Back Then

It was not that there was no bus service, or taxis or private cars; just not that many, especially for late night workers. And it was unquestionably safe to be on foot. The usual courtesy was to offer a ride whenever possible.

Toward the end of the Vietnam War, the United States government decided it would be good idea to bring the troops home more slowly for several reasons, including the fact that there were still active protests in the streets against the war. It was believed that a slower re-integration into society would be beneficial.

They arrived aboard big war ships and they began walking. The usual Aruban hospitality manifested itself: a "Marietta Moment" recalls the utter surprise on their faces when she and others stopped to pick them up and take them to various sites on the island. Big grins replaced the questioning looks as comfort set in. It became part of the daily routine.

The MPs were surprised that there was little disruption from the troops. They had expected trouble after the rigors of the war experience. One day at Manchebo Beach Resort, two young men were frolicking around the pool, much to the enjoyment of the hotel guests when a waiter dropped a large metal tray. The soldiers froze, spun around in a low crouching position, eyes darting to see where the trouble was. The hotel pool guys quietly approached them, spoke softly and suggested they all take a walk on the beach. Later, it was learned that a reporter from the States was present and wrote about the incident and the "healing warmth of the Aruban people."

A young marine was silently weeping in a casino one evening standing behind a roulette table. When askedwhat was wrong, he said that the woman in front of him reminded him of his beloved grandmother. The woman turned around and said she was indeed a grandmother and would be proud to be his grandmother as well. Smiles all around, hugs and the tears stopped.

As they walked, more vi sitors, mostly older men and women, began walking with them on the long stretches of the empty beaches. They reported the experience was very special and that they not only learned a lot about these men's experiences, but also how the calm environment, physical and mental, of the island and its people contributed to their well-being as well.

Perhaps one of the reasons, Arubans lived longer, is because they walked. On Sundays, family groups and friends would walk from their neighborhood to the nearest beach for a day in sun, home-cooked favorite foods, and lots of in-the-sea games and swimming. Overheard one day, and often repeated, was the Mother who told her kids they could go swimming but could not go in the water. The kids won out, as kids will do, and showed off with great pride that they knew how to swim, albeit close to shore to keep Mother happy.

Hiking was not an organized sport as it is today through the wilds of Arikok National Park. 'Twas just a walk to enjoy the flora and fauna, explore the caves, watch with wonder at the endless number of birds of all colors and sizes above or in the sea, rocks and mammoth boulders, and breathing the clean, freshest air in the world.

Courtesy of The Morning News

If you lived in Dakota, you gathered up family and friends and headed for the beach in front of what is now Talk of the Town which was then the Coral Strand Hotel.

There were no buildings on the beach and no airport runways right in one's face. The now airport wasn't there yet; it was down and around and in the back along the south coast. Newly arrived visitors who had never (and some who had) driven from the airport were often found wandering around the neighborhood; one wrong turn and you were back where you started.

If you lived in San Nicolas, you went to Baby Beach or Rodgers Beach, off to the far left of the refinery and just at the tip of the island. There were multi-choices opted for up and down the eastern shore from south to north where coves tucked in and out and sandy beaches that ran the gamut. It was quiet and never crowded and it was Sunday.

Or you went to Arashi just below the lighthouse to snorkel for endless hours.

If you wanted the business and social news of the week, you went to Basi Ruti, a small hotel, which as mentioned earlier would now be called a boutique hotel and where Playa Linda Beach Resort now stands. Basi Ruti stood alone until the Carib (now the Radisson) was built. The restaurant was ideal for lunch or you brought your own coolers, home-built bar-b-que grills and dug in up-side and down-side of the hotel property.

Waterskiing was in active play then with the kids riding in front of Dad who held onto him or her with one hand and the bar of the rope with the other. Or the child sat on Dad's shoulders and was pulled up and out to the skiing lanes. One of the guys who worked on a pleasure boat for tourists used to waterski without skis, just his bare feet.

One Sunday a Canadian couple struck up a conversation with Arubans sitting nearby asking about the island. They had just completed a months-long trek from Canada where they had been studying the history of the Inuits, an indigenous people of Northern Canada and parts of Alaska. They had followed their "trail" down the west coast of the United Sates, into central America and finally to Colombia where they met a tribe that spoke the identical language. Shown photos of the Inuits to the Colombian indians produced amazing results: they looked as alike as brothers and sisters and with the language in common it was a successful and intriguing adventure.

