Friday, October 6, 1995 - Bonaire

We were ready for the tour bus when it arrived. It turned out to be a van, since there were only two other people going. There was no sense taking a big bus for only four people. The driver was a German engineer named Gerry. He was quite a character and very talkative. He had sailed around the world. When he arrived in Bonaire six years ago, he fell in love with the place and has been here ever since. He worked for a while as manager of a local company. Now he's working on a project to map all the roads on the island. He's taking care of three expensive houses and living in them, so he has no housing expense. He drives the tour buses occasionally when they need him. He speaks seven languages fluently! In addition to German and English, he speaks Papiamento, Dutch, French, Spanish, and Italian. Wow! He said it was very easy to pick up Papiamento and Dutch, since the languages he already knew were similar. They just seemed like additional dialects. Of course, he was tickled pink to converse in his native language with the German passengers. Not many German tourists come here, so he doesn't often have an opportunity to speak German. He gave us an excellent tour. Ironically, on our way to the park, we went out the very road that Roy and I had ridden our bikes along yesterday, but even though it was a lot easier in the van, we were glad we'd gone there by bike. We'd seen a lot more and enjoyed it a lot more. What had taken us an hour or two, the van covered in a matter of minutes. The van did stop at Thousand Steps, however, which we'd gone by yesterday without stopping, thinking we'd stop there on our way back. There were actually 72 steps, which went down to the coral-strewn beach. They'd been built about fifty years ago by the radio station, whose towers were right across the road. The driver also took us to the observation point for the flamingos at Goto Meer. Just past there, we stopped briefly at a place called Dos Pos (Two Wells). Some men were working there. One of them gave Gerry two scrawny black kittens. There was an interesting little museum at the entrance to the park. Many of the fences on these islands are made of cactus, and Roy and I had been wondering how the people of long ago had made the cactus fences without being stuck by the needles. The museum had a series of photographs showing exactly how it was done. The people had used two sticks, called Chi and Cha. The Cha was forked like a Y, and the Chi was hook-shaped. These were natural formations that they found; they weren't shaped by people. The Chi and Cha were used to hold the cactus while it was being cut by a machete and to carry it to where they wanted to plant it, so the people never came in contact with the needles. The park itself was mainly cactus and sali¤as. We stopped at a cove on the northeast side and watched the waves crashing in. It was magnificent! We also stopped at a couple of coves on the western (lee) side, where the water was calm. Saw some large iguanas, and Roy took some pictures. On the way back, we went down the same highway we'd limped along with our bikes last night. It seemed a lot different in the van. To my delight, Gerry even took us up to the observation point I'd gone to yesterday morning, so Roy got to see it, too. He was impressed. When we got back to the marina, we were happy to learn that they weren't going to move us until tomorrow morning. That makes life a lot simpler, since we planned on going downtown this afternoon to clear out. Also, it was very windy today, so it wasn't the greatest time to move the boat. Someone had left five copies of Port Call in the cockpit. My article about the arrest on Klein Cura‡ao was in it. George had also returned my diskette with the bus article on it. He left me a copy of the printed article, which even had my by-line. Unfortunately, he had misspelled Clare. The Sundowner, which had been next to us in Spanish Water, arrived here today and docked next to us. And on the other side of Sundowner is a boat that had been at Peak's Island, Maine, when we were there summer before last. The couple on it remembered us. Small world. Gerry had told us there had been an article a couple of days ago in the local papiamento newspaper about the arrest we had witnessed, so I phoned the paper to see if they'd be interested in Roy's pictures, but they weren't. They said it had turned out to be a legitimate shipment, all the men had been released, and the boat had been returned to the owner. Yeah, right. Legitimate shipments are always made with 900-horsepower speed boats. And you always go from Aruba to Venezuela by way of Klein Cura‡ao. Sure you do. My tire was flat as a pancake today. It's a thousand wonders that thing got me home last night. I thought I'd have to walk it to a bike shop, but Roy aired it up, and to both our surprise, it got me downtown. When we got to Immigration, they said we couldn't clear out today for Sunday; we have to do it within 24 hours of leaving. Took my bike to a bike shop, and they replaced the inner tube in a few minutes. To my amazement, they only charged 2.50 florins for the labor! That's about $1.25! If it took five minutes (and it probably took longer), that's only $15 an hour. I don't see how they stay in business. It sure felt good to have air in my tire again. Went to an ATM and got some more loot. Then we went to the super market and bought as much stuff as we could carry. The evening was balmy and lovely, with a bright full moon. After supper, we went for a pleasant stroll, and Roy treated me to orange sherbet at the ice cream shop.