Island smackdown

The best habit
I join a group of divers that has been coming to Habitat Curaçao for years, and we head off, at their enthusiastic request, to Porto Marie. Porto Marie has an interesting double reef with a sandy 55-foot-deep gap in between. The gap is only 100 feet across, so it’s easy to explore both reefs on the same dive, and historically, this has been my lucky spotted eagle ray dive site. On this dive, we discover a couple of snake eels in the sand then head to the outside of the second reef. This is the battle zone. There’s a tremendous amount of competition for space between the big orange elephant ear sponges, tube sponges, gorgonians, sea whips and staghorn corals in the shallower areas. You’ll find numerous grouper here. The cactus and scroll corals harbor large populations of peppermint and yellow-sided gobies, while azure vase sponges provide home for roughhead triplefin blennies. Stingrays hide out in the sand canyon, so we keep an eye out on our way back.

For our second dive, we continue to focus our attention on Marie, at Boca Marie. Just off Bullenbaai, Boca Marie comes thick with life, especially shallower than 60 feet. In the shallows, hard corals rule. We find an abundance of staghorn, brain, star and elkhorn corals, as well as marauding schools of surgeonfish, parrotfish and chromis.

The city life
I meet up with Jody and her friend Kara at Kura Hulanda Resort and Spa, one of the most unusual hotels in the world and one of my favorites on Curaçao. Nestled right in the middle of the Otrabanda side of Willemstad, the hotel consists of more than 60 renovated historic 18th- and 19th-century Dutch colonial buildings. Each of the 80 rooms is unique (some even purported to be haunted). The hotel is like a village within a city, with interesting squares, courtyards, gardens and water features, as well as great restaurants and a museum. But as nice as Kura Hulanda is, we’re on a mission for speed and back-road thrills.

Jody has heard about an old drag strip on the east end of the island, so we drive towards Boca Tabla and Sint Jorisbaii on the north coast. We drive until we see a gate. From what I can understand on Curaçao, gates on dirt roads are suggestions to slow down. Without blinking or hesitating, we get out and lift the gate and proceed on through to a dirt road. We veer right, pass an abandoned building, apparently an old restaurant, and end up on the coast near an abandoned go-cart racing track. We double back to another dirt road then — success — find the drag strip and wonder how anyone ever got to the strip to drag race in the first place, the road is so rough. But apparently drag racing is big on Curaçao. No one is about, so we track test our rental car, a fancy Hyundai, until darkness and hunger compel us away.

Food is taken seriously on Curaçao. It’s an island run on its collective stomachs. And with so many culinary influences upon the land, it’s no wonder Curaçao restaurants have a hallowed reputation among world travelers. Tonight Jody and I go mano a mano. We both have trump cards to play.  Mine comes first.

Ty Sawyer A longsnout seahorse atop its coral mount.

Sunsets on Curaçao are an art form. As we drive back to town, the sun silhouettes a large stand of cactus with a fan of sunbeams of yellow and orange firing up into a royal blue sky. The small clouds change from yellow to orange to pink as we drive.

We meet up with the Ambrosi family, owners of the PADI Five-Star Gold Palm Resort Ocean Encounters on Curaçao, at my trump card — Equus. There are no reservations. It’s first come, first served. And it’s because of the Ambrosis that I even know of this place. There are no menus. You get a choice of beef or chicken, cooked over a flame right in the owner’s stable — which doubles as a restaurant on Friday nights. As you eat, horses sometimes peek their heads out to check the gluttony. I don’t know what marinade is used or what kinds of chickens and cows the meat comes from, but I’ve never tasted anything better, anywhere. After a liberal sampling of both chicken and beef, Kara and Jody give in and agree. And now, at least, Jody believes me. Equus does exist. I surge ahead, just on that fact. As we leave, I’m feeling positively buoyant with cockiness.

Stuffed, we wobble out and hit the town, ending up at club Avalon for drinks and storytelling as a prelude to a late-night Curaçao tradition, more eating. This time in a parking lot at Jody’s favorite truk’i pan, Hot Peppers. And this is all about the lomito burrito.

A truk’i pan is basically a food trailer that is allowed by law to open only after the restaurants close at 11 p.m. On Friday and Saturday nights, locals flock to these little food havens after a night of partying and drinking and dancing. We arrive around midnight, early, and order what is called a lomito burrito, which is like a spring roll filled with spicy ground meat. We eat right in the parking lot, off the trunk lid. I’m not hungry, but I eat every last bit and vow to stay awake long enough on future trips to come back.

That night I fall into a food coma. Jody has taken the wind out of my swagger, as I dream of truk’i pan. And if my room at Kura Hulanda is haunted, I miss the ghostly visits. Dang!

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