TheAlek
Registered
It all started with myself and my two travel buddies wondering where to go on our next trip together. Strong cases were made for road trips across Australia and Patagonia. However our Icelandic friend, being an experienced diver and having worked on cruise ships in the Caribbean, suggested we go on a scuba diving holiday. I had always wanted to try scuba diving, our American friend hadn't been scuba diving the last 15 years but said he loved it when he was a teenager; and as luck would have it – a KLM and Copa Airlines sale to Curacao! We booked our tickets and flew in from Istanbul, Geneva and Los Angeles in November of 2015; planning to visit Aruba, Bonaire and Curacao (puddle-jumping with InselAir).
The Icelander and I met up at a bar in Amsterdam Airport Schiphol; had two quick Heinekens and the trip was on! 10-ish hours later, we arrived in Curacao to the longest immigration queue I had ever seen. I didn’t have to pee at the start of the queue, but I did once we arrived in the luggage hall. I guess they’re not really set up to handle the load of a fully laden KLM 747. A short taxi ride away, with a cabbie who kept one hand on a flip-phone, one hand on his smartphone trying to call what appeared to be his entire circuit of friends and family, and steering with his knee; we arrived at our Airbnb rental in Piscadera and were given the keys and shown around. Dinner for the evening was at the Pirate Bay which was more than adequate after a long day of travelling.
The next morning, the lovely and smiling people from Atlantis Diving were outside to pick us up. The Dutchness of the driver had not entirely evaporated in the heat, as he was nearly on time! When we came to the dive operation, they separated me from the Icelander. I was headed to scuba diving boot-camp, and he was off to the north of the island for a group dive. An hour or so later, I had waddled into the water with what seemed to be far too much equipment (I’m only going into the water – surely not all of this was needed, I naively thought), and managed to do the most important thing in scuba diving – not die. I had remembered to breathe, I still swim like a dolphin (thanks to growing up on the coast of Norway), I paid attention to my instructor, and I had a jolly good time of it all! I thought scuba diving would be fun. But not this much fun!
The next day, our friend of the American persuasion arrived, and did a refresher course; while I had my very own instructor take me to dives, and the Icelander trying to chat up the scuba diving girls. It all culminated on day 3, where after having to remove and reattach my BCD during a dive, remove and reattach my weight belt, doing a spot of ‘do you know how a damn compass works?’ underwater swimming, removing and replacing my mask (which is a pain in the ass when you have contacts and have to close your eyes), and proving I was able to swim 100 meters without succumbing to exhaustion or heat stroke – I was given a debriefing by my PADI instructor who said I had done very very well. I’m not sure if he said this to everyone, but it made me feel good regardless. The event was celebrated at El Gaucho in Piscadera, which had the most amazing steaks; and great wine-pairing. Since we couldn’t dive the next day due to our flight, we took good advantage of the wine menu.
One thing we didnt anticipate in Curacao was the bugs. Mosquitoes made a mess of my legs on day one, and we were very diligent with using bugspray after this. See the pictures at the end.
During our stay I Curacao, I dived at the Atlantis House Reef, Tugboat, and a few others I have forgotten the name of. Was super cool to see a sunken tug boat (hence the name), as well as sea turtles for the first time in my life. I was hooked!
We then set off for Bonaire, which is literally a 12 minute flight. I timed it. 12 minutes from wheels up to wheels down. At Bonaire Flamingo Airport which is ‘fun-sized’, as one might call it, and painted pink to match the name; we were met by our other Airbnb host who drove us to our house. We had not organized a rental car, and for no apparent reason. We all work within the tourism and hospitality industry, we all graduated with high GPAs and degrees from very well respected tourism and hospitality universities. Our mothers all say that we are ‘clever young men’. But alas, the three of us figures that it was not needed on an island famed for its shore diving. After walking the kilometer over to Buddy Dive (having been recommended this place by a very interesting German fellow we met during a group dive), we decided that a rental car was needed. No luck in Buddy Dive, as they were fresh out of cars. However, to our rescue, our Airbnb host had a dodgy brother-in-law with an even dodgier car he would rent to us for $50 a day (no insurance needed, bro!) and a hand written contract he wouldn’t sue us for damaging his car and the exchange of two benjamins later; we were the proud drivers of a 90-esque Nissan Pathfinder 6 cylinder SUV. Well, I say 6 cylinder, but it was only firing on 5 cylinders most of the time, and 4 cylinders when going uphill. And once only 3 cylinders when I pulled out from the supermarket parking lot and scared the engine somehow. Anyways, a set of wheels was secured, and off we went to rent our gear and do a ‘trial dive’ at the Buddy Dive house reef, which was mandatory somehow. I guess they didn’t trust us.
