Day 8-Monday, December 14, 2009

Well, today was our last full day in Curacao and I truly believe that we made the most of it. First, I have one more bodily injury update. This morning when I woke up, the first thing Shelli said to me was “I am ready to go home now.” When I inquired as to why, she threw back the sheet and revealed to my horror a bottom lip swollen to possibly three times its size! She’d been bitten by a mosquito right on her lip, and it had a spectacular swell that was further emphasized by Shelli’s indelible pout. My poor baby! I encouraged her that we only had one more night to go, and agreed that it would be nice to be back in our own bed, not having to worry about being feasted on by mosquitoes or sweltering through the night under a sheet tent.

We got moving around 10:00 a.m., back off to Willemstad Punda. This time it was my turn to shop for clothes. We hadn’t spent much time in town on the first visit, so we also  really wanted to walk around and explore the rest of it, this being our last chance to do so this visit (we will definitely be back!!). First, shoe shopping at the Adidas store where I bought 2 cool pairs of beaded flip flops. Shelli picked up a couple more t-shirts which were on sale.

In the next store I finally found a few dresses and shirts in my size. They were all beautiful, but given the amount of money left in the budget, I could only purchase a few of the items I had picked out. Still, it was nice to have my fears of not finding anything in my size in Curacao be unfounded. While there isn’t a Lane Bryant, Ashley Stewart, Torrid, or Mode Plus, several of the stores do carry “big sizes”, usually up to 3x, which is my size, and I even saw some 4x. I wish I could recall the names of the shops themselves, to help out my big sisters that might be reading this blog as they plan a trip to Curacao and are curious where to shop. Unfortunately as of this writing I don’t recall the names and I’m too lazy to dig up the receipts at the moment. In lieu of, here’s my best general advice to a big girl (sizes 18 and up) shopping in Curacao:

1. Visit EVERY store, and look at EVERYTHING. If you find an item that you like, either ask the salespeople if they carry it in your size, or if you are too shy for that, then go to the rack that the item is on, and look in the back of the rack for the larger/largest sizes.

2. If you are a size 20 or higher, don’t bother with any of the apparel items that say One Size Fits All or Free Size. Take it from me, a proud size 24/26 (that’s right I ain’t ashamed to blog it!) that one/free size does NOT fit you.

3. Try everything on! Every shop we went into had private dressing rooms, and the people are very friendly and helpful. Seriously. Don’t grab and buy. Grab, TRY, and buy. Even stuff in your size can turn out to be very unflattering in the mirror. Better to be sure that you want what you’ve got before you go to barter with the cashier on its price.

After I’d spent all the money I was willing to spend on myself, Shelli and I began to tour the town in earnest. It was a warm and beautiful day, and not very busy. There seemed to be more locals than tourists milling about. We entered this round building labeled “department store” and marveled at the many consecutive tables that were overflowing with hair relaxers and other beauty products. It really stuck me as odd to see HAIR STRAIGHTENER everywhere I turned, and I realized why our afros were so “foreign” to people. We grabbed a few souvenirs for our families, purchased a beautifully carved wooden box (I negotiated $15 off the price) for ourselves, and then headed away from the more bustling parts of town towards the water. We snapped pictures as we went along. The great thing about international travel is that your eyes seem to be open to unique gems all around you–things that say “You are not in America. You are here.” License plates, bumper stickers, and even the graffiti in foreign languages all gave me this feeling. It was quite a rush!

On the way towards the waterfront, we passed this beautiful mural that had caught my eye on the first visit from Thursday. It was a colorful and lively flower garden mural that was part painting, part sculpture. It was so beautiful, and yet hidden out of place in a narrow alley–you might miss it unless you have an expressed affinity for flowers and butterflies like I do and are drawn to either by the sheer need to delight in their beauty. The mural was so large, it was impossible to capture in photo so I asked Shelli to try and get a panoramic video of it on our digital camera. As she was doing so, a gentleman approached us in the alley, and asked if we liked the art. We told him we loved it, and he said that he was the artist. We were thrilled and took a picture of him in front of his work. Shelli asked him if there were anymore installations like it in town, and he offered to show us another one. We walked towards the center of town, then around another corner to find a stunning sculpture of a blue woman. “This one is not my art” he told us. But boy, it was pretty! I took a picture of it and we thanked him for showing it to us with a few local gilders. We snapped a few more photos around town before I started to get hot and miss the water. We decided to catch the bus back, walking to the bushalte along the waterfront, which had a view that looked straight out of a postcard.

We got back to the resort with a few hours to spare before our massage appointment, so I was quickly back in my suit and back in the water. After cooling off from a dip, Shelli and I sat at the Beach Grille under one of the fronded huts on the shore and drank countless margaritas. Suddenly the sky got a little cloudier and it began to sprinkle, so we headed back to the room to shower for our massage.

I had been fantasizing about getting an sunset massage on the ocean since I first read about the spa service in the brochure on the internet after booking our stay. So, I was more than a little disappointed when we arrived at the spa and were informed that our massage could not take place on the beach, due to rain. We could either get a massage inside, or reschedule. But since we leave tomorrow, rescheduling was not an option. We ended up getting our massages inside–it was still very nice and relaxing, even though it couldn’t possibly compare to the bliss of an ocean sunset massage. Once again, next time. Perhaps to compensate for the last minute change in venue, the masseuses did throw in some hot stone work during the massage, much to my pleasure (Hot Stone Massage would have been my second choice to the Ocean Sunset Massage). My masseuse really worked my shoulder out, and as with any massage or pampering treatment, it was over far too soon.

We left the spa relaxed and happy enough, especially since the experience had been at no cost to us, thanks to the Curacao Now coupon–we didn’t even have to tip! We stopped by the gift store again to purchase some stamps and postcards to send home to our parents, then went back to the room to change for dinner.

We had our last dinner back at the Starlight Grille. We both ordered the same thing–beef for me, ribs for Shelli. Skipped the carrot cake this time. We didn’t linger long after dinner, since we still had to pack and I wanted to get up early to have one more go at the water before we had to check out and catch the 12:30 shuttle to the airport. 8 days into the honeymoon and it only just NOW occurred to me that I could fill my water bottle with cocktails from the bar to take back to the room and enjoy later. I can’t believe it! Oh well…we drank plenty this week, and now I have plenty to drink tonight as we pack up.

Tomorrow is our last morning here, and then a long afternoon and evening of traveling back home. I’m not really sad about leaving–like I said, we made the most of this vacation, and we are missing our bed. If there is any regret to be had, it’s that we never got to find/visit that gay bar, Lyric’s Gay Cafe! Next time! Well, tomorrow I’ll write my last Curacao Honeymoon blog. Until then, sunchi sunchi dushi (kiss kiss sweetheart)!

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Day 7-Sunday, December 13, 2009

The word of today is ADVENTURE. Today seems crammed packed with it, beginning with our early morning introduction to Scuba diving. A tense night of sleep, fearful of mosquito bites, made us quite willing to pounce out of bed at 8:00 a.m. this morning and head down the shore to our Intro to Scuba Diving appointment. When I got to the dock, I was glad to know that a pretty and pleasant young girl named Kya would be working with us, and not the crotchety Australian, although he was there and glowered visibly at me.