Several more Arubans gathered around curious to see the photos. One said she looks just like my old Tanta (aunt) Mimi; another said he looks like my grandfather and on it went. The Canadians were stunned and delighted because they had more information to explain the migration. They pointed to a couple walking along the beach and said they must be visitors from Colombia. No, said another, they are my cousins coming to join us for lunch.

Courtesy of The Morning News

The natural inborn quality of good manners of the local Arubans was a real quality, not a forced one. There was a true elegance in greeting and receiving others. It was, and in many still is, a tradition to smile and say ‘bon dia’ or ‘bon tarde’ (obviously depending on the time of day) when one passed another close by on the sidewalk or wherever one was walking: staircase, hotel lobby, coming out of a store. It was a sign of friendliness and also of respect, particularly toward older people.

It was what made Aruba so desirable a tourist destination. The first tourists expected a Jamaica-West Indian atmosphere because of that island's popularity then. They did not expect a Dutch-Latin society. No, we did not walk barefoot with baskets of laundry on our heads going to the rivers to wash our dirty clothes. We don't have rivers; we do have washing machines or hand laundry in the clean water from the desalination plant even then. And, yes, please drink the water.

It was therefore disconcerting for salespeople in local jewelry stores at the time to have tourists come in and go directly to the counter and start talking, without even a hello or good morning, often ignoring the fact that another customer was being attended to. It was smile-time, however, when someone would point to a necklace and demand to know the price right then. "25,000 dollars, sir." Mouth agape, no sign of speech, and out the door. Early hotel workers also found it unsettling when their smiles and greetings were not returned. It was just such a na tural thing to do.

The same quality was shown when a tourist got lost driving around the island. After stopping a car to ask directions or when a car stopped noticing the occupants looked lost, the Aruban would say "Follow me" and lead them to their destination or to the road they needed. No tips were accepted. It was simply an act of inborn courtesy. One way to get an Aruban to accept a tip, it was finally learned, was to ask if he or she had children.

"Buy something for your kids."

In Oranjestad, street signs may be on a street corner or not; may be on the side of a building or not; may be under an awning or not. If visitors were lost walking the streets, Arubans would walk with them to the right corner and point out the store they were looking for or walk with them to their chosen spot pointing out landmarks. It was just the natural thing to do and always with a smile.

An important travel writer of the 60's and 70's wrote that "The smiles of the Aruban people are the real thing.

They're not pasted on nor turned on for the moment. They're as warm as the sun." Recently an ex-pat living on Aruba since "back then" went into a small print shop in a small town in New England. She said good morning and smiled at a woman standing at the counter waiting for service. After a few seconds, the woman said, "You're not from here, are you? We don't do that any more." When told she was from Aruba, the woman smiled and said, "Of course, I know about the friendly people on Aruba."

Courtesy of The Morning News

When the Aruba Caribbean Hotel (known by locals to this day as The Carib), now the site of the Radisson Resort, opened 50 years ago, Cuba had closed to Americans. For those who wanted to gamble and not have to trek to Vegas, the new and only hotel-casino on an unknown island in the Caribbean was the answer.

Visitors discovered miles of unpopulated gleaming white beaches, (and what would now be called a boutique hotel nearby), wonderfully dependable sunny weather, the clear, clean and bright turquiose sea surrounding and the Aruban people’s natural and warm hospitality. A “Marietta Memory” spoken then about the weather: 'It’s tropical like tropical fruit...always sweet.' 

At that time, and for some years to follow, the attire in the casino was evening gowns for women and tuxedo jackets (black or summer white) or suits for men. The dealers were called “casino boys” because most of them were young men just barely out of their teens. Grandfathers today, they are still referred to as “casino boys.”

A note was attached to the door of their dressing and relaxing room to always speak English while dealing was the result of a woman complaining, loudly, of course, that the dealer was insulting her in “some stupid language.” Laughter ensued because he had just told the floor man in Papaiamento not to forget to pick up his mother the next day to take her to the Doctor. 

Those first years were a surprise to most visitors. and still today to those newly arrived, because of the number of languages spoken with such ease. American English was spoken at the Esso oil refinery in San Nicolas (since the late 1920’s) and was readily adapted to hotel English. Added to the local language, Papiamento, which is a language certified by the United Nations as such because it is spoken at all levels of society (‘tis not a dialect nor a patois), Dutch as the official language (Aruba is a separate entity within the Kingdom of the Netherlands), Spanish from the just-over-the-horizon South Americans and whatever else parents and grandparents brought with them. Today many more languages have been added as the population becomes even more diversified.

