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Hurricane? What Hurricane?
Curacao: On This Dutch-Flavored Island, Ill Winds Rarely Blow
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2006/06/02/AR2006060200501.html
By Gary Lee, Washington Post Staff Writer (Sunday, June 4, 2006)
All the way to Curacao, I feared the worst. My long-planned trip to this Dutch-flavored Caribbean island came in late September last year -- the height of hurricane season. A day before my departure, Hurricane Rita had just been elevated from tropical storm status and was veering toward the Florida Keys. I knew that Rita was barreling north and that Curacao was comfortably out of the center of major storm activity. Still, I worried that in this stormy season I would spend the entire time watching rain pelt the beach from my hotel window.
But two hours after landing, I was ambling along Mambo Beach, a popular hangout for Curacao sunbathers. The temperature was 81. A soft breeze floated in from the west. The sky was a cloudless cornflower blue. And a cluster of revelers boogied to Latin and American Top-40 tunes along the beach.
During my visit -- and by most accounts all year long, with allowances for slight temperature shifts, a brief rainy season and an occasional change of dance songs -- that blissful report would hold strong.
June marks the beginning of hurricane season, and Caribbean-bound travelers seeking safe harbor from the threat of storms (the season runs through November) would be hard-put to come up with a safer bet than this southernmost Caribbean outpost. Leading Aruba and Bonaire as the largest of the so-called ABC islands, it lies in a narrow ocean region at the southern tip of the Lesser Antilles, where hurricanes rarely tread. (See chart below for other options.)
While cheaper lodging and good air deals are attracting more travelers to the Caribbean in the summer and fall, the threat of tropical storms and hurricanes makes it a more precarious time for an island vacation. Choosing your destination wisely, based on location, can minimize the risk.
The close proximity of the ABCs to the equator helps stave off the complex wind patterns that drive hurricanes. The imposing land mass of Venezuela, 40 miles away, is another storm deterrent. Although the long reach of Hurricane Ivan left a little damage on Aruba in 2004, and Tropical Storm Joan punished the coast of Curacao in 1988, the last major hurricane to hit any of the ABCs head-on was in 1877, according to the Meteorological Service of the Netherlands Antilles and Aruba, or Meteo.
If the hope of avoiding foul weather lures visitors to this lesser-known island, I quickly discovered the main attractions that will keep them here: nearly 40 beaches covered with silky white sand giving way to water so clear you could stand shoulder-high and still see your toenails. Although most of the best beaches are a drive of at least 20 minutes from the concentration of resorts in and around the capital of Willemstad, getting there is worth it.
There's a seaside scene for every mood. On the wild side: Mambo Beach, a lively stretch of revelry, including a funky club by the same name, on the western side of the island, with killer tropical cocktails and nonstop dancing. For escapists: Playa Lagun, an isolated, romantic cove framed by imposing cliffs in the island's northwestern stretch. For families: Playa Knip, near the town of Westpunt. Two coves there provide a great perch to lounge in beach chairs while the kids play in the water.
For those not content to laze in the sand, Curacao (pronounced CUR-a-sow) is also one of the Caribbean's top scuba and snorkeling destinations. I took a dip off Playa Lagun and was wowed by coral reefs loaded with staghorn, an exotic tropical fern, and red-dotted barracuda. Another afternoon, I walked from my room at the Curacao Marriott Beach Resort straight out to the ocean and dove in. In a matter of minutes, I was face to face with a school of brightly colored butter hamlets, yellowhead wrasse and other exotic creatures.
The Dutch-inspired mansions perched like crown jewels on avenues and hilltops across the island are another Curacao marvel, legacies of an era when this was the tropical back yard of wealthy industrialists and traders. They range from Willemstad's low-rise merchant houses made of coral, painted in bright island colors and capped with gables, to stately great houses decorated with imposing mahogany balustrades and other ornate features, mostly in the countryside.
Then there's the food. From the bowl of spicy Cuban soup I devoured at the bar of the Gouverneur de Rouville Restaurant and Cafe Willemstad to the escargot casserole and grilled reef lobster in the elegant courtyard of the Astrolab Observatory, every one of my meals was a delight. Sampling iguana soup, goat stew, cactus flowers and other beloved Curacao dishes was one of my favorite adventures.
* * *
Curacao's calm spirit belies a stormy past. Caiquetios Indians drifted to the island from Venezuela around A.D. 500, but Spanish explorers and slave hunters, who started running riot here in the late 1400s, quickly wiped them out. The Dutch staked their claim in the mid-1600s and soon thereafter established the island as a key slave-trading station. After World War II, the locals began a fierce battle for independence. Eventually, the Dutch crown relented by making Curacao an autonomous entity within the kingdom of the Netherlands in 1954. While the country is run by an elected parliament, the Hague holds sway over its defense and foreign affairs.
The government of the Netherlands and a conglomeration of Dutch businesses have created a sophisticated infrastructure. In contrast to the rustic bearings of other Caribbean outposts, Curacao has a network of well-paved roads, Internet cafes, convenient taxis and seemingly a cellphone in every hand. It's an appealing balance of natural beauty and urban edginess.
I stumbled onto the hip side one night at Blues, a classy outdoor music venue at the Avila Beach Hotel. Dave "Ronchi" Mathew and the Avila Blues Band, regulars here, performed a mix of jazz evergreens with self-styled island work songs. The crowd, a nattily dressed mix of tourists and locals, swayed with every song. With tropical cocktails flowing and a glorious view of the ocean, it could easily have been a posh club in Miami's South Beach.
It was during bar chatter that evening that the Curacaoans began to intrigue me. The population of 133,600 comprises an unusual ethnic mix. The inhabitants include descendants and natives of Africa, Holland and Latin America, and represent more than 50 nationalities. All the hotel staffers, store clerks and wait staff I met communicated ably in English, but they also switched easily among Dutch, Spanish and Papiamentu, a Creole dialect with roots in Portuguese, Spanish, Dutch, French and some African languages.
* * *
Everyone from taxi drivers to bartenders had an intriguing yarn to recount. Dinah Veeris was the one who interested me most. The affable Curacao schoolteacher turned herbal healer said she was afflicted at an early age with several serious ailments. Her frustrations with traditional medicine led her to herbal cures, and after studying herbs in Holland and on her own for several years, she opened Den Paradera, an herbal farm and open-air learning center on the southeastern end of Curacao. There she tends more than 300 kinds of herbs and offers consultations to locals and visitors. Her goal, she told me when I dropped by the garden, is to restore the island's centuries-old adherence to herbal healing methods.
"Every herb has a story to tell, and so does every person," said Veeris, 67, a caramel-colored woman wearing a bright-green turban and long matching dress. "The same cure doesn't work for every person."
When I told her of my battle with high blood pressure, she asked me about my diet and what conventional medications I had tried. She prescribed an herbal tea and wrote out instructions on how to prepare it. Once home, I drank a cup every morning. After a few weeks, I couldn't swear I'd solved my problem, but the tea was tasty.
Winhmar Ricardo is another Curacao resident working to integrate aspects of European life on the island. During a recent stint in the Netherlands, the 23-year-old model and designer observed, close up, the progressive approach that many Dutch take toward gays. Back home, he has started trying to raise awareness on gay issues.
Curacao is one of a handful of Caribbean islands where same-sex couples live openly together and the reported incidence of homophobia is low. The island's tourism bureau also encourages gay travelers to visit and has a page for gay visitors on its Web site. More importantly, island promoters promise an atmosphere of tolerance toward all visitors.
* * *
At 171 square miles, Curacao is easy to cover in a day. I began my explorations in the narrow streets of Willemstad, then drove along Westpunt Highway, the paved road that extends up and down the island.
The Museum Kura Hulanda, in downtown Willemstad, was a logical first stop. Although a museum seems an odd diversion in a place with such alluring natural attractions, this one was worth it. Billed as the most comprehensive public space in the Caribbean devoted to the history of slavery, it offers locals and outsiders an education in the political and economic importance of the slave trade.
An impressive storehouse of art, historical papers, books, sculpture, masks and artifacts, the museum takes visitors on a step-by-step journey through the history of slavery, from its roots in Africa to its abolition and aftereffects in the Caribbean and North America. One impressive exhibit explains in detail how Dutch traders and government officials used Curacao as a slave marketplace from the 1600s to 1863, when forced servitude in this corner of the world was abolished. Another haunting display takes visitors inside a replica of a trading ship.
