Westin Hotel, Aruba

The Westin Hotel in Aruba was one of the first high rises on Palm Beach. It started out as the Concorde, and along the way has been a Hilton, a Wyndham, and now the Westin. I stayed here in the 1990’s and a friend of mine also did as recently as March of 2008. Here’s a look at the main building.

The rooms here were recently remodeled. Most have a great view either up or down Palm Beach. The balconies are little small but with room enough for two people to enjoy a beverage as the sun rises or sets. I enjoy coming to the lobby bar where the service is exceptional and the drinks spot on.

Normally, I don’t like television screens in a bar, especially a lobby bar, but thanks to the good company and service I manage to ignore these. There’s also a nice place for informal gathering as shown below.

There are several restaurants in this hotel including Pago Pago, Blossoms, and a breakfast buffet on the lower level. There’s also a slew of shops featuring everything from cigars to clothing to jewelry on the same lower level. Naturally there are a pair of large fresh water swimming pools as shown here.

There’s plenty of room to have fun with your friends and family. Plus, they host water aerobics, water volleyball, and things of that nature for the athletically inclined. For the rest of us, there are a pair of bars close by to ensure proper hydration. Then there is Palm Beach, just on the other side of the pool.

Pull up a chair, a good book, and enjoy the sun. The sand is powder soft, the breeze steady, and the possibilities endless for proper relaxation. Isn’t that why you came to Aruba in the first place?

Published in: on July 31, 2008 at 12:47 pm  Leave a Comment  
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Beginning at the End

I keep a collection of short stories titled, A Rusting Sea. These were born (many years back) out of my frustration with not finishing a novel. I thought I would be satisfied creatively by completing a shorter work, sitting back, and thinking, “Well, there it is, the whole thing.” This worked for about six months, during which time I wrote eight stories varying in length from about 10 to 80 pages. Strangely enough, the ending of each story came to me first. I had the end in mind, then tripped back to the beginning and plotted a course to that destination.

Thus, Captain Quincy’s Near Death Experience (which was the second one I wrote) comes to mind just now because I’m here on the island of Aruba. Captain Quincy, a lifelong mariner, decides he’s had enough of retirement and wants to depart this earth before he becomes a decrepit old codger. He spends a couple of days doling out his considerable wealth and through this convention you learn the history of his life. Of course, his cat distracts him throughout this process, ultimately causing Quincy to head back to sea one more time. And here’s how the story ends…

…So Captain Quincy and his cat, Gimlet, hustled down the track on their way to the port.

Attorney Mickleson, that is the son of the Mickleson who defended Quincy in the Turkish courts, found Captain Quincy’s letters and log books on the desk where they had been left. This was some months later, after Mickleson tried more than thirty different times to reach the captain. He went to the house with a police escort to open the door. The door was not locked, and nothing in the house was disturbed. Nothing indicated foul play. The police determined Captain Quincy had gone missing of his own accord despite the odd circumstances. Mickleson sent the letters off to their intended recipients and used the remaining money to maintain Quincy’s home in the off chance he returned.

No one heard from Quincy again. No one claims to know what happened to him. Mickleson ultimately settled the estate, took a reasonable fee, and contributed the balance to a range of charities.

However, on the island of Aruba, in the village of Saveneta, fitted tightly in the dirt beneath a Divi tree, stands a small headstone. The stone reads, “Gimlet,” and beneath the name, “A small world, big enough for me.”

END.

IT WAS that last paragraph that came to me one day while I was looking out the window of a rental bungalow here in Aruba. The rest of the story came later. Would you like to read the rest? Let me know.

Published in: on July 30, 2008 at 12:13 pm  Comments (1)  
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Ruins, Part 1

Ever wonder… what happened to the people who abandoned a house you’ve seen? Here in Aruba, I come across the ruins of old homes from time to time. Judging by the style of construction, they are at least 80 to 100 years old. And given the condition they’re in, they must have been forgotten for at least 30 years. Here is one particular example.

This old cunucu house has suffered it’s share of abuse. The roof is gone. The east wall is pitching outward. Even the wall of the cistern has a crumbling corner. Of course the windows have disappeared. But if you peek in, you’ll see remnants of life inside. Take a look through the wall.

There are shades of paint on those walls. The lower portion featured a different color than the upper, indicating someone had a sense of style. Further on, in the distance is yet another color. Seeing these details leaves me wondering what happened to the people who lived here. They invested their lives into this house, chose the colors, ate their meals, slept under its roof. And yet, at some point, they left, never to return, never to leave the place in care of someone else.

It’s easy to think that hard times befell the former residents, or perhaps a tragedy. However, it’s also possible they inherited a fortune and left for some grand residence in another part of the world. Or, maybe they found somewhere new to live, one which provided them with so much more that their beginnings became irrelevant.

Either way, it is fascinating to think that someone would simply walk away from a perfectly serviceable dwelling, leaving the elements of nature to ultimately reclaim it. I have more photos like this and a few stories to tell about them. Keep checking for updates.

Published in: on July 29, 2008 at 12:06 pm  Comments (4)  
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An Island Away, Excerpt 4

Below is the 4th Excerpt from my novel, An Island Away. Captain Beck has survived the sinking of his tug, Patricia, and has been adrift for several days… page 45 …

When he first saw land, Beck had thought it was an illusion. It was dawn, and a mile or two in the distance he perceived what seemed to be cliffs. They stood above the sea, brown blotches with streaks of black among them. He stared with his itchy eyeballs for what felt like hours. When the cliffs grew bigger, he realized they were real.

He felt a smile crack the skin of his lips. He was close enough to swim for land. His muscles cramped, but he couldn’t scream through his parched throat. Thankfully, his life preserver kept him afloat, or he would have sunk to the bottom like a rag-covered stone.

The wind lent him its assistance. It pushed him in the general direction of the cliffs. The waves steepened as they approached more shallow waters that led to dry land. As his body hopped along with the waves, he did his best to steer toward shore. 

Late in the afternoon, he was close enough to see the surf pour over the rocks. Whether it was a blessing or a curse, he wasn’t sure, but the currents pushed him parallel to the boulders. He heard the noise of rocks blunting the ocean. He saw birds playing in the updrafts at the edge of the cliffs. What he did not see was an appealing beach on which he could land safely. Those rocks would have shredded a man in excellent condition. After a week at sea, he would have felt only the first blow.

In the final light of the day, he realized he was passing by the tip of an island. It had to be Aruba because Curaçao had a lighthouse at its southern tip and Aruba did not. There was a beach in the distance, but it was tucked behind that fringe of nasty rocks. He drifted along, unable to swim against the current. Salvation had come and now it was going. The devil was laughing into the wind. He could hear his cackle echoing over the deserted beach.

Published in: on July 28, 2008 at 5:09 pm  Comments (1)  
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