Curaçao: Hitchhiking AND Exploring Willemstad

I found a handling agent in Cartagena, Colombia, and we spoke on the phone several times. He confirmed that a visa or a seaman’s book (which sailors usually have) was required. I, of course, hadn’t obtained such a book. It allows a sailor to move freely within a certain radius of their vessel for a specific number of hours (48/72) without a visa. In this case, I could have stayed in Cartagena for four days with a seaman’s book.

I explained that I didn’t have the book, a visa, or any way to obtain a visa quickly, especially if it required additional paperwork, but I did have a few hundred dollars I was willing to exchange for a visa. He said he understood the situation and would check what could be done, promising to get back to me in two days. It sounded optimistic, giving us some hope. Nevertheless, our hitchhikers needed to start considering the possibility of continuing their journey independently.

We needed to go to town. This involved a 3 km walk to the main road and then waiting for what was supposed to be a bus, but was probably a Caribbean-style van, to take us to the city, which I estimated to be a little less than 15 km away. We headed to the marina manager to ask about our transport options.

Just as I was about to ask, Ana exclaimed, “Come on, we have a ride! This guy will take us.” She had caught a ride faster than I could even ask about the options. The last time I had hitchhiked was in high school, over 20 years ago. And here I was, doing it again.

We got into a pickup truck. A Dutchman who serviced boats had decided to relocate here and open a business, moving his entire operation from the Netherlands because, as he said, the weather was much better here. I understood him perfectly; I would have done the same in his shoes.

We arrived in the city quickly; there wasn’t much traffic, and the ride passed quickly with conversation. He dropped us off downtown, so we took the opportunity to stroll along both sides of the canal. Both banks were connected by a rotating bridge, the first bridge of its kind ever built, situated next to a large new bridge. The city itself was immaculate, retaining a classic Dutch architectural style. The right bank had a cruise terminal and a modern shopping area.

The wind was blowing a bit stronger than usual, and there were some reasonably large waves, some even splashing over the canal’s edge. A ship was approaching, and the bridge began to rotate. Tourists, being tourists, started taking photos and videos, and we joined the crowd. Oskar was filming from the canal’s concrete edge when a large wave splashed him and soaked his camera. He was quite disappointed. We immediately went and bought some rice and put the camera in it to absorb the moisture. We would see what could be done when we got back to the boat.

Later, we had some food and slowly started walking back, as night was falling. As we walked along the main road, we came across a group of people waiting for a bus. After about 10 minutes, a van arrived. We asked if it was going to the Yacht Club, and the driver said he would drop us off at the gate, no problem. We got in, bought tickets, and got dropped off at the gate.

At the gate, we explained that we were at the Daedalus Adventure in the marina, and as we started to walk in, the guard asked how we would get to the boat. We said we would walk. He said, “No, no, white people don’t walk here; someone going to the marina will be along in a few minutes.” And sure enough, a worker came along in a pickup truck. Oskar and I hopped into the back while Ana went in the cab, and within minutes, we were back on the boat. Oskar was still preoccupied with his wet camera and was trying to fix it right away, but I told him to leave it in the rice overnight and see what the situation was in the morning.

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