The bartenders at the hotel did have an unusual sense of humor regarding Papiamento. They often would teach guests a word or two or a phrase but not give them the correct translation. When a guest would use the words to another Aruban, they would be rather surprised at the shocked look they received. Then the question was asked, "Who taught you that?" And the smile appeared, "Ah, yes, a bartender at the Carib." Nothing, of course, harmful; perhaps just a wee bit off-color. 

And the longtime tradition continues: one always says "bon dia" (good day) or "bon nochi" (good evening) when passing by another individual even if that individual is a stranger. Longtime visitors and Aruba has, by far, the highest rate of returning visitors than any other Caribbean destination, have adapted this tradition and often comment that it is part of "real Aruba" so be loved.

Courtesy of The Morning News

"You can't get there from here." It happens everywhere in the world when visitors ask a local how to get somewhere and it's too complicated to tell them how. Back then, Aruba had mostly sand or dirt roads, mostly without signs and mostly often did not continue on.

Arubans would say to each other, "Take a right at Tante Ingrid's house. You know, the pink house with the red roof and go down the road 'til you get to the green house and make a left." In town (Oranjestad), where there were sometimes signs on the side of a building or in front or not, it was just a matter of answering a visitor "just tell me where you want to go." Ah yes, a left at that shoe store and a right at the bank.

Along the then uninhabited seafront in Malmok (beyond the high-rise strip, where now luxury homes abide), there was a stretch of road that the macho-motor-maniacs used as speedway in the early evenings. The view from that road was of endless sea, glorious sunsets, an occasional waterskier, (the now famous windsurf tournament had not yet arrived), a fisherman throwing out a line and a tanker or two on the way to the Esso Refinery in San Nicolas.

In the 1970's, when the United States was suffering from a major shortage of gasoline due to refinery strikes worldwide, countless tankers were lined up from Malmok all the way down the length of the island to San Nicolas, just floating gently in the calm sea while frustrated drivers in the U.S. were causing havoc countrywide. On a flight from New York one day approaching Aruba, the pilot told his passengers to "Look out the windows on your right. There's your gasoline, folks." The murmurs were not gentle.

The Malmok road then led directly to the lighthouse, still standing, but only to the wooden staircase below. It was worth the climb to look out at rock-filled shores, saliñas, parading herds of goats, iguanas on their endless journeys for food (they had the-right-of-way then and still do today), cacti, and the wide-open spaces of gritty, yet beautiful landscapes unburdened by human occupancy.

What became known as the first house on that road in Malmok, (although an Aruban proudly carried that title, his house was "down the road apiece") was built by a couple from the Washington-Baltimore area, the Tuckers. They easily slipped into the patterns of Aruba. Aruba has a smoothly, endless and comforting way of using time.

On a flight to the States one day, Al and a friend were talking about events on the island when a well-dressed gentleman (suits and ties were de rigueur in first class) seated in front came to Al's seat and asked if he could asked a few questions since the duo obviously lived on Aruba. Of course. The gentleman went on a conside rable length about how hugely he had enjoyed his vacation here and was thinking of moving here. Nods of appreciation were made.

He then asked what did each of us do on a "regular" day. Al replied, " Yesterday, I went to Brenchie (the now-deceased hardware store)." His seat mate stated the she had gone to post office to pick up package. And then? That's it.... it takes all morning to go to Brenchie and the post office! He later said he didn't think he was ready for Aruba yet.

His wife turned around and whispered, "Thank you!"

Courtesy of The Morning News

Call it what you will, we have definitely seen it here. Back then, one learned to walk bent into the wind. Just try crossing the pier leading into the Bali Restaurant straight up and you'd be blown off the edge. Men always carried a comb because their hair would be a mess after a few minutes walking anywhere or just getting out of the car. Women would not wear their hair long and hanging free, as today's old-is-new-again style, because it would be blown all over the head and face.

If you were on the beach at Manchebo in January, when it was the first on that entire stretch of what is now the low-rise hotel section, you would need to wrap yourself securely in towels because the wind would blow the sand so hard it stung the body like bees. The rain showers, never storms, were not predictable in any form of science. It would rain wherever it wanted and only there; not nearby or over there or in town or not or in San Nicolas or not. One would be driving along in the rain and it would just stop and the road ahead would be dry. Not a drop had touched it. Look out the window and it was raining; oops the car window is open. But the car was dry.

Now the heat is more, the winds are less, and rain, which never was much, is so little that Indian rain dance prayers are in favor. According to a farm family here, since the beginning of the 20th century, there was no rain in December (our usually wet month) in any year ending in 9: 1909, 1919 and on to 2009. It was proven to be very true last December. Some attest the changes in our weather over the years to the refinery whose gaseous emissions sent the rain clouds over the island to deposit their rain beyond us.

Back then, when it did rain for a few minutes, Arubans at the beach would go in to the sea. Logical. One gets wet when one swims, why stand under a tree in the rain. Tourists did not follow this logic. The first timeshare resort on the island, Aruba Beach Club, used the slogan "When it rains, we pour." Back then, it wasn't often and didn't last long enough to break the budget.

Tourists would often ask front desk people or porters what was the weather forecast for the day. Back then, few even understood the question. What's a weather forecast? It didn't take long, however, to figure it out. Look outside, that's what you get for the day!

When it rained, back then, mothers would tell their kids to go outside and play. The rain was clean, sweet and healthy. After a short shower, the sun and wind would dry their clothes and their hair while dancing in the freshness. Kids in Aruba learn to dance before they learn to walk. What could be more delightful than dancing in the rain?

Courtesy of The Morning News

They used to say that, whenever the trade wind changed its direction in the early month of May, and blew from the South instead of the Northeast, you could hear the voices of the guardsmen who had served and died in World War II.

It was said that you could hear those voices with crystalline clarity in the first few years after the war at a certain point along the St. Nicolas Bay, but that after those initial years had passed the voices started to fade. Today, even if you stand in that very same spot, all you can hear are barely audible fragments, murmurs, and wisps of conversations. And you may be tempted to tell yourself that you’re only imagining things.

During the Second World War, Aruban servicemen had sailed on oil tankers and warships and had stood guard along the island’s southern shores. Day and night, they would peer into the dark-deep waters to try to discern the presence of German submarine U-boats, which had swarmed into the Caribbean basin to cut off the Allied supply lines that ran all the way up to the European theater of war.

After the war, in Sunday morning parades, the surviving guardsmen would march with their heads held high, shouldering their rifles and carrying their flag with dignity and pride.

There used to be quite a few of them, but today most have passed on. Every year the group grows smaller and soon the day will come that none will be left alive. Many of us are too young to remember them. And even if we would hear their names, we wouldn’t know who they were. And, yet, they had once taken up arms to defend their community and die for their country.

Today we lay wreaths to pay homage to their bravery, dedication, discipline, and willingness to defend our freedom and way of life. To commemorate not only the suffering and pain but also the glory. And, yet, we do not remember who they were. It is only in the pale moonlight, and then only if the early May winds blow from the South instead of the Northeast (which isn’t very often), that we can still catch glimpses of their heroism and sacrifice. On those rare occasions, remnants of history drift toward us—of ships that were torpedoed, of a buddy who was captured and executed, of a guardsman whose silhouette was scorched into the walls of a concrete bunker by a final, deadly blast.

And so we may wonder, what happens to a man’s soul when even the memory of his existence fades from the Book of Life?

Maybe, it is time for us to stand guard, to repay our debt of honor, to peer back into the dark-deep ocean of time … and keep alive the memory of their souls.

The question has been asked more than a few times by visitors if there is water all around the island. True, true! They do ask. True, true, we say. But there is very little water on the island. Aruba does not have lakes, rivers, waterfalls, ponds or very much rainfall. It's arid and desert-like over most of the island, a perfect habitat for the many species of cacti which provide sustenance for our wild life.

Back when there was a small population, Arubans would walk or ride a donkey to the nearest rooi, a small brook or stream to gather water or extract drinking water from a well or a catch pool known as a tanki. Water was also imported in tankers from nearby Venezuela, whose mountains can be seen from higher up sites around Aruba.

And then came WEB, the power plant in Balashi built to supply electricity and desalinated sea water for the island. In the 1920's with the opening of the Lago (Esso) Oil Refinery in San Nicolas, and a substantial increase in the popu lation fueled the need for potable water. Since then WEB has been increasing steadily its ability to provide water for the continually growing population and industry. Ranked among the very highest in quality around the world by the World Health Organization, the water is not only safe but delicious. It is "void of disease, the result of boiling the water at 212 degrees Fahrenheit which removes all forms of bacteria and omits the need for chlorine. The pure distilled water is filtered through bedsof coral stones which absorbs enriching minerals, such as calcium and oxygen. No che micals are added to the water.

Early on, visitors were re commended to drink a "Balashi Cocktail." Visit www.webaruba.com

for more information about the water plant. There is also a free tour given once a week; reservations required. Call 525-4600.

Tourists who did not know about the pure water would bring bottled water to the island. And then, and they still do today, ask for ice from the bartender for their water. If the water isn't safe enough to drink, why would the ice be safe? It certainly isn't made from bottled water. The smart thing to do is buy a bottle of AWA (the Papiamento word for water) which is bottled in Aruba and refill it from the tap to carry to the beach or on excursions. Please drink the water.

Not really surprising is that there are many tides around the island. Though the sea appears warmly peaceful as seen from the hotel beaches, one cannot swim out too far for fear of being pulled away. One could end up in Panama or Venezuela. Back then before lines were rigged to keep swimmers close to the shore, visitors would stretch out on floating lounges and drift away and away and away. A frightened man or woman would come screaming for a beach boy (although they were all men) that the person on the float had not reappeared. Man the boats! and off they'd go looking. One hapless woman was found near the lighthouse. Several men were found almost at the oil tankers parked a good way offshore.

Sharks were and are kept away from the tourist beaches by feeding them dead animals collected by the animal protection teams on the northeast coast. One young diver, however, came face-to-face with a shark, out too far he was and swears that he shot up straight out of the sea and walked on the water to get to his boat. He is a successful doctor here these days.

Story courtesy of The Morning News

When this story was written many, many years ago, the windmill stood splendidly alone on a sand road, not as now surrounded by shops, a resort and other buildings. De Olde Molen was a popular landmark restaurant located within the mill, described below.

Go Dutch In Aruba

A highlight for all visitors to Aruba is the magnificent red Dutch windmill, an Aruban landmark, set not among canals but surrounded by cacti and coral.

The structure, built in the province of Friesland, The Netherlands, in 1804, was used for the irrigation of lands below sea level, pumping or draining water into ditches and canals. In 1878, after being damaged by a storm and as more sophisticated irrigation systems were developed, the mill as disassembled and rebuilt to be used to grind grain.

In 1929, storms and fire damaged the mill severely and it was not used again. In 1960, the remaining wooden structure was purchased by a Dutch merchant and shipped to his residence here in Aruba where it was built atop a two-story reinforced concrete structure. It was known in Dutch as De Olde Molen (the old mill).

In 1973, after other owners, it became the home of the highly acclaimed The Mill Restaurant which serves fine international cuisine in a most welcoming and pleasurable atmosphere. (Update: the owner, Bill Waldron, trained some of Aruba's finest chefs, bartenders and maitre d's that have served the island so well over the years.)

The second floor of The Mill, around which runs a balcony, the perfect place to take pictures of the surrounding countryside and the adjacent bird sanctuary, houses the office of the restaurant. (Here one learned the old superstition that one must always go out the door you came in from. Visitors entering the office from the outside staircase and wanted to see the restaurant below, had to go back outside, down the stairs, and enter through the front door.)

The third floor tower space contains the complete and authentic mechanism of the mill consisting of mill stones for grinding grains, wooden gears and wooden shafts made of oak.

The Dutch flavor continues in the interior of the restaurant (which was expanded over the years from the original one room and bar area) located on the ground floor. In the bar area at the entrance, an excellent example of the world renowned Dutch genre art, the scenes of everyday life of the 17th century, has been transferred to tile and set into the wall. There is also a very large tile painting of an historic sailing ship which was found behind a plastered wall when construction began on an additional dining area running lengthwise across the back of the original structure.

Dutch antiques, such as a brass and wooden water pump and authentic Delft plates, vases and jars are also on display in the now three dining areas as are original oil paintings of Dutch scenes depicting the life and style of Holland.

Update: When Mr. Waldron sold the restaurant some many years later, it is believed that a hex was put on the building by an unknown witch for it has never been a successful business since. 

Story courtesy of The Morning News.

"Where To Go For What" was a monthly newspaper-formatted publication directed to American tourists who needed to know about Aruba. It had a "Bon Bini and Welcome To" column about return visitors and celebrities; a front feature story about events, museums, sites to see and various other topics of interest.

It was full of tips on how to use the bus service, taxis by law must post their fares, that gasoline for rental cars is in liters: 3.76 to 1 gallon, lists of happy hours and hotel manager's cocktail parties (a thoroughly enjoyable freebie), driving tips (speed limits are in kilometers not MPH) road signage, such as do not enter based on the European system (much Dutch influence here).

Also featured was a short "Did You Know" column that explained the service charge on restaurant checks; another system not used in the U.S. "On The Clothesline" was, and even more so now, a valuable lesson about our traditions.

"Aruba is well known as a relaxed and casual vacation spot in the Caribbean. And although sleeveless t-shirts, which used to be called undershirts, may be 'in' in New Jersey and flowered shorts 'big' in Boston, dinner restaurants and night spots do not accept that kind of casual.

After a day on the beach, 'getting dressed' for dinner is one of the pleasures of the evening, looking forward to fine dining in a variety of our many good restaurants that also offer international decor and that special Aruban atmosphere. It's really just good manners to observe the custom of the island and dress appropriately. You'll enjoy it and we'll appreciate it"

This was followed later by: "The View From Here" "Beachwear is designed for beaches and not for in town shopping or restaurants. When in town, ladies are expected to wear proper attire. Extreme shorts and tops or bathing suits are not in keeping with Aruba's traditions and culture. Gentlemen should not appear shirtless or unbuttoned nor are bare feet acceptable."

After these appeared, a "Travel and Leisure" magazine in a special Caribbean edition, wrote about the dress code. "The Caribbean is not St. Tropez. The people who live there tend to be conservative and God-fearing. They dress modestly and polite behavior requires that visitors cover their bottoms and breasts when they leave the beach. Except for a few beaches on the French islands and parts of Jamaica, topless sunbathing is inappropriate. And no short shorts and bare midriffs in the markets, please."

This item is still enjoyable: "Curious Customs"

"Our research staff could not find a definitive answer as to how this custom originated or how it evolved. We were only able to establish that we all have had absolute proof that it works.

If you have a guest in your home that has overstayed his or her welcome, take a broom (it has to be a broom with a straw head and a wooden handle; not the purple polyester version) and turn the broom upside down, handle down. Sprinkle salt on the straw top. Place the broom against a wall. In about 5 -10 minutes, you will be delighted to hear, 'Well, I guess it's time I left now.' Laughter is permitted, but it really works here in Aruba."

Story courtesy of The Morning News.

Cruise tourism to Aruba began in the early 1950’s with the visit by the M.S. Libertador, a combination cargo/passenger ship belonging to the Royal Netherlands Steamship Company/K.N.S.M., now known as the Nedlloyd Line. first all-passenger ship, the Tradewind, called in Aruba for the first time in 1957. A BBQ with entertainment was organized at the Aruba Palm Beach Club, a private club then located in the now-empty area next to the Westin Resort, to welcome the cruise passengers and also to introduce the first luxury hotel, the Aruba Caribbean Hotel, then under construction, which opened in 1959. It is now the completely renovated Radisson Aruba Caribbean Resort.

It was the Santa Rosa and the Santa Paula of the international steamship company, Grace Line, that began regular Thursday visits to Aruba in 1958 and introduced the island to passengers from the United States. The ships sailed from New York stopping at Curaçao, La Quaira (Venezuela), Aruba, Kingston (Jamaica), Port-of-Prince (Haiti), Fort Everglades (Florida).

The luxurious new Santa Rosa made her first call to Aruba with a full complement of 200 passengers and the crew of 250 and were escorted into the harbor by a large number of motor and sailing vessels. The passengers were offered Aruba cocktails, a special tropical drink of coconut milk and gin. Touring the ship was possible between 5 pm and 8 pm. and was visited by thousands. The $25 million dollar ship was 584 feet long, measured 20,000 tons with a cruising speed of 20 knots. Her sister ship, Santa Paula, followed her in late 1958.

Advertisements for the cruise boasted "glass-enclosed promenade decks, orchestra, music and dancing, veranda café, swimming pool and social hall." Passengers often debarked in Aruba and stayed for a week or two at The Carib and boarded the next Grace Line ship for their return voyage.

