Many see Aruba as simply another Caribbean Island destination. While similarities to other protectorates abound, its geography and politics make it a different experience from the US & British Virgin Islands, Bahamas, and Jamaica.
First, its Dutch colonial status means that citizens receive substantial benefits in terms of education and basic standards of living. For the island, this prompted a highly defensive posture towards immigration; population has only grown marginally, and then only due to the periodic influx of construction workers, spawned by the development of hotels. So you don't see the pervasive poverty and consequently, crime and hostility towards foreigners that you find in other island nations. This is perfect for us. It means we can trek the island without fear for our lives.
The capital city, Orangstad, is really an urban concentration which accounts for most of the residential section of the island. Stretching to the north and south along the western side of the island, it's the center and the settlements to the north and south are more like indistinct suburban neighborhoods. It's small - 67 square miles; not even as large as Nantucket. The downtown area is populated with a tramway running along winding streets constructed in an homage to Dutch style architecture with brightly painted houses and storefronts sporting gambrel roofs with curved eaves. This is the section of town that gets flooded by the cruise ships disgorging their sunburned and overfed cargo on a daily basis. Walking around during this tide of sunburn red is distinctly like Tokyo rush hour.
But I felt comfortable taking a walk past the tourist trap and into the neighborhoods beyond which are quiet. I was looking for a FitBit charger, and I found as a faux i-store in the center of the island which looked promising, I made a mental note of its location from Google Maps, on a central north south road, and left my phone with Karen to make her work calls in the room and set out for a nice roam.
You have to be careful roaming because, without a point of reference on this flat island, the streets tend to meander. With no gridiron, and the sun to set the east-west axis hidden by clouds, I quickly found myself WAY off track. No catastrophe. Working my way back I marveled at the neat, clean homes and streets of the citizenry so unlike what I see in other island nations. I also noted that what looked like red mud all over the streets and sidewalks was, in fact, spent firecracker casings. It was after New Years' and, according to one of our drivers, Arubans LOVE their fireworks. For the 5 days we were there, we heard constant staccato reports of firecrackers and saw nightly volunteer firework displays above the neighborhood skylines.
As cheery as the fireworks appeared, I saw it as evidence of a more inimical trend; the Chinese have bought everything here. All of the stores, convenience markets and even local restaurants, bear peculiar signs; Hong Fing Home Goods, Shanghai Hardware, Guilin Market and so on. Strange to see such Sino economic dominance in the shadow of the US. It makes me feel that they are eating the US' lunch. From this and other trips abroad, I start to think that perhaps our view of the the US as the pre-eminent global economy is a romantic fairy tale. Xièxiè.
We are still tourists, and we always want to report to recommendations we get from our friends, so we decided our first trek would involve walking through town, then down along the quay, to have sunset cocktails at Pinchos. Here's my TripAdvisor Review.
Set astride a dock, access is from a beach onto a gated dock. You wander over the water to the host's station. We didn't have a reservation, so we asked to sit at the bar to catch the daily ritual. With few clouds, we were treated to a complete sunset. A friendly, if somewhat slow and dysfunctional bar and kitchen staff, managed to serve us strong drinks and hot food without significant mishap. Our bartender, a huge Aruban, was the entertainment part of the experience, while a more diminutive barmaid actually served us and checked on our orders.
Right there on the bar, in our view, was a rudimentary cook top which served as the kitchen. Here is where the components of food are assembled without the assistance of a complete kitchen. Ingenious! We weren't going to eat a meal here, but the scent of fresh vegetables sauteing caused us to change our minds. My view is: always order the local specialties. Hidden on a menu populated with dishes, meats and fish familiar to Americans, was Aruban fishcakes.
I like fishcakes because I know it will be local catch that doesn't normally pass diner scrutiny the way popular names like Red Snapper, Grouper, Tuna or Mahi Mahi do. More common Aruba catch like Barracuda, Shark or Blue Marlin, as well as other local pan fish, aren't recognized as edible by Americans, so they make it into the local fish soup, ceviche or fish cakes. Most restaurants on the island, and we did visit a few of the exceptions, serve imported fish or at a minimum supplement. There's simply not a large enough fishing fleet or local fauna to feed all the tourists who come here to eat.
The fishcakes were good, without any expired fish flavor, and were mildly seasoned so inoffensive, though not dramatic. Our other plates included the black angus sliders: which were predictably filling, and unique only in that they were served with an assortment of unusual condiments - aruban spicy ketchup, a hollandaise style aoli. They forgot our sauteed vegetables, ironically, since that got us started on eating in the first place, and we ate those last after we weren't really hungry anymore. When leaving after nightfall we noticed underwater lights. While murky, you could easily spend time mesmerized by that microcosm of large fish balancing catching and eating smaller fish, while trying to escape being eaten by even larger fish. As you might imagine, at Pinchos we enjoyed the drinks, venue and view more than the cuisine or service.