We waited about for a bit, then Kya was introducing herself to us, getting our sizes, and laying out our tanks. My heart was pounding like the cops at a crack house, but I think I managed to remain calm on the outside. She asked our weight and I balked at the question because I didn’t want to be deemed too overweight to scuba, so I told her I was 50 points lighter than I am. Shelli said I should have been a little more truthful, because she was asking to ensure my equipment was heavy enough to sink me, but I told her I’d cross that bridge when I didn’t sink under it.

Soon enough we were suited up in our vests, adorned with weight belts, and finally, yoked to air tanks. The equipment was EXTREMELY heavy. If it didn’t sink me, I wasn’t meant to be sunk. Kya went over the basic diving hand signals for us–I’m OK (same as in ASL–the thumb and index finger make a circle and the remaining fingers stay up; Go Up (Thumbs Up sign, not to be confused with I’m OK), Something’s Wrong (flexing your hand back and forth, palm down), and the most horrifying one, Out of Air, Let’s Share (cut throat, then bringing your hand to your mouth in a beckoning motion that means “BRING ME YOUR SPARE REGULATOR OR I AM GOING TO DIE!”) She also taught us how to equalize the pressure in our ears (plugging your nose and breathing against your nostrils), and reminded us of the importance to KEEP BREATHING using a little chart that shows what happens to the lungs under water pressure. We practiced inflating and deflating our vests, then we were ready to practice in the water.

Much to my relief, the first trial run took place in one of the resort swimming pools. We waddled over there in full equipment, and stepped into the pool. In the water, Kya instructed us to completely deflate our vests, then meet her under water on our knees, so we could practice the hand signals. Sounded simple enough. I spit in, rinsed, and put on my mask, puckered up to my regulator, deflated my vest, and dropped to my knees. And swiftly began practicing the “something’s wrong” signal as my nose and mask bubbled, filling up quickly with water, and instead of my knees touching the ground, my legs floated back and up, almost flipping me over. She gave me the signal to re-inflate my vest. When my head broke the surface, I explained to her that the seal around my nose wasn’t tight, so I was taking in a lot of water in my mask, up my nose, and choking on it. She advised me to tighten my mask around my head, and to try standing on one knee instead of both under water, to give more balance. I deflated and tried again, and it was OK signal. Once we got settled on the floor, she led us through NO AIR and the process of changing to a dive buddy’s spare regulator, then back to our own regulators. The moment I connected to Shelli’s regulator was a little spiritual though–something about breathing the same air made me feel close to her in a different way, especially when I imagined it in an emergency situation. Then we let a little water into our masks so we could practice emptying water from the mask under water. I choked and sputtered on the latter, but still she said I did it right, and there wasn’t any more water in my mask. Even though we went through these exercises, I prayed to God that I would neither have the need to share Shelli’s regulator, nor empty water from my mask, while we were in open water. Next she told us to take practice laps around the pool, to practice inflating/deflating our vests to achieve an ideal level for swimming on the dive. This took lots of effort for me–on the first lap, I was either over-deflated and scraping along the bottom of the swimming pool, or over-inflated and snorkeling from the top. The second lap went a little better. I managed to even kick my fins a bit.

Sooner than I felt I was ready, Kya announced it was “time to see some fish!” and we climbed out of the pool and headed back to the dock for our shore dive. The moment of truth was before me, and more startling than I imagined. “OK”, Kya said. “Fully inflate your vests so you’ll resurface immediately in the water. Take one hand and cover your regulator so it doesn’t slip out. Take the other hand and press your index and middle finger against the 2 lenses of your mask to hold it tight, take a deep breath and then take one big step off the dock into the water…” Umm…excuse me? Step off the dock? As in jump in? With all this equipment on? Are you f*ucking kidding me?! There’s a ladder or something right? She wasn’t and there wasn’t, because the next thing I knew, she was gone, having taken that daring step, with not even a “farewell” but a rather simple, “…like this.”

After she dived, there was a moment on the dock when Shelli and I just looked at each other. All my fight or flight instincts were flaring–I really did NOT want to jump my fat ass into the ocean baring 50 lbs of equipment for the SOLE PURPOSE of sinking to the bottom to look at fish. When I saw that Shelli looked ready to go, I asked her to wait. “Let me go first,” I said. “Because if you jump in, and leave me up here as the last to go, I’ll never go.” Shelli gave the “after you” wave, and it was all up to me, with the added pressure of making Shelli wait. I knew I had to stop thinking about doing it, and just DO SO. So I did. A million “could go wrongs” floating through my mind suddenly dissolved as I stepped off the dock and splashed into the water, resurfacing immediately as Kya had promised. Shelli’s splash was not far behind. We all gave the OK sign, then Kya gave the signal to deflate. I deflated my vest and immediately sank all the way to the bottom. I panicked when my feet touched the bottom, because I learned on our last vacation in Hawaii that stepping on coral kills it. I didn’t want to kill coral, but in hindsight I doubt it was coral that close to the shore!! I re-inflated a little bit and was OK signal again.

She gave the “follow me” signal and we began to swim while she unraveled a line attached to a DIVERS BELOW buoy that remained on the surface. We swam about, were soon beyond the shore and definitely deeper because I had to equalize my ears. She gave the “fish” signal and indeed, there were schools of tropical fish scattered about as far as I could see. I was still having quite a bit of trouble regulating my floatation. Several times I broke the surface, which was scary because the current was really rough and the open water waves are much bigger than those behind the resort’s breakwater wall. I was being tossed around. Shelli seemed to be having similar problems. I also started to catch a cramp in my foot from the drag of my fin, but it wasn’t bad enough to give the “something’s wrong” signal. Still, I tried to keep up….or down rather…with Kya.

Before I knew it, Kya was turning back to shore. Funny how fast 20 minutes goes by when you are breathing under water. Swimming back towards shore was more difficult, again because of the strong current, especially with my crampy foot. Within moments, both Shelli and Kya were out of my eyesight. I began to panic too because after a few breaststrokes and kicks I still didn’t see them, and I thought I might have been swimming in the wrong direction! It was really hard to tell because I was still close to the surface, to the water was rougher and not clear. Just when I was thinking about giving the “something’s wrong” signal, I saw a moving darkness ahead that looked like fins, and I swam toward it as hard as I could. It was Kya and Shelli, and they were back at the breakwater wall. She gave the “Go Up” sign, and we all surfaced. She instructed us to put on our snorkels, turn over on our backs, and swim back to the dock. I tried to do this, but was losing the battle with the current. Kya swam over, and grabbed me, attempting to swim me back. “Kick your fins” she instructed, but the cramp in my foot was suddenly a burn, making it more and more painful to try and swim. Still, I gave it my all because clearly her tiny frame was not going to be able to pull me through that current without all the help I could give her.

