Wednesday 10th February

Aruba

Where's Aruba? you might well ask. It's in the Dutch Antilles, 27 miles north of the coast of Venezuela. It's an odd mixture of familiar places - architecture from Holland, rocky coastline from Cornwall, windswept desert from Cape Verde.

Gill had booked a snorkelling trip for today, but as we were queueing on the dockside the wind was battering us so badly that we and another English couple feared that the catamaran taking us to sea would be more like a roller coaster. In addition, we were each given a 'Waiver of Rights' document that we had to sign before we could board the vessel. This document required us to sign away all of our rights to legal remedy regardless of any incompetence on the part of the organisers. If this had been made clear on the bookings form we'd never have signed up for the trip in the first place.

So, the four of us switched to the 'Best of Aruba' bus tour that was due to set off at the same time. As in Tobago, there is such a dearth of sights that they make a big deal of even minor things, bless 'em! The first stop was a pile of rocks that was a bit like a small Dartmoor tor. It looked unimpressive from below and when we got to the top - yes, it was unimpressive up there too! :o)

Then it was the 'Natural Bridge', which sounded more interesting, and it was, sort of, except as we approached the driver told us it had collapsed in 2005, but that there was a smaller one still standing nearby. It was a strip of rock that had been undercut over the centuries by the action of the sea, leaving a bridge over the water. Hurricane Ivan is thought to have weakened it, to the extent that it just flopped into the sea a year later. I can just imagine the groans uttered in the local tourist industry - 'What ARE were going to show them NOW?' ;o)

As we looked at the angry seas crashing into the remains of the 'bridge' and battering the coastline we were really glad not to be out there in a small boat! And yet, as we returned to the ship, the driver drove us along the west coast along beaches of white sands and tranquil turquoise seas. We think we even saw the catamaran that we'd been due to travel on anchored over the WW2 wreck that Gill had been keen to take a look at. But, on reflection, we still think we made the right decision, even though Gill feels slightly cheated.

Gill's mobile's a bit hit and miss as far as texts are concerned. A text that Carly sent yesterday afternoon didn't arrive until this morning - it's probably an 02 problem, actually. However, my Blackberry, which Gill justifiably derides as being useless as a phone, has been in top form as far as texts and e-mails are concerned, so if you want to contact her and be sure that your message arrives it might be best to send it to me :o)