Further, the sunset highlighted an unusual scene - three massive oil derricks anchored in mothballs 10 miles offshore in the lee of the island. It was hard to escape that vista since the rigs are visible from most of the beaches on the west side of the island.
In fact, Aruba's history is quite oil-soaked. Amoco Oil built a WWI refinery here, which operated at full capacity through WWII. The main road is named after L.G. Smith, the man who built and ran the refinery. Economic realities diminished the use of the facility, which had been mothballed off and on for 70 years, until Citgo came and re-opened the facility in 2016 to serve as a mid-point refinery for Venezuelan heavy crude. This seems like a tragic development as, until this time, one of the most picturesque points on Aruba - Baby Beach in San Nicholas - was merely compromised by a post-industrial spectre. With the plant in operation, processin
g 235,000 barrels a day, expect the skyline to contain streams of gaseous effluent, as I witnessed on January 3.
Rain had driven the cruise ship passengers into the shopping district. To get away from them we set out to walk up to the High Rise Hotel district which is where the most beautiful beaches are reported. January is the rainy season on this desert island, and the streets quickly get overwhelmed by downpours, so we also had to dodge passenger car and bus launched walls of water. It's surprising for a country with so little crime that the walking aspect of the island doesn't get much appreciation. 1.) Along the quay, past the cruise ship terminals and storage facilities, you lose the sidewalks and bike paths that run along the shore. And because there is no beach on this part of the island, just rocky coast, there is no circumnavigation by sand. 2.) So we wove our way through waterside resorts until fencing prevented it, and bailed out onto the main road. 3.) We found an entry back to the beach and off the road at Eagle Beach, which we followed until we saw the high-rise hotels and decided to see what all the buzz was about. 4.) Palm Beach, unfortunately, sits across from the high density hotels. It's what you'd expect from tourist areas; gaudy restaurants, trinket and t-shirt shops and vendors, and a huge mall sporting high end luxury goods. It's even hard to find a place to buy bottled water, though I found a liquor store selling expensive refrigerated varieties. On the other hand, compared to other tropical locales, we were not accosted by poverty stricken vendors demanding handouts or aggressively hawking. I guess there is a balancing point between authentic and over-developed which is difficult to strike.
Since we had gotten off the beach, it took a little maneuvering to try and find a pedestrian friendly route back. Not wanting to backtrack all the way to where we entered the tourist zone, we zigged and zagged until we found a nondescript alley that served as a delivery access for the tourist junket dock. From there we cut through the Marriott resorts and walked to the end of Palm Beach, where the Ritz-Carlton beckoned with a cosmo for Karen; there has to be a reward for every epic walk.
First, its Dutch colonial status means that citizens receive substantial benefits in terms of education and basic standards of living. For the island, this prompted a highly defensive posture towards immigration; population has only grown marginally, and then only due to the periodic influx of construction workers, spawned by the development of hotels. So you don't see the pervasive poverty and consequently, crime and hostility towards foreigners that you find in other island nations. This is perfect for us. It means we can trek the island without fear for our lives.
Downtown Orangstad
The capital city, Orangstad, is really an urban concentration which accounts for most of the residential section of the island. Stretching to the north and south along the western side of the island, it's the center and the settlements to the north and south are more like indistinct suburban neighborhoods. It's small - 67 square miles; not even as large as Nantucket. The downtown area is populated with a tramway running along winding streets constructed in an homage to Dutch style architecture with brightly painted houses and storefronts sporting gambrel roofs with curved eaves. This is the section of town that gets flooded by the cruise ships disgorging their sunburned and overfed cargo on a daily basis. Walking around during this tide of sunburn red is distinctly like Tokyo rush hour.
But I felt comfortable taking a walk past the tourist trap and into the neighborhoods beyond which are quiet. I was looking for a FitBit charger, and I found as a faux i-store in the center of the island which looked promising, I made a mental note of its location from Google Maps, on a central north south road, and left my phone with Karen to make her work calls in the room and set out for a nice roam.
You have to be careful roaming because, without a point of reference on this flat island, the streets tend to meander. With no gridiron, and the sun to set the east-west axis hidden by clouds, I quickly found myself WAY off track. No catastrophe. Working my way back I marveled at the neat, clean homes and streets of the citizenry so unlike what I see in other island nations. I also noted that what looked like red mud all over the streets and sidewalks was, in fact, spent firecracker casings. It was after New Years' and, according to one of our drivers, Arubans LOVE their fireworks. For the 5 days we were there, we heard constant staccato reports of firecrackers and saw nightly volunteer firework displays above the neighborhood skylines.
As cheery as the fireworks appeared, I saw it as evidence of a more inimical trend; the Chinese have bought everything here. All of the stores, convenience markets and even local restaurants, bear peculiar signs; Hong Fing Home Goods, Shanghai Hardware, Guilin Market and so on. Strange to see such Sino economic dominance in the shadow of the US. It makes me feel that they are eating the US' lunch. From this and other trips abroad, I start to think that perhaps our view of the the US as the pre-eminent global economy is a romantic fairy tale. Xièxiè.