People let me tell you, I heard angels sing when my hands touched the ladder at the dock. Shelli took my fins and let me up the ladder first, then she and Kya followed. It was good to be back on solid ground, but as we were de-tanking I acknowledged the overwhelming desire to go again, and for a longer period of time, washing over me. We brought Kya a plate of breakfast from the buffet as a thank-you, and she offered to take some pictures of us in our scuba gear. 

I will definitely scuba again, and maybe even get PADI certified in my lifetime! Shelli said she was totally exhilarated by the experience. Scuba definitely spanks snorkel’s ass! Did I mention that it was all included in our Breezes Curacao package? ROCK!

We were supposed to go to town today after scuba diving, but I found out the shops are closed on Sunday. So, I think we’ll just hang out on the resort, and do what there is to do, which is a lot! 🙂 Shelli has suggested we go sailing again. I’m down!
 

Night 7

Well, scuba diving was definitely not enough breathing under water for one day for me, so after we had lunch and cocktails at one of the resort bars, I suggested to Shelli that we snorkel. I checked out 2 masks (no fins–my feet were still a little crampy, and the fins had been really painful for Shelli’s fractured toe) and met Shelli back at the beach in front of our room. Because I had snorkeled the previous day, I had a pretty good idea of where the schools of fish were congregating, so I told Shelli to follow me. 

Sadly, Shelli was having a lot of problems with her mask fogging, and it was already hard enough for her to see without her glasses on. No amount of spit seemed to stop her mask from fogging, and we both took several good hocks at it! So, I gave her my mask, which was fine, and we snorkeled briefly before Shelli decided to get out. I didn’t snorkel much longer myself, because I noticed that the rougher waters had drastically reduced the number and variety of schools. Waves were crashing so hard over the breakwater wall that it stayed very busy and looked murky underwater. The few fish I did see seemed to be running for their lives! So, I gave up myself after a little while, and went swimming in the resort pool next to our room. 

It had become my new favorite thing to take a dip in the water, so I did so as often as possible by taking the pools across the resort instead of walking around, or going from the ocean to the swimming pool to rinse off, or walking along the ocean shore instead of walking the sidewalks through the resort’s gardens to return to our room. While Shelli seemed mostly content to lay out in the sun in her sexy new bathing suits, and didn’t get in the water much at all, I couldn’t get enough of swimming and being wet. I explained to Shelli that I love to be in the water because #1 I hate to be hot and sweaty, and #2 it’s one of the rare moments in my life when I get to feel weightless. And when you weigh as much as I weigh, those are heavenly moments!!

After my brief swim, I laid down across the bed for a while for a brief nap, being lulled to sleep more by the heavy ocean breeze flowing through the sheer curtains covering our open patio doors and the ocean’s idyllic crash, than actual fatigue. I slept for only an hour, and then Shelli and I went back to the watersports tent to go for another sail. Herein lies the adventure of the evening!

Given that the waters were already clearly choppy from the strong winds and heavy current, as we discovered during scuba, this sailing trip was a lot more exciting than the first! Still clinging for our lives, but now the sail seemed unbalanced, tilting us to dangerous angles as it leapt waves. I moved across the catamaran in hopes of balancing it out, and our sailor seemed to navigate it to calmer waters. However, I started to notice that we had been out sailing longer this trip than the previous. While we had asked us earlier if we wanted to go out further (we said sure), we appeared to be REALLY far away from the resort, especially given the amount of time we’d been out, and the speed at which the sun was setting behind us. Our sailor was suddenly frantically adjusting the lines of the sailing equipment. Curious! “The wind is no bueno,” he told us. Hmmm….Soon we seemed to be heading back in the DIRECTION of the resort, but we certainly weren’t getting there any faster. “The wind is no good.” He said again. OK…..? I joked to Shelli, “Wouldn’t it be funny if they had to come out here and rescue us?”

Let this be a lesson to watch what you say, because 10 mins later, I noticed a speed boat approaching in the distance. Yes folks, they were coming to rescue us from the catamaran! I couldn’t help but laugh as it approached us, and the men aboard began yelling to our sailor in Papiamento. (BTW, at no point during the conversation did I recognize the word “Lesbi”.) They pulled up close to us, and told us to climb on board their boat and they’d take us back. We did, and I watched, laughing unbelievably, as they tied the catamaran to the boat and towed it, and us, back to the resort. 

After 2 ocean adventures in one day, even I have had enough of the water! Now I think we’ll get cleaned up and head for dinner at the Buffet (all the other restaurants were either closed or fully booked). Plus, I want a rematch on that ping pong game from Day 2! Until later!

Later

Last update–I won the ping pong rematch 10-6, but then swiftly lost the tiebreaker 3-10. 🙁 Tomorrow, we return to town for a final day of exploring and shopping, then we’ve scheduled a couples massage on the beach at sunset (FREE thanks to the very awesome “Curacao Now” package I booked which included a $200 spa credit). That will be the “last night of honeymoon” closer. I can’t wait!!

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Day 6-Saturday, December 12, 2009

Let me start off with a bodily injury update. We are almost through our second bottle of OFF and that is a big deal to me. I’m up to 8 mosquito bites, Shelli has 7 and we have to survive 3 more nights here! We’ve taken to creating a tent at night on the bed, tucking the sheet in entirely around our heads, feet and arms. It’s working, but let one inch of your skin out from under the tent, and it’s free game. So now, fresh new bites on the palm of one hand, an index finger, and my wrist are added to my list. In other bodily injury news, it would appear that my wife Shelli fractured her pinky toe when she stumbled over a paving stone walking to the room yesterday. And she wasn’t even drunk! Well,  between the bites, her injured toe, my fucked up shoulder, both our sunburns we make a fine pair! (Yes, I did have my *tsk, tsk* moment, as the sun is not being very nice to Shelli’s skin)  But still no one on this island is smiling wider than us. Everything’s better on vacation, even pain! Any who, nothing is to stop us from honeymooning and vacationing it up!

Today is supposed to be KishaLynn Day, meaning we’re doing the activities of my choice. I wanted to go back to Punda in the morning and explore the rest of town before our 2:00 appt for a Dolphin Encounter. Unfortunately my shoulder was causing such excruciating pain the night before that I had to take 4 Advil PMs at 2:30 a.m. just to get to sleep. This made me very groggy when the alarm went off at 9:15 a.m. I decided to sleep it off. When I woke up later, around 12:45, my shoulder felt better! It was time to get up and at ’em. We hopped out the bed, pulled back the curtain, and faces fell as we saw it pouring down rain outside. Shelli grabbed the camera to snap a photo of the cloudy sky and I think I just stared unbelievably. But before I could even suck in the air and open my mouth to complain, the deluge became a shower, the shower became a sprinkle, and the sprinkle became tiny drips from the beach’s frond-covered huts as the rain stopped. And before Shelli could even take 3 pictures, the sun was back out, the sky was blue, the clouds returned to being white and the view became once again pristine. If it weren’t for the puddles, and the drenched swimsuit I’d hung out to dry the day before, you would never know that it rained. God bless you Curacao! We were off for our Dolphin Encounter, after a quick stop by Jimmy’s Buffett for some more unremarkable, but not memorably disgusting food.

