I haven't written anything for a few days. This does not mean that I am bored here, but rather indicates the opposite. I've had the car on the island for a week and a half. Sometimes alone, sometimes together with the chapos. That day, unfortunately, Charly was indisposed, so I went with Jutta and Ute to the far north of Aruba, to California Beach.
The lighthouse sits enthroned above the beach, and below the lighthouse there is an expensive Italian restaurant. There is also miles of beach. No bathing beach, because here the Atlantic waves with all force against the coast.
With the happy fact that we are the last tourists to Aruba, we can enjoy every meter of the wild coast alone.
If you look closely, you can see that the island of Aruba is built on corals. The “stones” lying around on the bank are actually corals.
Jutta and Ute have fun collecting fossilized chunks of the coral. I imagine the chapo getting heavier and heavier and sinking at some point when both have gathered the whole beach of Aruba.
There are a few large stones, they are so big that you can almost describe them as comfortable.
Again and again I have to hold the camera up to the surf until I realize that I have no use for 1001 photos of waves. 101 photos are sufficient. I'm a little sorry for the slide film.
We meet an Aruban couple with a huge dog. The dog looks harmless, but we don't want to play with it.
We hike the northern tip of the island and come across a kind of natural pool. It is impressive how the water washed out a cave here. The further we get, the less surf there is to see. We slowly reach the other side of the island.
There is more vegetation on the leeward side of the island. Wherever grasses grow on the windward side, you can even see the ruins of a divi-divi tree on the leeward side.
I swear I hardly edited the picture of Jutta and Ute. Somehow the mouse slipped out of the colors.
A few cacti in the foreground, a hunting pelican in the background. It took me a while to get this picture in the box. The water on the leeward side is completely smooth. So far it is a wonderful trip.
There is a pickup truck on the side of the road and two young men are working on the loading area. A bottle of rum is half full or half empty for the next drinker. The two laugh and talk, point to us. In retrospect, the dialogue was brought to me as follows:
"Look, there are tourists again."
“Nonsense, there are no tourists here. These are people who speak Papiamentu better than we do. ”
Then we are showered with a verbiage. I need two or three minutes to interrupt him, the rum has oiled the throat well. We introduce ourselves to each other, my conversation partner is called Edward. We exchange phone numbers. Edward offers to drive us across the island and show us every corner. We chat for a few more minutes. Now the day is perfect, we finally got to know a few locals again.