Sunset at Pinchos
We are still tourists, and we always want to report to recommendations we get from our friends, so we decided our first trek would involve walking through town, then down along the quay, to have sunset cocktails at Pinchos. Here's my TripAdvisor Review.
Set astride a dock, access is from a beach onto a gated dock. You wander over the water to the host's station. We didn't have a reservation, so we asked to sit at the bar to catch the daily ritual. With few clouds, we were treated to a complete sunset. A friendly, if somewhat slow and dysfunctional bar and kitchen staff, managed to serve us strong drinks and hot food without significant mishap. Our bartender, a huge Aruban, was the entertainment part of the experience, while a more diminutive barmaid actually served us and checked on our orders.
Right there on the bar, in our view, was a rudimentary cook top which served as the kitchen. Here is where the components of food are assembled without the assistance of a complete kitchen. Ingenious! We weren't going to eat a meal here, but the scent of fresh vegetables sauteing caused us to change our minds. My view is: always order the local specialties. Hidden on a menu populated with dishes, meats and fish familiar to Americans, was Aruban fishcakes.
I like fishcakes because I know it will be local catch that doesn't normally pass diner scrutiny the way popular names like Red Snapper, Grouper, Tuna or Mahi Mahi do. More common Aruba catch like Barracuda, Shark or Blue Marlin, as well as other local pan fish, aren't recognized as edible by Americans, so they make it into the local fish soup, ceviche or fish cakes. Most restaurants on the island, and we did visit a few of the exceptions, serve imported fish or at a minimum supplement. There's simply not a large enough fishing fleet or local fauna to feed all the tourists who come here to eat.
The fishcakes were good, without any expired fish flavor, and were mildly seasoned so inoffensive, though not dramatic. Our other plates included the black angus sliders: which were predictably filling, and unique only in that they were served with an assortment of unusual condiments - aruban spicy ketchup, a hollandaise style aoli. They forgot our sauteed vegetables, ironically, since that got us started on eating in the first place, and we ate those last after we weren't really hungry anymore. When leaving after nightfall we noticed underwater lights. While murky, you could easily spend time mesmerized by that microcosm of large fish balancing catching and eating smaller fish, while trying to escape being eaten by even larger fish. As you might imagine, at Pinchos we enjoyed the drinks, venue and view more than the cuisine or service.
Further, the sunset highlighted an unusual scene - three massive oil derricks anchored in mothballs 10 miles offshore in the lee of the island. It was hard to escape that vista since the rigs are visible from most of the beaches on the west side of the island.
In fact, Aruba's history is quite oil-soaked. Amoco Oil built a WWI refinery here, which operated at full capacity through WWII. The main road is named after L.G. Smith, the man who built and ran the refinery. Economic realities diminished the use of the facility, which had been mothballed off and on for 70 years, until Citgo came and re-opened the facility in 2016 to serve as a mid-point refinery for Venezuelan heavy crude. This seems like a tragic development as, until this time, one of the most picturesque points on Aruba - Baby Beach in San Nicholas - was merely compromised by a post-industrial spectre. With the plant in operation, processing 235,000 barrels a day, expect the skyline to contain streams of gaseous effluent, as I witnessed on January 3.
Rainy Day Trek to Palm Beach Aruba
Rain had driven the cruise ship passengers into the shopping district. To get away from them we set out to walk up to the High Rise Hotel district which is where the most beautiful beaches are reported. January is the rainy season on this desert island, and the streets quickly get overwhelmed by downpours, so we also had to dodge passenger car and bus launched walls of water. It's surprising for a country with so little crime that the walking aspect of the island doesn't get much appreciation. 1.) Along the quay, past the cruise ship terminals and storage facilities, you lose the sidewalks and bike paths that run along the shore. And because there is no beach on this part of the island, just rocky coast, there is no circumnavigation by sand. 2.) So we wove our way through waterside resorts until fencing prevented it, and bailed out onto the main road. 3.) We found an entry back to the beach and off the road at Eagle Beach, which we followed until we saw the high-rise hotels and decided to see what all the buzz was about. 4.) Palm Beach, unfortunately, sits across from the high density hotels. It's what you'd expect from tourist areas; gaudy restaurants, trinket and t-shirt shops and vendors, and a huge mall sporting high end luxury goods. It's even hard to find a place to buy bottled water, though I found a liquor store selling expensive refrigerated varieties. On the other hand, compared to other tropical locales, we were not accosted by poverty stricken vendors demanding handouts or aggressively hawking. I guess there is a balancing point between authentic and over-developed which is difficult to strike.
Since we had gotten off the beach, it took a little maneuvering to try and find a pedestrian friendly route back. Not wanting to backtrack all the way to where we entered the tourist zone, we zigged and zagged until we found a nondescript alley that served as a delivery access for the tourist junket dock. From there we cut through the Marriott resorts and walked to the end of Palm Beach, where the Ritz-Carlton beckoned with a cosmo for Karen; there has to be a reward for every epic walk.