The next days, we toured the island, logging 2 dives in the morning, stopping for lunch, tank swap and rehydration; and then 2 dives in the afternoon before singing some steaks on the barbecue in the evening. The ‘locally imported’ beer Polar tasted quite well at the end of the day. And during the day, come to think of it. Buddy Dive is very well set up. We screeched in with our mean and green divemobile to their drive-through, picked up 6 tanks for the 3 of us, grabbed our BCDs, fins and such; and headed out on an adventure. Before lunch, we drove through, dumped 6 tanks and picked up another 6. During our stay on the island, we dived at Boka Bartol, Karpata (my favourite), 1000 Steps, Oil Slick Leap, Andrea I, Buddy’s Reef, Bari Reef (to manage 5 dives on last day), Eden Beach, Windsock, Bachelors Beach, Hilma Hooker, Angel City, Tori’s Reef, and more. The coolest moment was when we were swimming along a reef and I look back to check if the Icelander had gotten lost, and I see a big sea turtle swimming up alongside of him. I signal to him to have a look, and the sea turtle overtakes him and swims up to me. We continue to swim and the sea turtle just swims alongside me, eyeballing me and looking like Crash from ‘Finding Nemo’ (They really do look like potheads).If Curacao was my gateway drug to scuba diving addiction, Bonaire was just straight up crack cocaine! I was seriously hooked now.
Then it was the turn of Aruba. Aruba is much different from the other two islands, and we stayed in yet another Airbnb house, just behind the Marriott. The beach is nice in an Instagram-I-want-to-take-a-honeymoon-selfie kind of way; but was not for me. I much more preferred Bonaire’s beaches. We signed up for boat dives with the Unique Sports of Aruba, who had different prices than on their website (and still do). We took our first dive on the boat and when the Dive Master asked me how much weights I needed and I replied ’20 pounds’ he replied “that’s wrong. Here’s 14. That’s more than enough”. I was the 5th of 10 people to enter the water, and when I deflated my BCD, I still was floating. The DM had already submerged, so I looked to the boat and said I didn’t have enough weights. The captain replied “Just swim down, it’ll be fine”, so novice me did. It worked quite well and I managed to have good buoyancy control at the bottom. We were instructed to notify the DM when we were running low on air (75); and when I did – he gave me the OK sign and signed to wait for others. I kept getting lower and lower, and finally I started my ascent with my two friends, as I was well under 50 on my gauge. I can’t say I was very much impressed by the dive operation, but we did get to see a spotted eagle ray – which was awesome. The DM ascended last and started bleeding from his nose as he did. He had a cold he said, but went diving anyways, and regretted doing so.
The rest of the dives in Aruba were great. Or so I was told. I got some food poisoning and get dehydrated; and spent two days in the house we rented while my two friends enjoyed themselves diving and chatting up dive girls.
After a good two weeks, I had logged loads of dives, and was COMPLETELY hooked. My company has now requested me to relocate to the Caribbean, so I guess I have a new hobby to enjoy! That’s the great thing about working in the tourism and hospitality industry – you get to move around. I’m looking forward to posting more trip reports from scuba diving in the Caribbean, as well as improving as a scubaist.
The Icelander and I met up at a bar in Amsterdam Airport Schiphol; had two quick Heinekens and the trip was on! 10-ish hours later, we arrived in Curacao to the longest immigration queue I had ever seen. I didn’t have to pee at the start of the queue, but I did once we arrived in the luggage hall. I guess they’re not really set up to handle the load of a fully laden KLM 747. A short taxi ride away, with a cabbie who kept one hand on a flip-phone, one hand on his smartphone trying to call what appeared to be his entire circuit of friends and family, and steering with his knee; we arrived at our Airbnb rental in Piscadera and were given the keys and shown around. Dinner for the evening was at the Pirate Bay which was more than adequate after a long day of travelling.
The next morning, the lovely and smiling people from Atlantis Diving were outside to pick us up. The Dutchness of the driver had not entirely evaporated in the heat, as he was nearly on time! When we came to the dive operation, they separated me from the Icelander. I was headed to scuba diving boot-camp, and he was off to the north of the island for a group dive. An hour or so later, I had waddled into the water with what seemed to be far too much equipment (I’m only going into the water – surely not all of this was needed, I naively thought), and managed to do the most important thing in scuba diving – not die. I had remembered to breathe, I still swim like a dolphin (thanks to growing up on the coast of Norway), I paid attention to my instructor, and I had a jolly good time of it all! I thought scuba diving would be fun. But not this much fun!
The next day, our friend of the American persuasion arrived, and did a refresher course; while I had my very own instructor take me to dives, and the Icelander trying to chat up the scuba diving girls. It all culminated on day 3, where after having to remove and reattach my BCD during a dive, remove and reattach my weight belt, doing a spot of ‘do you know how a damn compass works?’ underwater swimming, removing and replacing my mask (which is a pain in the ass when you have contacts and have to close your eyes), and proving I was able to swim 100 meters without succumbing to exhaustion or heat stroke – I was given a debriefing by my PADI instructor who said I had done very very well. I’m not sure if he said this to everyone, but it made me feel good regardless. The event was celebrated at El Gaucho in Piscadera, which had the most amazing steaks; and great wine-pairing. Since we couldn’t dive the next day due to our flight, we took good advantage of the wine menu.