In comparison to today's visitors, those passengers dressed "for the occasion". Gowns and tuxedos were worn for evening activities at the hotel. For shopping in town, men wore long pants and shirts; women skirts, blouses and summer dresses. T-shirts were worn only under a shirt for men; shorts on the tennis court. Flip-flops did not exist. It was an elegant time.

Hundreds and hundreds of thousands of tourists learned about Aruba by arriving on a cruise ship. Touring the island, siteseeing, indulging in water sports induced them to return and stay at the growing number of hotels and participating in time share resorts. It was and still is a foundation for the tourism product and the economy of the island.

DID YOU KNOW?
In 1970, a visitor and his family were returning to the U.S. from a vacation in Aruba. As a result of that vacation, one of great inventions for travelers was born. Bernard D. Sadow, from Massachusetts, was struggling with two heavy suitcases when he "observed a worker effortlessly rolling a heavy machine on a wheeled skid". According to New York Times travel columnist, Joe Sharkey, when Mr. Sadow, who owned a company that made luggage, got back to work, he took the casters off a wardrobe trunk, mounted them on a big travel suitcase, put a strap on the front and pulled it. At age 85, he still holds the patent, Rolling Luggage # 3,653,474. Ah, Aruba.

In the famous old movie "Treasure of the Sierra Madre" starring Humphrey Bogart and winning an Academy Award for its director John Houston, the line "there's gold in them thar hills" became a catch-phrase for many years.

And so it was in Aruba.

Gold was first discovered in a rooi (a pool of water formed after a heavy rainfall) in 1824 by 12-year old Willem Rasmijn while he was tending to the family's herd of sheep. He brought the shiny rock to his father who sold it for a minimum amount; when resold for more than 4 times that price, the rush was on. Several nuggets were found in the same Rooi Fluit and Rooi Diamari totalling about 50kg (about 110 lbs.). In 1854 a nugget weighing 2 kg (5 lbs.) was discovered in Rooi Chicki by Nicolaas Eman. It is believed that there are sizable nuggets still in possession of some of Aruba's oldest families.

When the Dutch Commander in charge of Aruba advised the government in the Netherlands that gold had been discovered, Dutch soldiers arrived the next year to help guard the mining areas. That same year, the first shipment of 71 kg. (156 lbs 2 oz.) departed the island heading for Amsterdam aboard the government frigate "Amstel." The ship never reached Holland and speculation still continues about its disappearance.

Although pirates and buccaneers had been marauding the Caribbean and plundering ships and the islands since the late1400's, there was a slacking off in the 1800's due to more European intervention.

In a report to the British owners of the Aruba Island Gold Mining Company in 1872, it was stated that the local government worked the mines concentrated in the Miralamar hill area until 1838, when they were abandoned, allowing the local people to work them for their own be nefit. However, lack of capital and workers, the process became that of simply washing and seeking "free gold" which the rain would send down the hillsides.

In 1899, the complex was built with all the necessary equipment to mining and processing the gold. The gold was taken in wagons to the foundry at Balashi where the final mel ting was done. The largest mine at Miralamar was 1.75 meters (almost 6 feet) in dia meter. Miners used steam elevators to descend some 900 feet to work in various tunnels. It was closed in 1916 for a variety of economic factors.

The complex is a major site-to-see in the Arikok National Park. The building's remains are interesting historically but also illustrate that nature still rules and has taken over man-made materials bringing cacti and other plant forms to star at the sight with beautiful views to the north to the sea and of the south side of the island.

In 1972, KLM Royal Dutch Airlines and ALM Dutch Antillean Airlines (now defunct) published a small paperback edition entitled "The KLM/ALM Guide To The Dutch Caribbean.

The section about Aruba has some delightful descriptions of the island back then. "The Big Beach With The Tiny Island" starts by stating that "the first sight of Aruba by air is a long, curving, gleaming ribbon of sand so white and the water so clear you almost wish you had a parachute so you cold jump in right there and then. Can it really be that beautiful when you get close? You bet."

The book offers thoughts on the naming of the island. Perhaps it was by the Spanish Conquistadores in 1499 from "Oro Uba" ( "there is gold" ); or possibly "ora" (shell) and "oubao" (island), The Island of Shells. A later thought suggested that the name be changed to Esso-uba, when in 1929 the Standard Oil Company of New Jersey opened the Lago refinery, "not a token plant, but the largest refinery in the world at that time." It is clearly stated to visitors reading the book that "the refinery is on the opposite end of the from the beaches, and the trusty trade winds make sure that the exhaust gases are wafted far across the sea, away from the beaches, away from vacationers."

