Aruba and Curacao
19.12.2016 - 02.01.2017
Dominica to Curacao took us about four days.
On the third day we caught our largest mahi mahi yet. Catching fish is a whole thing here. It starts with the sound of the fish line tightening. Either someone starts to scream, or they check first. “Vis! Vis!” screams the first, then ten others join, then everyone who isn’t sleeping. Sam & Jelle (captain & cook) sprint out of the wheelhouse, the machineroom or their cabin (there happens to be a vent from the poop deck to Jelle’s cabin, and about ten people scream through that). Sam pulls in the line, someone grabs a knife.
If we manage to get it on deck (often they slip off at the last moment, like with the swordfish I spotted), it gets stabbed. Sometimes it’s a bloody fight, occasionally just one swift strike, usually somewhere in between. Then the fish gets prepared on the middle deck, mahi mahi losing their beautiful colours rapidly, and someone scrubs the blood on the poop deck away. We’ll eat fish that day, either cooked or as sashimi.
Well, I don’t. Quite a few people have realised that they could never kill an animal themselves, and are starting to question themselves. A positive development, in my opinion.
On the fourth day I had kitchen duty, and we made some pretty good food. In the afternoon the Curacao coast guard flew over and around us a few times, taking photos. Apparently somebody’s parents knew them.
Parents - who knew they could be such stalkers !? There are at least five watching shipfinder or marine traffic around the clock, discussing our every move in the parent’s group whatsapp. During my Portugal creativity and our first swim they totally flipped, thinking that someone was overboard. They watched us come into Tenerife through webcams, had photos of us calling in front of McDonalds as we were standing there. The other day my dad texted that he’d seen nice photos of us buying stuff.
That morning. Even though we were in the middle of nowhere. Now that’s creepy. If any parents read this: please chill. We ain’t gonna die. We can handle this.
Anyway, the bell rung that evening, during the washing up. Sam sat there, tired, dripping with sweat, a face full of soot :“Guys, the watermaker is broken.”
This meant no more showering, washing up with sea water, basically only using water to drink. If we’d been in the middle of the Atlantic, Sam could have made it, but the risk of it really breaking was too much for such a short period of time. All we needed was a tiny part, which could hopefully be shipped to Aruba.
When we woke up the next morning, we were anchored in St. Michielsbaai, Curacao.
After a morning swim we took the bus to Willemstad, where we went to declare ourselves at customs and visited the slavery museum after lunch.
That night the anchor watches did most of the cleaning, so we had free time pretty quickly the next day. Our first stop was a huge supermarket. It almost felt like home. All these Dutch products, brands, rows of them. A few people even came across an Albert Heijn, one of Holland’s largest supermarket chains. Must’ve been even weirder. And people spoke Dutch. Crazy.
We walked around a bit, chilled with wifi, and spent the end of the day on the beach. Oh yes, it was Christmas Eve, so we had a middle-deck party. Later in the evening I joined a few people behind the poop deck freezer – a rumoured spot of about two square metres between the freezer and stern. It was rather… amusing.
Christmas Day was pretty relaxed, with opening our Christmas boxes and a bbq on the beach. Because we didn’t end up dressing up, we did so on Boxing Day lol. That’s when Monique arrived, the director of the project, bringing mail from home. She sailed with us to Aruba the next day, where we docked shortly, for customs and bunkering water. Too much water, which meant bikini’s on, shampoo, fire hose on the front deck. Pretty nice. We anchored further along, in front of a beach close to Oranjestad, and spent the next day at school.
On the 29th a party bus gave us a tour of the island, from the Hooiberg, to a cave on the coast (in which we swam) and a collapsed natural bridge, before chilling on Baby Beach for the rest of the afternoon.
I spotted some interesting fish between the dead coral, and forgot my diary there when I left. It included all the letters to my friends, to which I’d been writing in a diary-like style since Tenerife. P-A-R-T-Y. Actually, I found myself surprisingly undisturbed at the idea of having lost it. I mean, in the end it’s just a diary. It did have a few nice things, poetic parts and drawings, and one part that I wrote one evening at the Rastas which was hilarious, but well. Probably someone found it and is now reading about my adventures, and who knows, it might turn up one day, totally unexpected.
The 30th was school again, and for Alexander & me it was interrupted by hanging in the yard to re-fasten the course, waving at passing boats full of tourists. One after the other came by all day long, and everyone stared at us, sometimes waving, often simply gaping. Apparently we’re very interesting.
We had free time the day after, and a girl’s grandparents paid for everyone to have a meal in Burger King. So nice. It was pouring with rain and we walked through the city a bit, huge chains of those small banging fireworks everywhere. Aruba is crazy when it comes to fireworks. At one point a truck with one long chain drove through the main street, banging as it went. We found wifi at a closed Dutch Pancake house, with super friendly staff that gave us free oliebollen.
That evening we called our families at seven o’clock to count down with them. Well, most of us. Some an hour later, some before, one had only an hour difference. In the meantime we performed our New Year’s conference, making fun of all the teachers and crew. It was hilarious.
When it was finally time on Aruba, we counted down together, eating a raisin for each of the last twelve seconds in Portuguese tradition. Everyone gave everyone a Happy New Year hug, before jumping in the water, clothes and all. I jumped from the highest part of the ladder that we’re allowed to twice, without thinking hesitation.
On the shore the fireworks went wild, beautifully. It was just amazing. Definitely the best New Year of my life. I ate homemade oliebollen ‘till I could no more, ended up staying awake until five or so, last person, as always. Kitchen duty the next day, big cleaning and cabin exchange. Chaos, as always. I moved to cabin 1, with Kika (again), Isa and Iris, with the 9-1 watch.
We left on the 2nd of January, after having a morning tour on a Dutch navy ship which happened to be in the harbor and on which Monique knew the commander. It was pretty impressive, one of the newest models. And so tidy.
We stored some food, bunkered water, and left Monique behind, waving to a webcam some stalker parent had contacted. They really can’t stop, can they?
So, I hope you received the earlier blogs by the time I send this to my dad. See, this is what happened:
From Tenerife to Cabo Verde, across the Atlantic, I sailmailed my dad one after the other blog, thinking that they’d all arrived. Then, during free time on Curacao, I heard they never did. That evening I sent all of them out again. Free time on Aruba; nope, not received either. So I copied onto someone’s usb-stick, which she was sending home with Monique. Hopefully her parents sent it to mine and nothing went wrong. So I hope you forgive me. Not only for that, but also for my bad grammar. I tend to write, scan once, and send. I just read a few old ones, and saw some obvious mistakes.
Well, it’s not the end of the world : that’s where I’m sailing...
