We just got back from nearly a week in Aruba. It was very, very, very awesome, though I'm sure one could surmise that it would be-- I mean, I've never heard anyone say the Caribbean was a bad time. We loved everything about our trip, which is particularly good because before we went I was having major anxiety and misgivings. We were leaving Mabel at home with my parents, and I didn't know how I'd do being a whole plane ride away and knowing I wouldn't see her for a week. I spent a solid couple weeks leading up to the trip in this weird kinda sad/ kinda butterflies- in- my- tummy state. When J and I booked the trip (a belated honeymoon since we got married in October but my job doesn't allow for an October vacation), Mabel was about 5 months old. "By the time Feb comes around, I will be TOTALLY fine with leaving her," I conjectured. Um, no. False. In fact, I felt WORSE than I did back then about the prospect, as Mabel has been "talking" and walking a little and has been all- around more expressive. I didn't want to miss a thing! I had nightmares about crying every day of the trip, and that we would come back and she would not know who we were, and even some real dark, morbid thoughts about something happening to J and me. A number of wonderful people in my life were there to support me and tell me it would be fine-- more than fine-- and that I needed to go on this trip. They were right! When J and I stepped off the plane, and a wave of that 86- degree heat ran over me, I felt a- ok. My mom and dad did a fabulous job sitting (they went to Story Hour and shopped and pretty much spoiled Mabel). By the time Thursday rolled around, J and I were excited to get home and see Mabel, as Friday would be her first birthday. We were fortunate to have all our travels go off without a hitch (which is pretty much wicked rare in the land of air travel), and we were home early Friday morning for the gal's big day. As I sat with her and watched her clap after receiving her Elmo cake from Nana, I thought about how lucky we were to have things go so smoothly, and as I looked back over the week, I remembered some observations I made and that I wanted to blog about. So, here they are.
1. I don't like airplane jargon: Why must the flight attendant say, 'We would like to remind you that we are beginning our initial descent, and so the beverage service is ending in the cabin." What is the "cabin"? Is it just the PLANE? Is it a part of the plane? Are they ending the bevvie service in only one PART of the plane, being the cabin, and, if so, what part is that? And the word "deplane"-- did someone just make that up? Can I say I am going to "decar" when I leave my Honda? And what's up with "snack sack" for the little bag you can buy that has, like, four peanuts and three grapes in it for seven bucks? Oh, and then there is "During flight please remain clear of the galleys." WTF are airplane galleys?
2. Sugar is a good test of how Americanized a place is: It's stupid to complain about a paradisey place, and it's not a complaint of substance, but my one gripe with Aruba is that it is too Americanized. I felt like every stretch of every bit of ground there was saying, "We cater to you, Americans! Please keep touristing here!" There was a Starbucks or a Taco Bell or a Dunkin' Donuts on every corner. They accepted American money which was convenient and easy, and everyone spoke English and I swear pizza and fries were served everywhere. While these conveniences make a visit more comfortable and simple, they also sort of make you feel like you never left the USA. I kept thinking I was in Florida, not 17 miles from Venezuela. One morning at breakfast, I looked over to that little sugar container thing, and there they were: Splenda, Equal, and Sweet 'n Low. Shouldn't they have, say, "Bon Bini Sweet" or something? Lots of folks on the island talked about Papiamento being a widely spoken Aruban language, which culls together bits of Spanish, Dutch, and even English, yet I didn't see many traces of said Papiamento. The most unAmericany Caribbean place I have visited was the gorgeous Rincon, Puerto Rico, and they didn't have Splenda or Equal there. In fact, almost everything was in Spanish. I think that if you can easily find American sugar substitutes at most of the island's eateries, you are not going to find a lot of culture. It's going to be all about Americans.
3. The previous entry does not indicate I am exotic or worldly: Let it be a caveat that while I like being tossed into a new culture, I am not sophisticated. I can't speak Papiamento, and my college and high school Spanglish leaves a lot to be desired. My wanting not to find Splenda on the table has more to do with a selfish longing to feel like I am reeeeeally away from home, and so that I can FEEL traveled and non- provincial (struggling trying to think of a good synonym right now for non- provincial. I already used worldly and cultured, and I did promise at the outset of this blog that I wouldn't edit, let alone obsess, over stupid shiz).
4. A vacation sans baby is incredibly different from one with a baby: Yeah, I know you're probably thinking, "Well, duh! Doesn't take a rocket scientist to know that." But we saw first- hand this very disparity. Those parents had to bring their kids in to nap, and they had to chase them around and get them juice and stuff. They had to go to dinner early. And on the plane, the parents seemed quite stressed because the babies and toddlers (we had a few on each flight) cried a lot. We met a couple from Johnston, RI on a boat one day, and they had their 13- month- old son with them. The mom said he hated the sand and the heat, and he had gotten sick while there. I give the parents a weird credit, though, for bringing their kids abroad and to a beach island. I think it takes balls-- balls that J and I don't have right now. The thought of the the tears on the plane-- possibly insatiable ones-- coupled with the idea of no relaxation is enough to make me feel nervous right NOW despite the fact that I am comfortably recumbent in bed while typing. But I like cool, "eff it" type parents like that. I like that they still went to Aruba. Even though I wouldn't do it myself with a one- year- old, I dug that other people did.
I have some more observations, but you (which really may just be me later on...) will start to get bored, and I want to see who wins all these Oscars. I already like Seth McFarlane as a host. He is wildly inappropriate and just did a Cabaret style song and dance to a tune called, "We've Seen Your Boobs."
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