Still in museum mode, I crossed the harbor for a peek into the 274-year-old Mikve Israel-Emanuel Synagogue, billed as the oldest continuously operating place of Jewish worship in the Western Hemisphere. A small structure with a handsome wooden interior, it was dedicated in 1732 for a Jewish community that came from Amsterdam in 1651. White sand covers the floors -- not only to symbolize the 40 years the Jews spent wandering the Sinai desert, a guide explained, but to represent the sand used by Jews to muffle their footsteps during the Inquisition.
Next up: The clusters of elegant low-rise houses lining the streets of Willemstad, many dating to the 18th century and designed in classic Dutch style. It's a refreshing change in a region dominated by chattel cottages and neocolonial architecture. Similarly striking are the many "landhouses," handsome mansions built mostly as country estates for wealthy Dutch families during the 1700s and 1800s. Many have been donated or sold by their owners to island organizations and are open to the public.
The Kura Hulanda, one of two hotels where I stayed, is another impressive example of island architecture. A complex of lovely low-rise houses dating to the 1700s (part of the same complex of buildings as the slavery museum), it opened as a hotel in 2001. The owners have taken pains to preserve the original style, retaining the handsome dark wooden floors and elegant high ceilings. The walls boast colorful murals hand-painted by local artisans, and guest rooms are furnished with wooden beds and bureaus imported from Indonesia.
The decor was lovely -- but I was, inevitably, drawn back to the beach. Playa Porto Mari, about five miles outside Willemstad, lured me with its long stretch of white sand and double coral reef. Cas Abou, a turn off the highway at Weg Naar Santa Cruz, is more secluded but no less spectacular, and I couldn't resist one last dip. Pausing to take in the cloudless sky and calm water, I took a picture of the scene in my mind, and held it there until the sun began to sink.
The Dutch-influenced Caribbean island that welcomes all but hurricanes
Curacao: On This Dutch-Flavored Island, Ill Winds Rarely Blow
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2006/06/02/AR2006060200501.html
By Gary Lee, Washington Post Staff Writer (Sunday, June 4, 2006)
All the way to Curacao, I feared the worst. My long-planned trip to this Dutch-flavored Caribbean island came in late September last year -- the height of hurricane season. A day before my departure, Hurricane Rita had just been elevated from tropical storm status and was veering toward the Florida Keys. I knew that Rita was barreling north and that Curacao was comfortably out of the center of major storm activity. Still, I worried that in this stormy season I would spend the entire time watching rain pelt the beach from my hotel window.
But two hours after landing, I was ambling along Mambo Beach, a popular hangout for Curacao sunbathers. The temperature was 81. A soft breeze floated in from the west. The sky was a cloudless cornflower blue. And a cluster of revelers boogied to Latin and American Top-40 tunes along the beach.
During my visit -- and by most accounts all year long, with allowances for slight temperature shifts, a brief rainy season and an occasional change of dance songs -- that blissful report would hold strong.
June marks the beginning of hurricane season, and Caribbean-bound travelers seeking safe harbor from the threat of storms (the season runs through November) would be hard-put to come up with a safer bet than this southernmost Caribbean outpost. Leading Aruba and Bonaire as the largest of the so-called ABC islands, it lies in a narrow ocean region at the southern tip of the Lesser Antilles, where hurricanes rarely tread. (See chart below for other options.)
While cheaper lodging and good air deals are attracting more travelers to the Caribbean in the summer and fall, the threat of tropical storms and hurricanes makes it a more precarious time for an island vacation. Choosing your destination wisely, based on location, can minimize the risk.
The close proximity of the ABCs to the equator helps stave off the complex wind patterns that drive hurricanes. The imposing land mass of Venezuela, 40 miles away, is another storm deterrent. Although the long reach of Hurricane Ivan left a little damage on Aruba in 2004, and Tropical Storm Joan punished the coast of Curacao in 1988, the last major hurricane to hit any of the ABCs head-on was in 1877, according to the Meteorological Service of the Netherlands Antilles and Aruba, or Meteo.
If the hope of avoiding foul weather lures visitors to this lesser-known island, I quickly discovered the main attractions that will keep them here: nearly 40 beaches covered with silky white sand giving way to water so clear you could stand shoulder-high and still see your toenails. Although most of the best beaches are a drive of at least 20 minutes from the concentration of resorts in and around the capital of Willemstad, getting there is worth it.