A Dolphin Encounter

Magical. Purely magical. Those are the best and only words I could use to describe making out with dolphins in Curacao! Thanks to our trip to Mambo Beach the day before, we knew exactly where the Sea Aquarium was, and arrived right on time for our appointment. When our trainers were ready for us, we were lead out onto a dock where we could already see the dolphins swimming about in the crystal blue water. We stripped our dry clothes from our swimsuits, and were divided into groups by language spoken. Most of the people were Dutch, one girl spoke Spanish, and we speak English. So, they had to get another trainer who spoke Spanish to come out, and we were in the group with that girl. The trainer spoke to us in English and translated to her in Spanish. Or vice versa–I don’t want to sound culturally superior.

We climbed down a ladder and lined up on the platform in the order of dolphin. We were assigned to Copan, a male dolphin, so we got to go down first. I was a little terrified, as I mentioned before, but the water was barely waist deep and I could see that the trainers had good control of the dolphins. Once we were all in place, we got a little dolphin lesson, where we learned cool things like dolphins shed their skin every 2 to 4 hours! Then, Copan was presented to us for the touching part. Unfortunately, they had a little trouble getting Copan to focus, because he is apparently in love with Didi, the female dolphin that was being presented to one of the Dutch groups (the third group, also Dutch, got to play with the baby, dolphin Tika.)Copan had his “swag on”, as we say, and was more interested in flirting and showing off for Didi than being touched by probably the 100th tourists that week. But, he did grace us with his presence briefly enough for some touching. Dolphins skin reminds me of an eraser, or ear cartilage. And a white film of their skin does indeed flake off when you rub them. After a brief petting, Copan was back off “being a male” for Didi, so it was obvious that he wasn’t in a kissing mood. We were told to go to the end of the platform for our kissing pictures, which meant we would get smooches from the female dolphin (and object of Copan’s total affection), Didi. That was FINE with me! 🙂 We got our kisses and posed for the camera, then the female trainer led us through a brief dolphin anatomy lesson. Another fun fact–because of their blow holes, dolphins only use their mouths for feeding, and male dolphins taste the water for female dolphin pee to see if the female is in heat. Imagine if we humans had to check like that? Gross!

The dolphins were adorable and I loved the cute little nose they made from their blowholes when we recognized a good job, bowing their heads into the water like a shy babe would into its mother’s breast. Such a breathtaking experience, I felt foolish for feeling fearful!

After exiting the water, we hung about to see how the dolphins get trained. The trainers showed off several dolphin tricks which were hard to catch on camera because our new Samsung DualView digital camera is a perfectionist and takes forever to take a picture (really good pics though!), so by the time the flash pops, that amazing dolphin jump is just a mere splash in the water on the screen. Still, even though our photos didn’t do it justice, it was great to see them jump, wave, race and be rewarded with dead fish from nearby bins.

Somewhat reluctantly we left the dolphin area, changed back into dry clothes, and went to explore the rest of the Sea Aquarium. There were a variety of built in fish tanks along the walls with fascinating looking fish. Unfortunately not all were labeled so it wasn’t much of a learning experience. All I can tell you is we saw some fish that were small, some fish that were big, some spongy looking fish, some squishy koosh-ball looking fish, eels, sharks, and stingrays. The best part of the aquarium aside from the dolphins was the Flamingo area, where an assortment of the pink birds were gathered, squawking about and ruffling their feathers. I learned that flamingoes sleep on one foot and get their pink color from eating shrimp. If a flamingos primary diet consists of little shrimp, it will turn white. We also met an adorable little wingless pelican named “Pela”. Pela lost her wings when she was caught in a fishing net–they had to be amputated to free her. Unable to fend for food against the other winged pelicans, she “made new friends” with the flamingoes and now lives among them, happily flapping the little nubs where her wings used to be, and fighting with flamingoes over shrimp. We definitely got our money’s worth for the experience–I can’t wait to do it again!

We left the aquarium and began the walk back to the Casino while I tried to figure out what I wanted to do next (besides more “honeymooning” with the Ms.) While we were walking back, a silver Toyota pulled up and a gentleman offered us a ride. (Mom, stop reading here.) We jumped in! He was a local, security guard at the Lions Resort next to the casino, and had observed us walking about yesterday in search of Mambo Beach. He figured we were from Breezes and he dropped us off there as a part of his rounds. How nice! (Mom, you can start reading again. We weren’t brutally murdered or molested.)

When we got back to the resort, the very first thing I wanted to do was inquire at the dive shop about the free introduction to scuba diving. We walked over to the pier (behind the disco) and were presented with a quite crotchety Australian guy behind the counter. We signed up for the 8:30 a.m. intro for the next morning and sat down to fill out the medical history forms. When we submitted the forms, the guy chastised me for putting N next to the medical history questions instead of No, and lectured me about the importance of following instructions–an ironic moment for me because I’m usually the one that follows them to a T! From then on, the guy was relentless with teasing me, and ultimately turned to Shelli and said he was going to deal with her because “she looked like she had enough sense to pay attention”! I’d have called him an asshole if Shelli wasn’t laughing so hard and joining in on the teasing–I guess I can take it!

I hope it’s tasty…be great to have one good meal on this resort!

Night 6

Ahhh what a beautiful day it has been! After we left the dive shop, I checked out a snorkel and mask and hit the reefs. I saw many, MANY schools of beautiful, tropical saltwater fish of all colors. It was so wonderful I couldn’t even imagine why anyone would pay to go on a snorkeling trip when you could snorkel free right on the resort! I snorkeled until the sun was almost set, while Shelli tanned from our rooms porch. While she could not be beckoned into the water, I wanted to live there forever. Once the sun went down it was time for more honeymooning! My shoulder pain was returning, but I tried my best to ignore it.

I was REALLY craving sweets, but by the time we got over to the gift shop, it had just closed. 🙁 So, about an hour before our dinner reservation we stopped by Jimmy’s Buffet to see what the offerings of the evening were. Wouldn’t you know it, they had peanut butter cookies, and some cheesecake that was actually edible! I gulped down those cookies like I’d never had one before! The dinner dishes actually looked good that night too, especially the fried fish. I resisted the urge to eat there, because I didn’t want to fill up before our actual dinner. I tasted the fish though, and it was as delicious as it looked. Go figure the yummy food would be out on a night that we don’t have to eat at the buffet!

Well people, I don’t know if you are the most ruthless of gambling addicts, or have never even bought a LOTTO scratch ticket, but here’s what I do know: THE PRINCESS CASINO AT BREEZES CURACAO SUCKS! Here’s 3 reasons why:

1. They charge for drinks. No thanks. In case you missed it, I am a guest at this resort which provides unlimited premium cocktails at no extra charge. Maybe that sign was just for locals visiting the casino, but that was a huge turnoff for me and I didn’t even approach the bar.