One thing we didnt anticipate in Curacao was the bugs. Mosquitoes made a mess of my legs on day one, and we were very diligent with using bugspray after this. See the pictures at the end.
During our stay I Curacao, I dived at the Atlantis House Reef, Tugboat, and a few others I have forgotten the name of. Was super cool to see a sunken tug boat (hence the name), as well as sea turtles for the first time in my life. I was hooked!
We then set off for Bonaire, which is literally a 12 minute flight. I timed it. 12 minutes from wheels up to wheels down. At Bonaire Flamingo Airport which is ‘fun-sized’, as one might call it, and painted pink to match the name; we were met by our other Airbnb host who drove us to our house. We had not organized a rental car, and for no apparent reason. We all work within the tourism and hospitality industry, we all graduated with high GPAs and degrees from very well respected tourism and hospitality universities. Our mothers all say that we are ‘clever young men’. But alas, the three of us figures that it was not needed on an island famed for its shore diving. After walking the kilometer over to Buddy Dive (having been recommended this place by a very interesting German fellow we met during a group dive), we decided that a rental car was needed. No luck in Buddy Dive, as they were fresh out of cars. However, to our rescue, our Airbnb host had a dodgy brother-in-law with an even dodgier car he would rent to us for $50 a day (no insurance needed, bro!) and a hand written contract he wouldn’t sue us for damaging his car and the exchange of two benjamins later; we were the proud drivers of a 90-esque Nissan Pathfinder 6 cylinder SUV. Well, I say 6 cylinder, but it was only firing on 5 cylinders most of the time, and 4 cylinders when going uphill. And once only 3 cylinders when I pulled out from the supermarket parking lot and scared the engine somehow. Anyways, a set of wheels was secured, and off we went to rent our gear and do a ‘trial dive’ at the Buddy Dive house reef, which was mandatory somehow. I guess they didn’t trust us.
The next days, we toured the island, logging 2 dives in the morning, stopping for lunch, tank swap and rehydration; and then 2 dives in the afternoon before singing some steaks on the barbecue in the evening. The ‘locally imported’ beer Polar tasted quite well at the end of the day. And during the day, come to think of it. Buddy Dive is very well set up. We screeched in with our mean and green divemobile to their drive-through, picked up 6 tanks for the 3 of us, grabbed our BCDs, fins and such; and headed out on an adventure. Before lunch, we drove through, dumped 6 tanks and picked up another 6. During our stay on the island, we dived at Boka Bartol, Karpata (my favourite), 1000 Steps, Oil Slick Leap, Andrea I, Buddy’s Reef, Bari Reef (to manage 5 dives on last day), Eden Beach, Windsock, Bachelors Beach, Hilma Hooker, Angel City, Tori’s Reef, and more. The coolest moment was when we were swimming along a reef and I look back to check if the Icelander had gotten lost, and I see a big sea turtle swimming up alongside of him. I signal to him to have a look, and the sea turtle overtakes him and swims up to me. We continue to swim and the sea turtle just swims alongside me, eyeballing me and looking like Crash from ‘Finding Nemo’ (They really do look like potheads).If Curacao was my gateway drug to scuba diving addiction, Bonaire was just straight up crack cocaine! I was seriously hooked now.
Then it was the turn of Aruba. Aruba is much different from the other two islands, and we stayed in yet another Airbnb house, just behind the Marriott. The beach is nice in an Instagram-I-want-to-take-a-honeymoon-selfie kind of way; but was not for me. I much more preferred Bonaire’s beaches. We signed up for boat dives with the Unique Sports of Aruba, who had different prices than on their website (and still do). We took our first dive on the boat and when the Dive Master asked me how much weights I needed and I replied ’20 pounds’ he replied “that’s wrong. Here’s 14. That’s more than enough”. I was the 5th of 10 people to enter the water, and when I deflated my BCD, I still was floating. The DM had already submerged, so I looked to the boat and said I didn’t have enough weights. The captain replied “Just swim down, it’ll be fine”, so novice me did. It worked quite well and I managed to have good buoyancy control at the bottom. We were instructed to notify the DM when we were running low on air (75); and when I did – he gave me the OK sign and signed to wait for others. I kept getting lower and lower, and finally I started my ascent with my two friends, as I was well under 50 on my gauge. I can’t say I was very much impressed by the dive operation, but we did get to see a spotted eagle ray – which was awesome. The DM ascended last and started bleeding from his nose as he did. He had a cold he said, but went diving anyways, and regretted doing so.
The rest of the dives in Aruba were great. Or so I was told. I got some food poisoning and get dehydrated; and spent two days in the house we rented while my two friends enjoyed themselves diving and chatting up dive girls.
After a good two weeks, I had logged loads of dives, and was COMPLETELY hooked. My company has now requested me to relocate to the Caribbean, so I guess I have a new hobby to enjoy! That’s the great thing about working in the tourism and hospitality industry – you get to move around. I’m looking forward to posting more trip reports from scuba diving in the Caribbean, as well as improving as a scubaist.