Golf, they stated then, was "strictly for addicts, people whose hands begin to shake after two days without a club."

With only the 9-hole Lago Club available, it was nevertheless considered a "unique" experience because of the oiled greens.

They neglected to add that one of the reasons for that was to keep the free-roaming goats from their daily excursions always searching for a good grassy meal. There were penalties if a stray shot hit a goat that were determined by the club's staff and the owner of the goat.

"Like all good Dutch islands, Aruba has its quota of Chinese, Italian, French, Javanese and American restaurants.

There are restaurants in a windmill, a houseboat, and on the beach....there are only two types, open-air and air-conditioned". A rave review was given to Le Petite Bistro at the Aruba Caribbean Hotel/now Radisson. "It's a handsome restaurant (not a bistro in the strict sense) with a modern tricouleur decor, an immense chef de cuisine, (M. Lebrun, who put in time in Paris's Hotel du Crillon, Hotel Georges V, and Restaurant Prunier), a tastevin-toting sommelier, and efficient service. The five-course, prix-fixe dinner costs a stiff $15 (plus 10% service charge) and gives you a generous choice of gourmet items (too mouthwatering to list in today's edition.)

Nightlife lists "supperclubs" (their spelling) at the few hi-rise hotels. "The granddaddy of Aruba supperclubs is the Klompen Club at the Aruba Caribbean (Tony Martin, Patachou, Liberace); the brassiest is Holiday Inn's Palm Beach Room; and the most elegant is the huge red-gold Rembrandt room at the Aruba Sheraton". A "gala" evening which includes dinner, wine and dancing cost $10 per person.

"For most of the year (high season December to April not included) you can have a double room in a Palm Beach resort for as little as $20 a day (+5% room tax)."

Carnaval was more personal back then. It was all about celebrating with family, friends, neighbors and co-workers.

There were unwritten "systems" in place along the route of the Grand Parade, for example. One parked the car along the route lengthwise so that food could be placed in the open trunk away from the street. Or if the vehicle of choice was a pickup truck, it was parked sideways so that those watching the parade could lean against the railings. That meant climbing up and down when watchers wanted to join in with groups performing.

Those participating in the parade walked, danced and marched. All the musicians walked, marched or danced. There were no huge flat-bed trailers loaded with electronics. A very elegant band from Argentina that performed at the Americana Hotel (now the Occidental) joined in the parade one year dressed in white shorts, white t-shirts and enormous sombreros to keep the sun at bay. And they walked.

Other music groups, such as steel bands, mounted their bigger drums on wheels and pushed and pulled. The music was as spectacular as the costumes and needed no artificial amplification. Marching bands were popular and added not only a slight military taste but when played to Latin and Caribbean rhythms, cheers were heard from the beginning of theroute to its final end. Later trucks would often pick up the bands and return them to the start where they would catch a ride home.

The parade route was different than today when the floats and band wagons were not as huge and long. They couldn't later make the turn from Laclé Boulevard on Wilhelminastraat and the telephone lines were getting snared.

One amazing float was built by the late great artist William de la Vega and didn't win a prize because the judges couldn't believe it was built here. It was a tall replica of the King Willem III tower at Fort Zoutman with a gargantuan figure of Godzilla beating its chest, about to attack. And there sat William with a long leash in hand which was attached to the neck of the beast. Along with his major works of art that are collector's items, he is still known for his small sign that appears overhead behind the bar at the landmark Charlie's Bar in San Nicolas: TIPPING IS NOT A CITY IN CHINA.

Along the original route were specific vehicles marchers watched for because they knew there would be wonderful food to be shared. One well-known restaurateur had pots of his famous pea soup kept warm. Another stop was for chicken wings; before Buffalo wings became popular these were a favorite for beach parties, dance parties, any excuse for a party. One family gave out cups of bami goreng, the Indonesian favorite. And, of course, libations of all sorts and sources flowed like a mighty river.

Back then, the day of the Grand Parade was half day off for workers at the few hotels. By noon, they were gone.

Guests then had buffets served for the rest of the day. Employees saved their entitled days off in order to participate in the festivities. Those that stayed were promised off next year.