2. The casino was so smoky, and the air so horrible, that it produced a cough from me that made me throw up in my mouth a little. Yeah, I know, gross. Exactly.

3. Between us, we blew through $40 within 10 mins, and the most winnings between us were $6, on the penny and nickel slots–maybe 1 or 2 pulls at the $1 slots by Shelli before I pulled her off of it. Come on! Your slots can pay a little bit better than that. Why go for the dry bleed on the first $20? In Palm Springs, CA last year I gambled the penny slots for almost an hour on $13. No need to load more money on the card-this Casino sucks!

While I was disappointed in the Casino experience, I really couldn’t have asked for a better day. The dolphins, the snorkeling, the delicious Italian food, and quality 1-on-1 time with my new wife were all experiences I will never forget. And not just because I’m blogging about it here, but because the day was one of the happiest in my life. And not many people can say that for many days. You never forget that feeling–I have a lot of them.

Tomorrow, we SCUBA DIVE! I feel 3 times the flutter in my stomach at the thought of it than I did before the Dolphin Encounter, but I also feel like I can conquer the world…or at least breathing under water!

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Day 5-Friday, December 11, 2009

We were out the door by 11:30, made a quick stop by the buffet for a snack, then Shelli made her reservation at the spa for a sea salt scrub, while I inquired about the Dolphin Swim at Guest Services.  Not only were we not able to get an appointment until tomorrow, but the Dolphin Swim is $180 per person, so we will have to settle for the Dolphin Encounter, which means we can touch, hug, and kiss the dolphins, but not swim with them. Again, next time. While tomorrow is technically my day, but I don't mind doing this for Shelli–despite the fact that I'm more than a little terrified at the thought of getting in the water with dolphins. Don't they have teeth??

Soon we were ready to venture off to Mambo Beach. We weren't really sure what Mambo Beach was–sounded like a cross between a beach, a club, a restaurant, and another town. What I do know is that it was identified as a gay-friendly place to go on www.gaycuracao.com, and Shelli, it being her day, preferred to try something new rather than go back to Punda.

We sat like idiots at the bushalte in front of the resort, waiting for a bus to take us over to Mambo Beach. After being passed up and honked at by several buses, I walked back over to the front desk to ask if/when buses to Mambo Beach arrived. The guest services lady, Viela, smiled at me as you would a child that asked why the sky is blue, and informed me that no buses travel to Mambo Beach, because it is right next door, just a 5 min walk down the road. Curious! So I asked her, what is Mambo Beach? Is it a beach, a town, a club? She nodded her head and said it's a very nice beach, it has restaurants and bars, and shops.

So I returned to the bushalte where Shelli was waiting, and we started the trek down the road. We walked all the way to the end of the road before the bend, expecting a fabulous beach-like place to unfold before us, but all we saw was what appeared to be a gravel-y lot with a few cars parked in it. After we had been walking MORE than 5 minutes, I was quick to protest that I thought we were lost. The road curved around leading into another resort and the Sea Aquarium. At the curve, I asked two white women sitting on the ledge smoking cigarettes if they knew where Mambo Beach was, and they replied something in Dutch, which of course I don't speak. I told Shelli I didn't think we should walk any further down the road–I was pretty sure this beach was supposed to be BEFORE the Aquarium. I wondered aloud if that gravel lot was it, and since we were turning around anyway, might as well check it out. We crossed the rocky lot and sure enough, a sign read Mambo Beach with an arrow pointing to a ramp. We went down the ramp and came upon a ticket window announcing a $3.00 admission fee. Shelli bought us two tickets and we took the ramp the rest of the way down. Suddenly, Mambo Beach was unfolded before us! It was SPECTACULAR! Huge outdoor bars, a restaurant, and a narrow strip of shops behind a sandy shore dotted with several "beach beds" of various sizes leading right into the same perfectly Azule waters as our resort next door. (We could actually see the infamous disco, and the Breezes Resort Dive Shop with its hanging wetsuits.)

We quickly claimed the last remaining covered beach bed, and were soon greeted by a white surfer looking server named Mikal. That's Mikal, pronounced "mek-il", but with that phlegmy sound from Hebrew and Arabic, and I guess Dutch languages. I said it wrong several times and he shook his head and said you guys just don't have that *phlegm* sound in your English vocabulary. I declared that for correct pronunciations sake, I'd call him "Make Ill" with the *phlegm*. He seemed happy with that. Shelli ordered drinks while I made a beeline for the water, which was simply splendid. This place was very European compared to the town of Punda. There were mostly white people on the beach, with levels of tan varying from pale to bright red, to just plain out burnt. I also noted there was much more nude sunbathing taking place on the shore that at Breezes. Several people were reading books with titles in different languages so this told me they were not Americans. No one really spoke to us besides Make*phlegm*Ill, nor did we speak to anyone.

After my dip, I returned to the bed and ordered some food. Both Shelli and I had this grilled shrimp dish that was simply scrumptious, especially when you dipped it in what they called "cocktail sauce" but I recognized as aioli, or seasoned mayonnaise. I ordered Mai-Tai and extra ice to drink, while Shelli sipped on the local beer, Amstel Bright. *(By the way, Amstel is the only beer on tap at Breezes, so if you're a cerveza snob, don't expect a brewery–or even a liquor store–level of variety. Beer means one thing at Breezes–Amstel, a Dutch beer from the Netherlands.) Having finally eaten something delicious, and whet my whistle with more libations (it wasn't nearly as fun paying for them!) I ventured off to spend some money in the local shops. Shelli gave me $100. I had forgotten to bring a towel, so I went into the first shop and asked the black woman behind the counter if they sold beach towels. She looked offended and said no. I was repelled by her chilly tone, and I promptly left the store without even exploring her other offerings. It looked like mostly baby clothes anyway.

I went into the next store and asked if they sold beach towels. The tall, model-esque white woman told me yes, and guided me to a shelf of beach towels. How much? I asked. I must have been visibly taken aback when she said $35 USD, because she looked at me and said "What? You looking for something cheap? This is a boutique, we don't have cheap things. The cheapest I have is $20, or try next door." Again, I was a bit miffed at the rudeness, but her store was really beautiful and I wanted to look around some more. So, I shook it off, thanked her, and began to peruse the rest of her shelves. She had some really beautiful handmade jewelry, which was surprisingly "cheap". I purchased a rainbow necklace and matching earrings. Then yes, I went ahead and grabbed a $20 towel. She was much nicer to me then. I paid for my things ($40) and left. In the next store I purchased some comfortable navy blue flip flops, that are no competition to my Adidas Fit Foam sliders (which I left at home), but they don't have that irritating flip flop thingy that goes between your big toe, making them more ideal for walking. Just $15! Having now spent half my budget, I returned to the beach bed to verify that the $100 she gave me was not all the money we had. She said to me my favorite words: "Nope baby, that's just for you to spend". SWEET! I vowed to blow the rest of it before we left, but my then I was feeling hot and ready to get back into the water. While I went for a second dip, Shelli ordered a burger that she said was quite delicious. It had an egg on top. When I returned from the water, we snapped some photos, and then I went back to the shops to spend the rest of my money on two more pairs of earrings.

