Aruba

The first leg.

 

We spent a day in Aruba, including a USD$15 taxi ride, a USD$40 night at what would be called here a "por rato" hotel. A "love hotel," with constant comings and goings (haw haw) of our fellow hotel patrons all night long. I suppose those're the dangers of arriving somewhere at night and asking the customs official where you can find a "cheap hotel."

 

If you stay near the cruise ships and fancy hotels, Aruba looks every bit like the "island paradise" it's advertised to be. Fat white people, some pasty and some wrinkled by decades in the sun, tromp around, stepping into Baskin Robbins for a bite of ice cream between shopping at Salvatore Ferragamo, Louis Vuitton, or one of the hundreds of perfume specialty shops. The streets are clean, decorated. Quaint little bridges and fountains abound. The hotels in the area have grand, spiralling staircases. Everyone is dressed in a uniform that looks like something inspired by Dora the Explorer.

 

On the other hand, if you hop a public bus and cut across town away from the ritzy coast, it looks like anything but an "island paradise." 70% of buildings are unoccupied, in disrepair, slowly crumbly. The majority of the shops have bars on all windows. Graffiti covers the walls. People are walking not in Seven jeans, Gucci bags, Omega watches, but in flip-flops wearing through the bottom, ratty jeans or slacks.

 

We caught a short flight from Aruba to Las Piedras/Punto Fijo in Venezuela. USD$100 on Tiara Air, an Aruba airline. We're in Venezuela now and I couldn't be happier about it. Things feel like a known quantity. Things are affordable. I feel like I know "the game" here. It's such an enormous relief to be in Latin America and out of whatever sort of purgatory Aruba represents.

 

We're in Coro now, on our way to Maracaibo this afternoon. More later.