Gay Curaçao
Biff scanned the lobby of the hotel carefully as he emerged from the
elevator. No sign of Derek, no sign of Dietz. They had left only minutes
before Biff reached the lobby.
The stairway Uncle Charlie would be coming down, Biff noticed, led into
the lobby just to the right, and slightly behind the elevator bank. Biff
decided that behind the stairway would be the best place for him to
watch for Specks. There was a large potted plant at the foot of the
stairway. Biff got behind it. From here, he couldn’t be seen, yet he had
a good view of the elevators and the stairs. Specks in his frightened
haste might take the stairway. He might not want to wait for an
elevator, scared as he must be after Uncle Charlie had given him a
verbal working-over.
The elevator must have been waiting on the fourth floor, for Specks came
out of it into the lobby just after Biff had taken up his position. He
saw the little man glance nervously around the lobby. Probably, Biff
guessed, he was looking for boss Dietz. He needed his support, needed it
badly.
Specks then headed for the exit. He moved at a pace so rapid that he
bumped into several people who were entering.
“Where’s Uncle Charlie?” Biff asked himself. “If he doesn’t get here
right now, we’ll lose Specks.” Biff stepped out from behind the huge
plant and glanced up the curving stairs. No Uncle Charlie. Biff did
think that he heard someone coming down, coming fast, taking two or more
steps at a time. “That must be he,” Biff thought. He decided to go after
Specks, hoping his uncle would be right behind.
In the curved driveway outside the hotel, Biff looked right and left.
Specks must have pulled out of there at a rapid clip. He wasn’t in
sight. Uncle Charlie came out of the hotel, taking the three steps at a
leap.
“Where is he? Which way did he go?”
“I don’t know,” Biff replied. “He was gone by the time I got out here.”
“Come on, then.” Uncle Charlie, on the run, headed for the street. Biff
was at his heels.
On the sidewalk, they tried to spot Specks.
It seemed to Biff he had never seen so many people crowding the streets,
all of them in a gay, holiday mood.
“It’s no use, Biff,” Charles Keene said. “We’d never catch Specks in
this crowd, even if we knew which way he went.”
“Guess you’re right,” Biff replied. “But I hate to give up. I want to
find Derek. Don’t like the idea of his thinking you and I are against
him.”
“I know how you feel, Biff. Tell you what. Let’s just wander around,
circulate among the crowds. Who knows, we might bump into him. If we
don’t, locating him is going to take time and organization.”
Biff felt there would be little chance of that happening. He knew that
his uncle was just trying to cheer him up. So, thought Biff, why not?
See some of the town at the same time.
“Okay, Uncle Charlie, lead on.”
The man and boy joined in the thronging crowd of tourists, sight-seers,
and bargain hunters.
“Four big cruise ships in, Biff,” Uncle Charlie said. “That’s why
Curaçao is really hopping today.”
They stopped at several shops. Both kept an eye out for Derek, and
Biff’s uncle made several inquiries of shopkeepers. No luck. “Let’s
acquaint you with this fabulous city first, Biff,” he said. “Then back
to the hotel for a powwow on our next move.”
Biff looked over some German cameras in El Globo on Heerenstraat. He was
delighted with the store run by Juluis Penha on Breedestraat. This store
sold dolls from all over. He bought a Dutch doll for Monica. It was
dressed in traditional Dutch clothes—wooden shoes, a gaily colored
frock, and a stiff winged hat. He found a Swiss watch at Spritzer and
Fuhrmann, and was surprised at how inexpensive it was. He bought it for
his brother Ted and smiled as he thought of Ted’s face when he saw it.
As they walked along, Uncle Charlie kept up a running fire of
conversation, giving Biff a good picture of life in Curaçao.
“All the houses are different colors, Uncle Charlie. Why is that?” Biff
asked.
Each house was distinct from the other, even if its color varied by only
a shade. Some were light pink, others darker pink. There were bright
green-painted houses, and light green ones. Others were different shades
of blue and yellow.
Uncle Charlie chuckled before replying.
“Don’t know how true this story is, Biff, but here’s the natives’
explanation of why the houses here are so gaily colored. Many years ago,
all the houses here were whitewashed. It seems the unrelieved glare of
all the white houses hurt the governor’s eyes. So, being a powerful man
who knew what he wanted, he ordered the houses to be painted the colors
of their owners’ choices. Simple as that.”
“If you’re a governor,” Biff replied, laughing.
“And you see that large building over there?” Uncle Charlie pointed to a
magnificent structure standing on top of a hill.
“Big enough to be a palace,” Biff commented.
“It’s Franklin D. Roosevelt House, the United States consulate. The
Dutch built it up there on Ararat Hill to express their thanks for our
protection of these Dutch islands during World War II.”
“That was really nice of them.”
“Good neighbors, the Dutch.”
Biff stopped in front of a store displaying beautiful English china and
Swedish crystal. He pretended to be inspecting these beautiful wares.
Actually he was listening intently to a rapid-fire conversation between
two native clerks.
“I don’t get it,” Biff said, shaking his head.
“What don’t you get?”
“The language they’re speaking. I thought at first it was Spanish. I
know I caught some Spanish words. And some English words. And I could
pick out some Portuguese, too. But it’s all so mixed up.”
Uncle Charlie laughed. “No wonder you’re puzzled. They’re speaking a
language made up of more different languages than any other in the
world. It’s called Papiamento. The jargon is a combination of Dutch,
English, Spanish, Portuguese, African, and Indian words. Carib Indians.
A few French words thrown in, too.”
“Just like Curaçao itself.”
“That’s right, Biff. This island is filled with many races although the
Dutch are predominant.”
Uncle Charlie looked at his watch, then glanced up at the sun. “Aren’t
you getting hungry? It’s after noon,” he said.
“Now that you remind me,” Biff replied with a grin, “I’m starving.”
“Like to go back to the hotel, or how about some real Dutch-Javanese
food? Dutch cooking is good. Heavy, though.”
“Lead me to it.”
Uncle Charlie took his nephew to Koreman’s Old Dutch Tavern on
Columbusstraat. They started out with a delicious Dutch pea soup, for
which the restaurant is famous, and followed it with a Javanese dish of
pork and vegetables with a thick curry sauce.
“Like it, Biff?”
“Delicious. But, as you said—heavy. I’m so full now, I don’t think I’ll
ever want to eat again.”
“This stuff really sticks to your ribs. But if I know you, you’ll be
starving again in a few hours. Come on, we’ll go back to the hotel. You
must have some questions buzzing in your brain.”