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A place for thought, progress, and dissent.

Saturday, June 11, 2005

Bonaire Vacation - Day 2

Carl windsurfing at Lac BayToday was windsurfing. I forgot how much I hate windsurfing. Well, not hate it, exactly. It's a lot like golf. Golf is a very fun sport but I'm horrible at it, and when you play with people that are really good, you find nothing but frustration.

The windsurfing could not be more perfect, however. Lac Bay is knee deep as far as the eye can see, with the waves breaking over a large reef at the end. You have miles of shallow sandy water, with a ton of wind and no waves. I'm still no good at windsurfing, but I could enjoy it. I've decided that the sport is all about control; finesse. You have to know that sail like the back of your hand, exactly how it moves and behaves. My sail is like a insolent child.

My Dad playing in the windYou know you're in a different part of the world when the weather can be summed up in one question: "How's the wind today?" (More is better)

Before surfing, however, I had to go to the ATM. Though every place here will take US Dollars, we had mostly run out buying our flight from Aruba. My savvy traveler of a Father doesn't have an ATM card, so I became the bank. Fittingly, I found my horoscope in the local newspaper:
Be diplomatic but stem.[sic] Don't be too hard on yourself. Travel will be to your advantage; however, it might be expensive...
The diplomatic part definitely refers to my family. I find myself being the sole voice of reason too often. Even my limited traveling experience has proven to be invaluable.

Donkey by our carOne strange fact about Bonaire is that there are hundreds of wild donkeys running around—like deer in the U.P. Apparently, the government has rounded many of them up and put them in the Donkey Sanctuary (haven't been there yet), but many still run around (the ones they haven't been able to catch). Bonaire is also famous for pink flamingos, but they aren't in season.

After surfing until 5ish, we came back to the hotel and cleaned up for a fantastic european dinner at one of Bonaire's many great restaurants. Afterwards, while carl was cleaning out the small gash on his foot, I sat on a beach chair and watched the lightning on the horizon.

Unlike Aruba, which is its own country, Bonaire is part of the Netherlands Antilles, which in my understanding is effectively a "protectorate" of the Netherlands. There are a lot of Dutch vacationers and workers here, but the common language is English. So I forked over some Guilders for a Heineken, at the beach-side bar, and watched the ocean.

2 Comments:

At 12:12 AM, Blogger the iPunk said...

Admittedly, I'm a bit jealous. Sounds like a fantastic experience. Thanks for taking the time to reflect and share!


-iP

 
At 10:16 PM, Blogger mer said...

I'm also jealous.

I do ask that you please visit the Donkey Sanctuary if you can, because if you don't write a short story about it, I'll need to interview you for research for my upcoming bestseller about carrying cash for Russians who want to fly to Aruba's Donkey Sanctuary.

Oh...and my favorite line? "My sail is like an insolent child." Pure poetry. And it made me laugh.

 

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