There's a seaside scene for every mood. On the wild side: Mambo Beach, a lively stretch of revelry, including a funky club by the same name, on the western side of the island, with killer tropical cocktails and nonstop dancing. For escapists: Playa Lagun, an isolated, romantic cove framed by imposing cliffs in the island's northwestern stretch. For families: Playa Knip, near the town of Westpunt. Two coves there provide a great perch to lounge in beach chairs while the kids play in the water.
For those not content to laze in the sand, Curacao (pronounced CUR-a-sow) is also one of the Caribbean's top scuba and snorkeling destinations. I took a dip off Playa Lagun and was wowed by coral reefs loaded with staghorn, an exotic tropical fern, and red-dotted barracuda. Another afternoon, I walked from my room at the Curacao Marriott Beach Resort straight out to the ocean and dove in. In a matter of minutes, I was face to face with a school of brightly colored butter hamlets, yellowhead wrasse and other exotic creatures.
The Dutch-inspired mansions perched like crown jewels on avenues and hilltops across the island are another Curacao marvel, legacies of an era when this was the tropical back yard of wealthy industrialists and traders. They range from Willemstad's low-rise merchant houses made of coral, painted in bright island colors and capped with gables, to stately great houses decorated with imposing mahogany balustrades and other ornate features, mostly in the countryside.
Then there's the food. From the bowl of spicy Cuban soup I devoured at the bar of the Gouverneur de Rouville Restaurant and Cafe Willemstad to the escargot casserole and grilled reef lobster in the elegant courtyard of the Astrolab Observatory, every one of my meals was a delight. Sampling iguana soup, goat stew, cactus flowers and other beloved Curacao dishes was one of my favorite adventures.
* * *
Curacao's calm spirit belies a stormy past. Caiquetios Indians drifted to the island from Venezuela around A.D. 500, but Spanish explorers and slave hunters, who started running riot here in the late 1400s, quickly wiped them out. The Dutch staked their claim in the mid-1600s and soon thereafter established the island as a key slave-trading station. After World War II, the locals began a fierce battle for independence. Eventually, the Dutch crown relented by making Curacao an autonomous entity within the kingdom of the Netherlands in 1954. While the country is run by an elected parliament, the Hague holds sway over its defense and foreign affairs.
The government of the Netherlands and a conglomeration of Dutch businesses have created a sophisticated infrastructure. In contrast to the rustic bearings of other Caribbean outposts, Curacao has a network of well-paved roads, Internet cafes, convenient taxis and seemingly a cellphone in every hand. It's an appealing balance of natural beauty and urban edginess.
I stumbled onto the hip side one night at Blues, a classy outdoor music venue at the Avila Beach Hotel. Dave "Ronchi" Mathew and the Avila Blues Band, regulars here, performed a mix of jazz evergreens with self-styled island work songs. The crowd, a nattily dressed mix of tourists and locals, swayed with every song. With tropical cocktails flowing and a glorious view of the ocean, it could easily have been a posh club in Miami's South Beach.
It was during bar chatter that evening that the Curacaoans began to intrigue me. The population of 133,600 comprises an unusual ethnic mix. The inhabitants include descendants and natives of Africa, Holland and Latin America, and represent more than 50 nationalities. All the hotel staffers, store clerks and wait staff I met communicated ably in English, but they also switched easily among Dutch, Spanish and Papiamentu, a Creole dialect with roots in Portuguese, Spanish, Dutch, French and some African languages.
* * *
Everyone from taxi drivers to bartenders had an intriguing yarn to recount. Dinah Veeris was the one who interested me most. The affable Curacao schoolteacher turned herbal healer said she was afflicted at an early age with several serious ailments. Her frustrations with traditional medicine led her to herbal cures, and after studying herbs in Holland and on her own for several years, she opened Den Paradera, an herbal farm and open-air learning center on the southeastern end of Curacao. There she tends more than 300 kinds of herbs and offers consultations to locals and visitors. Her goal, she told me when I dropped by the garden, is to restore the island's centuries-old adherence to herbal healing methods.
"Every herb has a story to tell, and so does every person," said Veeris, 67, a caramel-colored woman wearing a bright-green turban and long matching dress. "The same cure doesn't work for every person."
When I told her of my battle with high blood pressure, she asked me about my diet and what conventional medications I had tried. She prescribed an herbal tea and wrote out instructions on how to prepare it. Once home, I drank a cup every morning. After a few weeks, I couldn't swear I'd solved my problem, but the tea was tasty.
