The oil refinery I saw on the way to my apartment rental in Curacao was a harbinger of things to come.
The Caribbean conjures up images of white sand beaches, palm trees, coral reefs, and tropical drinks. This summer, I planned to travel much of the Caribbean (spoiler alert: I didn’t). At the top of my list of places to visit was Curacao, located in the Dutch Antilles, a part of Holland, and famous for its casinos, nightlife, and eponymous blue liqueur.
As I flew into Curacao, I dreamed of all the Caribbean offered and imagined myself relaxing on long, white-sand beaches with a piña colada in hand. The largest and most rugged of the ABC (Aruba, Bonaire, and Curacao) islands, Curacao also held the promise of good hiking and non-beach activities.
But almost immediately after arriving, I was disappointed.
What they don’t show in the brochures is the oil refinery on the edge of town. You know this beautiful, multicolored, waterfront photo that shows off the view Curacao is famous for?
Well, right near there is a not-so-wonderful oil refinery blowing black smoke into the air—and it’s very visible from town.
That refinery set the tone for the week.
Curacao was, as we say, “meh.” It wasn’t a bad place, but it didn’t blow my mind. I left the country indifferent. The island’s vibe and I just didn’t mesh. I wanted to love it, but as I boarded my flight home, nothing in Curacao filled me with sadness to be leaving or a desire to stay.
Let’s begin with the beaches: nice, but not that great. Those near the main town are all resort beaches, meaning you have to pay to enjoy them if you aren’t already staying in one of the resorts. They’re cluttered with people, lounge chairs, and artificial breakers to protect against the waves and create a calm swimming area. (Not that a calm swimming area is bad, but the breakers reduce the flow of water, and since most resorts have boats and docks, I didn’t feel the water was the cleanest.)
The beaches up north are public, wider, and more natural, but even still, they aren’t the long, white-sand beaches we often imagine. Moreover, the shoreline is filled with dead coral and rocks. Were they pretty? Yes. Did I sit there and go, “Damn, this is beautiful”? Sure. Was I blown away by them? No, not really. There’s better.
I was also disappointed by the lack of affordable and accessible public transportation. Buses only run every two hours and taxis are incredibly expensive ($50 USD for a 15-minute cab ride). If you want to see the island, you really have to rent a car during your stay. Not having one really limits what you can see.
To top it off, even the towns aren’t that pretty. Outside Willemstad’s famous waterfront, I wasn’t too impressed by the scenery, buildings, or homes. Even the resorts looked outdated. There’s nothing like a little grime and wear and tear on a city to give it some charm, but in Curacao, the grit only added a feeling of woeful neglect.
One thing I loved, though, was the locals. They made the trip. The locals on the island were friendly, helpful, and great conversationalists. I stayed in an Airbnb rental, and Milly, my host, was super friendly and helpful. She even went the extra mile and drove me some places so I wouldn’t have to take a taxi. If I returned to Curacao, I would stay at her place again.
While searching for places to eat, I stumbled across a local, family-run restaurant near my apartment and ate most of the meals there. Every time I walked in, they greeted me like they’d known me for years (I was probably the only non-local to eat there). Jack, from another restaurant, kindly gave me his phone number to call if I needed anything and always remembered me and that I really loved his lemonade when he saw me.
And then there were the bus drivers who helped guide me around town, the locals who let me hitch a ride with them when the bus didn’t come, and the countless other little moments of friendly conversation and help that happened during the course of my week.
If I chose to go back, it would be for the people, not the place.
Curacao wasn’t awful, but I’ve experienced better destinations. Maybe I didn’t like it because I had high expectations—when you think of nearby Aruba and Bonaire, you think Caribbean paradise, and I just lumped Curacao in with them. Expectations can often lead to disappointment when we build up locations in our head.
I walked away from Curacao with no burning desire to go back. I’m happy I went and I’d encourage others to go, but there was nothing in Curacao that you can’t find elsewhere better and cheaper.
You can’t love every destination. It’s impossible. I can usually find the good in every place (even Vietnam!) but humans have opinions, emotions, and preferences—and mine don’t favor Curacao.
You should go and explore the island for yourself. You just won’t find me there.