Being a Slug in Aruba

By Roberta Sotonoff

I am lounging on the beach with my daughter, Jamie. We are staring at the waves and letting the sand run through our fingers.

“What about doing a little sightseeing? Oranjestad, is supposed to have some quaint, pastel Dutch architecture. And I hear the Ostrich Farm and Arikok National Wildlife Park are must-sees,” I say

She shoots me a look that says, “It would take a crane to get me off this beach.”

“Okay, we’ll think about that tomorrow.”

The Caribbean island of Aruba is only 15 miles from Venezuela but as far as we are concerned, it is a million miles from our busy lives. Everything is so laid back. It’s the perfect place to be a slug.

Our digs, Aruba Marriott Resort, is in keeping with our new-found slug mode. It has plenty to do so we don’t even have to leave the property. On our first day, we don’t. After dinner at the Marriott’s Ruth Chris steakhouse, we just wander the grounds. We sleep over eight hours –a record for us—and then laze around for two hours telling stories and laughing.

Finally, guilt creeps in. After traveling such a long distance, it’s not right to lie around the hotel all day. So, we take a snorkeling tour and lie around on the boat instead.

The catamaran makes three stops. The first is Malmok Beach’s calm waters– good for novice snorkelers. Because of choppy waters, the second stop is challenging. It is worth it to swim over a sunken German ship, the Atila. The Dutch captured it in 1939. Rather than surrendering, the captain discharged the crew, opened the valves and sunk the ship. Now it is a haven for colorful and diverse undersea denizens. Our last stop is Boca Catalina Beach. Sergeant majors, parrot fish, trumpets, yellow snappers, urchins, sponges and even minnows munch on the colored brain coral.

When the catamaran drops us off, we feel ambitious enough to peruse some shops. That’s enough exercise for one day. Don’t want to overdo it. Dinner is at the hotel’s sushi bar. Finding a restaurant and actually going there takes too much energy.

Our slug days whiz by. Pigging out at the Sunday brunch, tires us. Time to chill. It’s off to the hotel spa for a massage and wrap. Now we are almost comatose. It is even difficult to drag ourselves to the beach.

One day, I have a spurt of energy and opt for a jeep adventure. Jamie will have none of that. I leave her to work on her tan and the Stellaris Casino slots.

I board the striped, ragtop ABC jeeps for a fun trip to the untamed part of the island. Roads are laden with potholes and sharp turns. At the ruins of an old gold mill, the sea pounds against black volcanic rock. Stone stacks line the beach. Don’t think esoteric cultural ritual. Tourists feel the need to do what others do when they visit this place.

Next stop is the famous natural bridge. Oops! It collapsed in 2005. But look! There is a mini one nearby. After a quick look, we bump our way to Natural Pool. The short hike down a stone-stair path reveals a hidden pool. Some snorkel but I chill while watching the surf crash upon the 12-foot-high surrounding rocks.

The jeeps take us for a thrill ride to the island’s third highest point. The highest peak, nearby Mount Jamanota, rises 620 feet, and is crowned with what else? Antennae and cell phone towers.

I happily return to the beach for rest. On our last night, we gussy up –just a little– and wander down to Simply Fish on the beach. Sitting alongside the water, feeling a soft breeze, watching the sunset and looking up at the stars, I am at peace in my slugdom.

Maybe next time I come to Aruba, I will be more active –do more water sports, sample gourmet restaurants, visit the Numismatic Museum or the aloe factory, who knows? For now, doing nothing has given me a change from my daily routine. Isn’t that what a vacation is supposed to be about?