Winhmar Ricardo is another Curacao resident working to integrate aspects of European life on the island. During a recent stint in the Netherlands, the 23-year-old model and designer observed, close up, the progressive approach that many Dutch take toward gays. Back home, he has started trying to raise awareness on gay issues.
Curacao is one of a handful of Caribbean islands where same-sex couples live openly together and the reported incidence of homophobia is low. The island's tourism bureau also encourages gay travelers to visit and has a page for gay visitors on its Web site. More importantly, island promoters promise an atmosphere of tolerance toward all visitors.
* * *
At 171 square miles, Curacao is easy to cover in a day. I began my explorations in the narrow streets of Willemstad, then drove along Westpunt Highway, the paved road that extends up and down the island.
The Museum Kura Hulanda, in downtown Willemstad, was a logical first stop. Although a museum seems an odd diversion in a place with such alluring natural attractions, this one was worth it. Billed as the most comprehensive public space in the Caribbean devoted to the history of slavery, it offers locals and outsiders an education in the political and economic importance of the slave trade.
An impressive storehouse of art, historical papers, books, sculpture, masks and artifacts, the museum takes visitors on a step-by-step journey through the history of slavery, from its roots in Africa to its abolition and aftereffects in the Caribbean and North America. One impressive exhibit explains in detail how Dutch traders and government officials used Curacao as a slave marketplace from the 1600s to 1863, when forced servitude in this corner of the world was abolished. Another haunting display takes visitors inside a replica of a trading ship.
Still in museum mode, I crossed the harbor for a peek into the 274-year-old Mikve Israel-Emanuel Synagogue, billed as the oldest continuously operating place of Jewish worship in the Western Hemisphere. A small structure with a handsome wooden interior, it was dedicated in 1732 for a Jewish community that came from Amsterdam in 1651. White sand covers the floors -- not only to symbolize the 40 years the Jews spent wandering the Sinai desert, a guide explained, but to represent the sand used by Jews to muffle their footsteps during the Inquisition.
Next up: The clusters of elegant low-rise houses lining the streets of Willemstad, many dating to the 18th century and designed in classic Dutch style. It's a refreshing change in a region dominated by chattel cottages and neocolonial architecture. Similarly striking are the many "landhouses," handsome mansions built mostly as country estates for wealthy Dutch families during the 1700s and 1800s. Many have been donated or sold by their owners to island organizations and are open to the public.
The Kura Hulanda, one of two hotels where I stayed, is another impressive example of island architecture. A complex of lovely low-rise houses dating to the 1700s (part of the same complex of buildings as the slavery museum), it opened as a hotel in 2001. The owners have taken pains to preserve the original style, retaining the handsome dark wooden floors and elegant high ceilings. The walls boast colorful murals hand-painted by local artisans, and guest rooms are furnished with wooden beds and bureaus imported from Indonesia.
The decor was lovely -- but I was, inevitably, drawn back to the beach. Playa Porto Mari, about five miles outside Willemstad, lured me with its long stretch of white sand and double coral reef. Cas Abou, a turn off the highway at Weg Naar Santa Cruz, is more secluded but no less spectacular, and I couldn't resist one last dip. Pausing to take in the cloudless sky and calm water, I took a picture of the scene in my mind, and held it there until the sun began to sink.
The Dutch-influenced Caribbean island that welcomes all but hurricanes
Hey RJ, Just go through the survival checklist, 3 days water, 3 days food bars, blanket, flashlight that kind of thing etc. just to be prepared and pray nothing that bad happens at most, it will be rain , maybe some localized flooding. That is it. To let you know everytime hurricane hits Florida and the upper seaboard then Pennsylvania gets soaked really good with torrentional rainstorms that look more like violent monsoons accompanied by powerful earthshaking thunderstorm booms that you can feel in your whole house. Alittle of flooding here and there. That is about it. So I would not be too concerned, yes prepared but alarmed no. I noticed you live in Connecticut and they have a very good National Guard and Coast Guard organization there also from what I understand the Red Cross in Connecticut is one of the best organized in the whole USA. I think Connecticut is about number 3 or 4 on the Red Cross list of how well prepared and good they are. I saw it somewhere in a Red Cross publication that shows the ranking state by state. I also know you are in a wheelchair so you will need to ask your county emergency director to put you on the priority list to be evacuated which means people who will be evacuated first while anothers wait in line, city block by city block to be evacuated so you got alots of good things going for you. I hope the best for you and God Bless ...... 