It's a good thing these stores didn't have a "you break, you buy" policy, because I broke 2 pieces of jewelry in two different stores, BACK TO BACK! The first was a pair of pair earrings that separated from its wire while I was pulling it from the screen it was hanging from. I took it woefully to the counter, and the shop owner assured me someone could fix it. The second was back in the same shop with the "not cheap" beach towels. As I was waiting for some silver earrings I had purchased on my second visit to be wrapped, I attempted to try on a pretty rainbow bracelet. While I was pulling it on to my wrist, the elastic snapped and its rainbow pieces scattered everywhere across the counter, right in front of the shop owner! OH! I was mortified! The shop owner interrupted my profuse apologies with a *tsk*, but waved it off, saying "It's okay, but you have to remember that when it's an elastic bracelet you need to put it on very slowly and carefully." She did not charge me for the bracelet. After that, my zeal for shopping was gone, as were my funds, so I returned to the beach bed. It was after 3 pm by then, and Shelli had a 5 pm appointment for a sea scrub at the Breezes Resort Blue Mahoe spa, so we decided to call it a day at Mambo Beach. We packed up and began the short walk back.

Night 5

I sat on the deck watching ocean sunset number 5 of 7 while Shelli showered for her appointment. When she left though, it occurred to me that I actually had some ME time for the first time since we'd been there. And I knew EXACTLY how I was going to spend 60-90 minutes of blissful alone time. (I love my wife, and being married, but I also love some alone time, especially since it's so rare these days!) I grabbed my phone and headset, and went back out to those fabulous swinging hammocks in front of the Wedding Gazebo, to observe the rest of the splendid sunset to the tunes of Norah Jones, Vanessa Carlton, and Mariah Carey. I'm not into yoga or chanting, but it was an "OHM" moment if there ever was one, and I literally indulged every minute, and second, of the experience until I had no choice but to head back to the room and shower for dinner. When I got there, Shelli was napping.

Dinner reservations that night were for Musayan, the resort's Japanese restaurant. I made the same mistake of choosing the teppanyaki table for dinner instead of the garden seating. The seats around the teppanyaki table were very cramped, and the bar stool was uncomfortably high and small for all the junk in my trunk.

I'm so sorry to keep bumming out about the food–I really am a positive and relatively easy to please person. However, the Japanese food from the teppanyaki table was SO disappointing to me, as was the presentation, which is supposed to be most of the fun of eating at a teppanyaki Table. We had the option of miso soup or Japanese salad. I had ordered the soup, Shelli had the salad. My soup was NO far from miso soup that I had to question whether or not I had misunderstood the guy explaining our starter options. It had no visible tofu or seaweed in it, and instead of being clear, it was murky with a number of unidentifiable vegetables (?) floating in it. GROSS! Shelli's seaweed salad looked and tasted much better.

This was no Benihana's, I noted, as a local chef slapped ingredients down on the hot plate with minimal explanations and almost no flair. She started with soba noodles (which she did shape into a cute little heart for a touch of niceness), then chicken, then beef, then shrimp, then fish, all of which were, say it with me now, edible, but not spectacular. Shelli lamented that she put teriyaki sauce (which she hates) on everything but the beef, so I ate her chicken and she ate my beef. We also downed a couple of bottles of mediocre and lukewarm sake, and choked down a few bites of self-serve sushi from a side table. I was actually relieved when the dinner presentation was over, and I was down from my bar stool before the "polite" applause for our chef ended.

One thing I haven't mentioned yet is my shoulder pain going from bad to worse, to excruciating. Every time I lift my right arm, or turn my neck, the sharp pain is breathtaking. So, I am more than ready to call it a night. Even laying down in is an impossibly painful feat. Shelli made an ice pack for my shoulder and I've had to down 4 Advil PM liqui-gels just to make the pain tolerable enough to sleep…hopefully. Meanwhile, we're watching Armageddon through poor reception on the flat screen satellite TV.

Tomorrow is another day! But beyond that, it's MY DAY!  If I'm up to it, I'd like to go back to Punda. And we have the Dolphin Encounter at the Sea Aquarium. I'd love to give snorkeling another go as well. I also want to gamble my $20 at the casino. And, there's still that gay bar to find and do! So much fun *yawn*….up, here comes the Advil…………..

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Day 3-Wednesday, December 9, 2009

 Now at the time of this writing we are awake SUPER LATE (at 4:30 p.m. local time to be exact so much for the shuttle to town–we were waitlisted anyway) and kinda hungover. No new mosquito bites to report, but the alarm clock in our room keeps blinking so there’s something wrong with it, or the outlet it’s plugged into. A mixed blessing though because it was set for 8:30 a.m. and given our condition it would have been a sin to be awaken at that hour. In fact the only reason we even woke up when we did was that housekeeping called the room to see if we wanted room service, because they were ready to clock out.

 Now off to see what the rest of the day (what little of it is left) and the evening holds! 🙂

 Night 3
The only thing remarkable about today was watching the sunset in its entirety, having an OK dinner of pineapple glazed chicken kabobs and rice at Jimmy’s Buffet, and some glorious lounging & swinging in a hammock in Shelli’s arms, where I truly could have stayed forever.

 Given that we are still recovering from Tuesday night, we’re turning in early (it’s only 9 pm) after a better dinner. I think the key is to get there earlier when there’s a better and fresher selection of food. One thing that’s definitely lacking on this resort is some good dessert! I am DYING for a chocolate chip cookie,  or REAL cake! The cake here tastes like sliced bread with sugar on top. Cake is supposed to be cake! And, I’m definitely missing/craving candy! This is a family resort and there are kids here, yet there isn’t a scrap of candy to be found. And I need it! *pouty pout* Well, maybe tomorrow we’ll raid the gift shop for a sweets fix. But for tonight, it’s time to shut it down. We’re gonna watch Modern Family on the TV (which by the way does not offer Fox, which 90% of the shows we watch come on). Oh, and I identified the city that the American TV here is broadcast from-New York! The political commercials for Governor David Patterson gave it away! As did the local news. My mentor Sanda will love to know that even in Curacao, I couldn’t escape New York City! 🙂

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Day 2-Tuesday, December 8, 2009

Shelli and I woke up at 1:45 p.m. I opened the curtains and we both rejoiced at the sheer perfection. A partly cloudy day and truly the bluest water I’ve ever seen.

We got dressed and left for food. More mediocre Jimmy’s Buffet, but the BBQ chicken was actually tasty. At the bar, this time I tried the drink special of the day which was “Perfect Love”. With rum banana liquor, and some other stuff. It was very sweet and thick–both the opposite of what I like in a good cocktail these days. So, after that, back to Vodka Tonics it was. I did attempt to order 2 Long Island Iced Teas, which the bartender clearly interpreted as a dash of every kind of liquor, including Peach schnapps?? Topped off with orange juice. The end result was a hodgepodge of flavors/booze so far away from a real long Island iced tea that I laughed when I handed Shelli hers announcing it as an LIIT. Back to Vodka Tonics for us.

