Aruba & Curaçao

Eight days in the Caribbean for my birthday. Aruba first — Eagle Beach, a private pool surrounded by palm trees, the color of the water you see in stock photography that you don't believe is real until you're floating in it.

Day two we boarded a yellow boat for a sailing and snorkeling trip along the Aruban coast. The crew did a demonstration on the snorkeling gear, then dropped us into the clear turquoise water for the first dive. There was a rope swing on the boat, and I got a round of applause for being the first person to use it successfully — the first guy let go immediately and the second did a hard belly flop, so the bar was low.

Day three was the flood. Woke up to the entire first floor of the house underwater after a heavy morning rainstorm. Sent a message to the host. Walked around the wreckage barefoot. "Once a year Aruba gets rain like that" — apparently I picked the day. The rest of the trip was indoors-when-possible.

Aruba's wildlife was aggressive. I had a standoff with a giant iguana on the wall that lasted longer than most of my relationships. After the flood I walked through the lively shopping district downtown, past colorful buildings and under the big arched promenade.

Day five we flew from Aruba to Curaçao on a small propeller plane with views of the ocean below. After landing, a festive van ride to the next place. Curaçao was the quieter second act — a Spanish Water resort with turquoise water and painted Dutch colonial buildings in Willemstad. Beachside relaxation, Christmas decorations everywhere, a thatched umbrella, a beach bed, and the tropical atmosphere doing what tropical atmospheres do.

Two cruise ships were docked at one point: a Royal Caribbean and a much smaller, gorgeous vessel called the Freewinds. I looked it up. It's the Scientology ship. I told a friend I'd been enrolled in an accelerated Bridge to Total Freedom pathway and asked them to respect my journey.

The tan line from years of 7-inch inseams may never go away.