coral dyke."

    The hotel manager has to go to town anyway. So he takes the two of them in his pick-up to the "Coral Dyke". He drops them off at the Plasa Wilhelmina. The square is named after King Willem-Alexander's great-grandmother. In front of the yellow-and-white, colonial-style government building, Sunday peace reigns like in a small Dutch town at church time. This does not change as they walk along the waterfront to the row of houses with shops and colourful restaurants. Almost all the restaurants are closed. Only Karel's Beach Bar