Finally it was time for my toes to touch the water. And it was the best ever. Warm, clear, blue, clean. Perfect! There was a breakwater wall in the beach that kept the resort beach water more like a saltwater wading pool–no treading water required. Even after you swam in 4 ft and the “bottom” disappeared from your feet, you would simply bob on the surface of the water, head above surface. Still, warm, calm, perfect. The weather was partly cloudy (Shelli says scattered clouds). They had flotation rings in the ocean, and I climbed aboard just to float, cloud-watch, and drift and dream a little. I can’t really describe the sheer bliss really. I felt like a retired millionaire in those moments. No, a retired billionaire. We chilled for a few more moments (and a few more cocktails) then headed back to our room for a honeymoon break, after which we laid out together on a beach lounge in the sun. Next, we took a dip in the pool next to our wing, but didn’t really swim because while I was at the bar I met Frank and Bob and they came over to the pool. We had a great conversation, and I’m deeming them our gaycation friends. Now it’s time for more honeymooning before it’s time for our 8:30 dinner reservation at the Starlight BBQ restaurant. More later….

Night 2
We arrived at Starlight (which is really just the same beach bar & grill we were drinking at earlier) and were seated for our dinner. The only menu options were pork ribs, BBQ chicken, and Beef Tenderloin. I refuse to eat pork, and I had already had BBQ chicken at lunch, so I said screw it all and ordered the beef, medium well. Shelli had the ribs. We had to go serve our own soup and salad, which I didn’t care for doing, nor was it tasty. Shelli took one taste of the soup and immediately put her spoon down. I had one bite of ceasar-ish salad and did the same. So, we swapped and she had my salad while I finished her soup.

It was a nice, clear night on the beach and every table was full with a mix of dinner shifts. Service was a bit slow, with a long wait for cocktails and water, so I went to the bar and coyly negotiated taking one of the water pitchers back to our table. Food arrived and I thought the beef was the tastiest food I’d eaten since we arrived. Shelli wasn’t crazy about the ribs. Both were served with the same horrible grease fries from the buffet–a shame next to such nice beef–and some mushy mixed vegetables. Dessert was an awkward carrot cake with some kind of whipped frosting. One bite, and the fork went down.

As we finished eating we heard karaoke starting up at the stage behind us, so I knew that was our next stop. We moved over there and I grabbed a table while Shelli went for cocktails. It was more crowded than the reviews led me to believe; I was kinda hoping the participation would be low so I could hog the mic, but as it was, I only got one song in-Katy Perry’s I Kissed A Girl from their book of American Pop. I picked that instantly, so I didn’t really see what the other selections were like. Shelli looked at the book and didn’t find anything by Salt & Pepa, so no karaoke for her. The list had closed anyway.

After my song ended we ran into Frank and Bob, gaycationing friends from Philly. We spent an hour talking and laughing with them before Shelli lured me away with the offer to go gamble $20 in the casino. We went to the casino and actually didn’t gamble anything. I was very tipsy by then, well on my way to drunk, so I decided what I really wanted to do is give the nude beach in front of our room a run with some night-time skinny dipping. We headed off to do that, detoured by a quick and sad game of ping-pong which I lost 10-4 to Shelli.Night-time skinny dipping was awesome. I am sad to report though that when it came down to it, Shelli refused to get nude. She went topless, but kept her shorts on, despite my pleas and teases.

It got chilly quickly so we didn’t linger long. I sent Shelli on the long journey to fill the ice bucket and I ventured off to get cocktails. This is when I made the best discovery of the night. The main bars were closed so I was pointed to the “disco”, a small hut at the far end of the resort. Inside its doors was BUMPING HIP HOP MUSIC and a totally empty dance floor! It was MEANT for me. I grabbed drinks and raced back to the room, PRAYING Shelli would say yes to going out for some dancing. She did!!! Shortly after, we were back at the disco, telling the DJ what to play, dancing our asses off, and moving from tipsy, to drunk, to officially “fucked up”. I’m sure I fell down 4-5 times, but who cared it was only my wife, 3 locals, and it’s my honeymoon! The latter prompted our exit and a precariously stumbly trip back to our room on the other end of the resort. One thing I do remember is Shelli walking up to a patio and saying “You left your beach towel out!” To which I replied, “Baby, that’s NOT our porch. This isn’t even our building!” Hahaha, Shelli hasn’t had that much to drink in a while, nor have I.

Somehow we made it back to our actual room, and as soon as the bed touched my face it was A WRAP!!!! I know I went to sleep smiling though–there’s nothing better than dancing to your favorite hip hop on an empty dance floor with your wife!

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Day 1-Monday, December 7, 2009

So it begins…
A rare rainy and cold morning in LA made me relieved that we were leaving. A great ride to LAX in prepaid luxury sedan was a nice touch–thanks Shelli for the idea and Connie Self for hooking us up with a discount through a local affiliate. The car arrived at 5:33 a.m. and we got to LAX a few minutes after 6. Our flight was scheduled to depart at 7:50. Were warned at airport counter that next time we needed to arrive a little earlier than 90 before departure to check in with bags for an international flight–at least 2 hrs before. But we were fine for this trip and the rest of check in was uneventful. Our bags were checked free because it was an international flight, so u get to check 2 bags free and carry on one plus a personal item. Regardless, we packed light, checking and carrying on one bag each. Our flight took off from LAX at 830, 50 mins later than scheduled. If I didn’t know better, I’d have worried about the already tight 1 hr connection in Miami, but I do, so I didn’t worry.

We arrived at MIA on schedule. I slept through almost the entire flight. Poor Shelli had the middle seat next to an older, not skinny woman. My poor babe was a trooper. It was hot and humid, even inside the air conditioned Miami airport. “Stickier than a post-it note” is what I posted to Facebook. We saw our flight was delayed 20-30 mins, which afforded plenty of time for the long hike to the international E-gate, and a few mins to grab a bite to eat. Ever hopeful, I stepped to the counter at the gate to inquire about upgrading our seats to business class for final leg of the trip, but was deterred by the $800 per ticket price tag. Maybe next time. We’d gladly just pay for our drinks on the flight, which turned out fine because while we had 5 rounds each, we only paid for 3 due to some very kind flight attendants. On the MIA to CUR flight, Shelli and I passed time by drinking cocktails while watching videos (Beyonce heavy–of course!!) she’d downloaded to her MSI Wind Netbook.

Arriving In Curacao
Not even 30 secs after arriving at Curacao’s Hato Int’l Airport, I already broke the law by snapping a photo on my digital camera of the Curacao arrivals sign while waiting in line to get my passport stamped. An agent kindly approached me and informed me that photography was never allowed inside an airport, and requested that I delete the photo, which I did immediately.

