We arrived in Aruba right at 7:00 AM, sailing into a sun-washed island that feels surprisingly like Southern California had a baby with a desert planet from Star Wars. Today is a milestone day: Aimee's 50th country and my 40th — a pretty solid way to spend a Saturday morning in December. Warm breeze, clean air, desert landscape, cactus everywhere, and low-slung hills that look carved from sandstone. Room service handled breakfast — a strategy that keeps us from accidentally wandering into the waffle zone, a place where I would easily perish from bliss and syrup.
Aruba makes 50 countries for Aimee, 40 for me. Two travelers, one beach, a couple of Balashi beers, and a pair of round numbers on the map. Not a bad place to cross the line.
By 8:30 we were on bus #130, which the guide announced with the seriousness normally reserved for international flights.
Ayo Rock, Pictographs & Pastechi
Ayo Rock is like Joshua Tree National Park got teleported into the Caribbean — giant boulders dumped into the desert like they fell from space, surrounded by cactus forests. We walked the trail past native pictographs carved by the island's ancient Caquetío people, and the guide handed out pastechi — pastry pockets filled with warm Dutch Gouda. Dangerously delicious, paired with fresh limeade that reminded me of the lime drinks we had in South Africa.
The guide says Aruba has around 50 cactus species. The stars: kadushi (the tall organ-pipe giant), yatu (round, grumpy, holds water like a champ), prickly pear (edible fruit, rude spines), datu / dagger cactus (sword-shaped, used historically in fencing), melocactus (wears a cute red "hat" called a cephalium), Queen of the Night (flowers once a year, for one night — drama queen), and the nurse cactus (shades baby plants — wholesome desert parenting).
The Gold Mine, the Bridge & the Bathroom Gamble
We rolled into the Bushiribana gold mine ruins — remnants of Aruba's lesser-known 19th-century gold rush (some of that gold ended up in the Dutch royal carriage). The views were dramatic — rough surf on black rock — but the restrooms were the real adventure: a dusty trailer, dollar entry, and the tense gamble of whether your flush would commit to its job. Aimee returned declaring it "epically rustic," which is a polite way to say "I survived." Then on to the Natural Bridge — smaller than the pictures, but geologically interesting limestone eroded by centuries of pounding waves. Aruba's geology is basically: wind, salt, waves, erosion, repeat for 100,000 years.
Aruba's local language is a creole blend of Portuguese, Spanish, Dutch, African languages, and Indigenous Arawak. Today's vocabulary: dushi (sweet/nice/beloved — everything good), bon dia (good morning), masha danki (thank you very much), por fabor (please), mi ta stima bo (I love you), and — quietly offered by the guide — kone-yo!, which is basically "WTF!" in local flavor.
Lighthouse, Eagle Beach & a Soap Opera
At the California Lighthouse, Aimee grabbed a coconut smoothie — and we learned that the "adult version" is ordered by telling them to "add sugar." Next time… sugar. Then Eagle Beach lived up to its reputation: soft white sand, calm waves, and a whole "you should stay here for a week" energy. We grabbed Balashi beers (a Dutch-style lager brewed in Aruba) and Aimee discovered Aruba FM, her new favorite station. We passed a group of local ladies watching a Creole soap opera — dramatic music, romantic triangles, the universal "someone just found out a secret baby exists." Based on the vibe: someone cheating with the gardener, a surprise twin, a woman fainting onto a couch, a long zoom on a single tear, a slap, and someone screaming "¡No puede ser!"
Aruba's capital is named for the Dutch Royal House of Orange-Nassau. The Dutch took control in 1636 during the Eighty Years' War. With no gold or sugar to speak of, Aruba became a defensive base, a horse-breeding island for the Spanish Main, a trading hub, and later a refinery stop for Venezuelan oil. We sailed close enough to Venezuela this afternoon to nearly squint and see it — and with current U.S.–Venezuela tensions, the region stays geopolitically spicy; a U.S. Navy battle group is stationed near the U.S. Virgin Islands.
Back in Oranjestad we grabbed a couture hoodie and — not one, not two, but THREE new Aruba magnets. The collection grows stronger. We sail tonight for two days at sea back to Fort Lauderdale. Status: beer time 🍺, then off to Tamarind. Aruba: desert, beach, cacti, ruins, gold, pastries, language lessons, Balashi, and good vibes. A very worthy 40th and 50th country day.
Three islands down, zero turtles up. The ABC trilogy ends turtleless. But the engine has been running a long time now, and the universe owes us. (It pays the debt. Just wait for the seaplane.)