“You either love Curaçao, or you hate it!” said Frans, the driver and guide from my guesthouse, as we began our hike along a craggly clifftop. An intense sun whipped our faces, while the sea breeze cooled us sporadically and waves splashed furiously our way as if trying to reach us.
Love is more of what I felt for Curaçao after glancing at the immigration arrival form postcard that the flight attendant handed me on the flight. With a pink and white background, one side requested my basic traveler data while the other promised: “Life is better at the beach.”
Dushi! I said under my breath–the local papiamentu word for sweet that I had read was popular on the island. I wished all of my Caribbean destinations had the same delightful approach to entry.
The next two weeks I spent breathing, tasting, and feeling Korsou confirmed my initial instincts.
When gregarious Frans picked me up, I’d already been waiting on the curb for him. But it wasn’t his fault. The lightning process of getting through immigration (remember the dushi form), coupled with Copa Airlines’ swift luggage unloading meant that I had >>
I cannot believe it has been (dare I say it) three months since my last update! That is definitely a first for this blog. But when I look back at how busy life and work have been this year–since I returned to be based in the Dominican Republic–I realize the old saying is true. No news is often good news. And in my case, it’s all great, both personal and workwise.
But first, wait! I’m writing this update right now from the bright, beautiful city of Willemstad, capital of Curaçao.Part of Dutch territory, Curaçao is far south of the Caribbean, outside the hurricane belt, with neighbors such as Aruba, Bonaire, and down further, Venezuela. It basks in beautiful, bright turquoise Caribbean