Customs was a breeze and we found an agent immediately to guide us to the right location for our transfer from the airport to the resort. We waited about 15 mins for our shuttle ride to arrive with a small group of other guests. We loaded our bags into the trailer hooked to the shuttle, and boarded.

Almost immediately after hitting the road in the shuttle–we were still right in front of the airport–there was a loud scraping noise from the back of the shuttle. A small car pulled up beside us and a man rolled down his window and said something to the shuttle driver in another language. She turned on the hazard lights and got out of the shuttle. The car pulled in front of us, put on its hazards, and the man driving got out. As he walked past the shuttle, he yelled to us inside–“Just relax!” No one was panicking anyway.

After a few minutes one of the other passengers, an older man, exited the shuttle to see what was going on. He came back and reported that the shuttle had detached from the trailer. The men from the car were helping the driver try to get it rehooked and locked on. I guess that didn’t work, because a few minutes later they were loading the luggage into the shuttle with us (there was plenty of space, with only 8 passengers in a 16 passenger shuttle). Soon, we were on our way. No clue what ended up happening to the trailer.

It was 10:00 when we finally hit the road (our flight had arrived at about 8:50). The ride was nice–Curacao looked a lot like America, and there was more English and recognizable (to a non-speaker)
Spanish-like words than I expected. Almost everyone I saw was black, except the passengers and the men who helped with the trailer.

Shelli fell asleep on the ride, but I stayed away to watch the scenes as we wound through extremely narrow roads, and to write this blog. 🙂 More when we check into the resort!

At the resort
We got to Breezes Curacao resort after about 20 mins on the road. The lobby was beautiful. We did not have to touch our bags. We waited in line a bit to check in, and received the keys to our Jr. Oceanfront Suite in the Flamingo Tower, as I had requested. Our room was on the first floor, so no stairs. The room itself met the expectations I had after reading reviews that ranged from so-so to good for the price. It was night time so we couldn’t get a good sense of the view, but we were definitely oceanfront, steps from the sand, and on the “nude beach” side of the resort–I requested this to limit our exposure to kids, and noise, even though it meant a further hike to the bars and food. Worth it to have peace and quiet at night, and hopefully in the morning as we shall see tomorrow. First inspection of the room revealed the oft-commented upon mosquitoes that I read about in every travel review. Unfortunately, while the reviews warned me to bring mosquito repellant, which I did, I didn’t think to bring anti-itch cream, for the all-but certain few mosquito bites we’d acquire throughout the week. Shelli was bitten almost immediately, and by the time we settled down I was trying my best to ignore 3 fresh bites. We killed every mosquito we encountered (4 as of this writing). There is a flat screen HDTV in the room, and when we turned it on, Family Guy (a personal favorite) was playing. The channels did not have crystal clear reception though. Other observations revealed an inoperable bathroom light which was quickly fixed by “Hector”, who arrived at our room with our bags shortly after we did. He told us the buffet and bar were open until 1 if we were hungry. We were starved so we immediately departed for Jimmy’s Buffett.

One point of accuracy in the reviews I read before arriving pertained to the poor quality of the food. Granted, it was just “after-hours snack time” at the buffet, not a full on meal, but the selection, and quality of the offering was, let’s say, less than sufficient. Even when you are starving, which we were. I don’t eat red meat or pork–only fish and poultry meats. Shelli fixed herself a burger, which looked raw inside, and tasted “different” in Shelli’s words. I stayed with the safer looking Chicken Nuggets and Fries, both of which were completely disappointing. They had nothing to dip the nuggets in–not even BBQ sauce. I also tried a spoonful of some kind of chicken dish that tasted boney and rubbery. Shelli had a scoop or two of some kind of fish that she said was tasty but I couldn’t eat more than a bite of it. The only dessert was flan, which I hate, so I had a couple of slices of honeydew and watermelon, both of which barely passed muster. They had a couple of sad looking salads that I walked right by. I can say that the grape soda, which had a local label, was the grapiest I’ve ever tasted.

Redeeming all of this “bad buffet food” confirmation was the open bar, serving premium liquors and frozen mixed drinks. We both decided to stick with the same vodka & tonic cocktail that we’d been drinking all afternoon. Yes the glasses are small, but who cares? You can get as many of them as you want! I did find it funny though that the bartender, who moved slowly, didn’t know how to make either a white Russian or a long island iced tea (the person ahead of me in line had ordered both). You can’t really mess up a vodka tonic, but the bar had no limes which I thought was a no-brainer. Still, the vodka was Stoli, the tonic was bubbly and we had 3 of them each before heading back to our room, taking the scenic route around the resorts pools, including the one with the swim up bar, and the small strip of beach, as a steel drum band played recognizable smooth jazz tunes like “I Can’t Help Falling In Love With You”. I’ll write more about the pools and entertainment tomorrow after we’ve seen it in the daylight and experienced more.

I’d be remiss if I didn’t put a note here for my mom. The Scotch Whiskey of choice at the bar was Dewar’s–my mom’s favorite. So, I know she’ll sigh longingly to know she could have had all of it that she wanted if she was here. I don’t drink brown liquors, except select tequilas. The only tequila they had at this bar was Chihuahua tequila from Mexico, which didn’t impress me, but also won’t keep me from drinking gobs of it before this honeymoon is said and done. Speaking of honeymoon, the drink special of the day was called the “Honey Moon”, and its listed ingredients were Vodka, Amaretto, Vanilla and Grenadine.
Didn’t sound tasty to me, so I didn’t try it.

We returned to our room and unpacked our bags. Shelli hung up the clothes, I organized the toiletries. We put all of our important papers, and passports, in the room safe.

The Williams-Martinez Jr. Middleweight fight was showing on HBO (which did have crystal clear reception), and we watched it (since the only other options were various U.S. local news shows from unnamed cities and local programming in non-English language. Williams won–119-110.

Now Shelli and I are draped sleepily across the king size bed (which is no Heavenly bed, but not complainable either) and getting ready to call it our 1st night in Curacao. Even though we’ve both been sprayed down with OFF, I still fear I’m being or will be feasted on by mosquitoes throughout the night. Nonetheless, I’m happy to be here and excited to see what daylight brings in this foreign land. With unlimited amounts of liquor, pools, and beach. Until tomorrah!

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(To be done in the style of Def Poetry Jam)

Darling of mine
sweetest of all valentines
You are so fine
You make my heart shine
Imagine your lips
Taste like wine
I want to hold you
And let my hands mold you
into my body
My heart beats harder
At the sound of your name
After a love like yours
I’m not the same
The stars aligned
You became mine
And I am yours
Forever.

My first poem since arriving in Los Angeles, CA

The sound came out of
the scream came out of
the fear came out of
the pain came out of
the man came out of
the shadows came out of
the darkness came out of
the night.

The blood is off of
the cut is off of
the knife is off of
the hand is off of
the neck is off of
the body is off of
the life is out of
the world.

The stone is over
the lily is over
the grass is over
the soil is over
the cross is over
the casket is over
the body is over
the grave.

The fear killed
the lust killed
the rage killed
the high killed
the time killed
the drug killed
the man killed
me.