The hellish holiday trip home saw me going from Venezuela, to Curacao, to Aruba, to Atlanta, to Houston–my final destination. Now, I had to do the reverse trip.
This time around, I had a 20 hour layover in Aruba, an economical AirBnB reservation (Aruba may be “One Happy Island,” but it’s also One Expensive Island), and an iron will. After my panic attack-inducing experience at Aruba’s international airport, I was not looking forward to stepping foot there again.
Yet, I’m extremely happy I did.
The main item that made my jaunt in Aruba so renewing was the people, plain and simple. I’m from the South, but Arubans take hospitality to a whole new level.
Let me count the ways: