Chumley and I began to experience Carnival in the early evening, when we noticed chairs and tables strung along the brick sidewalks of Oranjestad. We had been down at the 'Paddock', a friendly, casual pub and restaurant that sat right on the edge of the harbor. You could see the huge cruise ships, lit up like a New Years party, at berth to the north, then , to the east, across a traffic filled two lanes, the Renaissance Resort and Hotel.
The Paddock was an oasis in the desert of affluence. It was open aired and felt open minded. The barroom walls were plastered with dollars, pounds, florins, euros and numerous business cards. It was a boozey shrine to capitalism I suppose. The beer was cold, cheap and interspersed by rum and Cokes that, if you could complain about anything, were lacking in the Coke. We tried our best to overlook that. What we couldn't overlook was the distant sound of some really infectious music and the thickening of the crowds on the sidewalks as dusk turned to dark.
It is hard for me to describe what the Carnival music sounds like. In Aruba, it was a mix of salsa, reggae,soul, disco and ska, with a good dash of funk thrown in to capture even non-rhythmic Puritans with hearing problems. There was no standing still.
The marchers began appearing behind floats pulled by strangely quiet semis. This was likely because on the floats were full on bands, with drum kits, horn sections and back up singers. Some of the lead singers had wireless microphones and were dancing on the street, next to the floats. It was a parade, but marching was not involved, this was dancing. There wasn't a still hip on the island.
The planning for this event wasn't clearly visible when I spotted a float that was surrounded by people, but had no band. It was only after it got closer that I saw the bartenders handing down plastic cups of was obviously not intended for children- oh the genius in it!
Chumley and I followed the parade from the Paddock, down past the marina and the government buildings towards the Talk of the Town, our expensive inexpensive hotel. When we arrived there we realized that, not only did we have a perfect view from the veranda of our room, but the parade slowed down right in front of the hotel giving us a great spot to listen to the music and watch the revelers.
Luckily we had bought a bottle of Bacardi Amber at the duty free shop at the airport. It was to be for our sunset cocktail hour on our sail to Panama, but , as I mentioned earlier, you must stay hydrated in the tropics. We also had some Coke, ginger ale, pineapple juice and limes, all of which constitutes a survival kit during both good and bad times. Ice? We got some from the zombie bartender without a question.
Two things I will end this segment with:
1- Rounding up the end of the Parade of Torches were several garbage trucks and workers with brooms. In the morning there wasn't a trace of garbage anywhere.
2- Also missing was any trace of Baccardi. There was a bottle of ginger ale in our rooms fridge.
Wait. Make that three things:
3- Chumleys phone rings at about 2 in the morning. It's Captain Tony. The Gypsy Wind has arrived in Aruba.
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